The eve of promise: the potential of social care

It is certainly a week of happenings. Wednesday past was this year’s Winter Solstice. It has always been a night of hope and light which begins the hallowing of days till the spring and summer beckons and bursts life through darkness. From ancient times the lengthening of days, however slow and imperceptible, has presaged hope in the midst of harshness and re-birth in the place of grief. It is a day when we turn in a new direction, it is one of potential re-orientation and focus. But like so many days of light in darkness at this time of year it has a quality which it is hard to describe and fathom. That’s why for me days like the Solstice and Christmas are often best described by our poets. One of my favourite poems around the Winter Solstice is by Gillian Clarke a former National Poet of Wales. She wrote ‘The Year’s Midnight’

The flown, the fallen,

the golden ones,

the deciduous dead, all gone

to ground, to dust, to sand,

borne on the shoulders of the wind.

 

Listen! They are whispering

now while the world talks,

and the ice melts,

and the seas rise.

Look at the trees!

 

Every leaf-scar is a bud

expecting a future.

The earth speaks in parables.

The burning bush. The rainbow.

Promises. Promises.

From Selected Poems (Picador, 2016).

That last line says it all, I feel, ‘promises, promises.’ Clarke pictures renewal and rebirth incarnate in apparent decay and emptiness. She sees a world dormant with hope and promise. And today there is no shortage of expectation and promise in the air.

I hardly need to mention that tomorrow is Christmas Day because mine cannot be the only household full of the energy of childhood expectation. Tonight, is one of those evenings where the focus is very much on what is to come; when all the emphasis and preparation is about an experience yet to be savoured and moments still to be shared. There seems to be so much preparation and planning, organising and arranging for a day of just a few hours. But whether for good or ill what happens tomorrow becomes the stuff of memories and future reminiscence in a way that few single days are able to be.

Today then and especially tonight is one in which we stand on the edge of possibility and on the eve of promise. I often find it sad that the sense of expectation and promise, of not wanting to fall asleep lest you miss the happening; of wakening up before dawn breathless with anticipation – that all that seems to diminish as meaning and ‘adult truth’ replace childhood wonder and naivety.

Promise is an intriguing concept and one I’ve reflected on over the years. I have done so because I think there is something intrinsically to do with promise and hope, with expectation and discovery, at the heart of all good and meaningful social care support. Now some see social care as a set of functions or tasks, as something that is done for or with another. But I think that fails to see the whole truth. For social care support is surely much more adventurous and open than simply the performance of action or function? To reduce social care to a spreadsheet of activity is surely to lose its spirit and essence, to commission out its dynamic and unpredictability?

Every encounter we have with someone is a moment of promise, it offers us an opportunity to bring positivity, healing and meaning on the one hand and equally on the other it offers us the risk of harm, hurt or rejection. There is nothing definite or defined about the act of caring for another, it is at its best always a reaching out not to take control but to support the spirit of another to be independent and to grow into the fulness of their own self. I suppose that is true of all relationships but there is for me a special and unique dynamic about care support relationships when they are working well and most especially as folks get to know the pattern of the other.

In her poem Clarke beautifully describes the dormancy of hope in the midst of a cold winter day. There is a sense that the natural world is just waiting, patiently for the thawing of the days till it flourishes life into being. In care support where workers are allowed time to relate, to get to know, to attend and be present with, there is the potential for a life to be refreshed and renewed, for light to overcome the emptiness of absence or pain. Some of you might describe such sentiments as naïve or even false, but I have seen it too often in the compassionate care of a nurse or a carer in care home or in community to not have witnessed something which in this season we might describe as the incarnating of true humanity and love. At a very deep level social carers are promise keepers tomorrow and every day. That promise is lived out in their care, support, love, and compassion for others.

Tomorrow will be a day of excitement and joy for so many especially those who are younger. But we also have to be honest and reflect that for others it will be a slow twenty-four hours in which they will be touched by absence, cradled by regret and held by the tears of memory. There will be thousands of women and men who will combine their thoughts and feelings with going out to work in care home or in the homes of those they support as home carers. They will some of them carry their regret and some will be eager to return to the warmth of others – but for the moments and times they are with others they will be present in that person’s joy or sorrow, delight or pain – for it is the rhythm of presence that creates a carer able to make a moment meaningful for another.

But ‘promises, promises’ also has another tone to it and that is one of challenge; a dismissiveness of a commitment made with voice but not followed through. I cannot but think of all the political and societal promises we made with gestures like clapping hands to remember the women and men who were the frontline of professional compassion and care in the darkest of days during pandemic and since. I cannot but reflect that we have all broken our collective promise to recognise, reward and remunerate those women and men. A promise is empty and hard without the energy of commitment and response. That is the task and call to all of us who have a role to make change happen, to ensure that such promises do not become the stuff of fairy-tale or platitude but are lived out in societal and political commitment and action. There is nothing more important to the creating of true human community than the recognition and value of all, the fostering of compassionate care and support to those who need it to play their part as citizens, and I would argue the primacy of valuing those whose role is care and support whether paid or unpaid as intrinsic to our being in community with each other. We have some considerable distance to travel before we fulfil that promise.

May I take this time to wish you and yours a restful and restoring time as we move through this eve of promise.

Donald Macaskill

Statement on Lord Advocate’s Changes to Covid19 Death notification

Statement re change in Operation Koper

 

“Scottish Care is pleased to hear of the decision of the Lord Advocate to change the requirements around the reporting of Covid19 deaths in care homes.

We are immensely disappointed that it has taken so long to reach this stage despite the many entreaties both from ourselves and countless frontline nurses, carers and managers.

Scottish Care has always stated that it is important that assurance was given to families, staff, and residents that their care and support was as of as high a quality as it could be despite the immense pressures of an unknown virus within a global pandemic. When the then Lord Advocate decided to change reporting requirements we expressed our concern that such changes were disproportionate and that they placed an undue burden on the delivery of frontline care and support and also ignored the human rights of frontline care-givers.

We very much regret the subsequent process of investigation which became known as Operation Koper and believe it has done immeasurable harm to frontline services and the women and men who work in it. We continue to assert that far from granting reassurance and comfort to those with understandable questions around the deaths of loved ones it has fractured relationships, inappropriately maligned the reputations of frontline staff and caused real harm.

We very much hope that forthcoming Inquiries and reflections will provide an opportunity to assess these harms and to ensure that such a process of disproportionate investigation and examination, regardless of motivation, does not happen in the treatment of an infectious disease in the future.”

 

Ends.

 

For Crown Office Statement see https://www.copfs.gov.uk/about-copfs/news/change-in-reporting-of-care-home-covid-19-deaths-to-the-procurator-fiscal/

The longing for place: a reflection on immigration

As many regular readers of this blog might know I read a lot of poetry for both enjoyment, stimulation, and relaxation – and lots of other reasons.  Most recently I have been reading a fair bit of Gaelic poetry – sadly and guiltily in translation – and have been struck by so many examples of visceral truthfulness from the pens of many contemporary and historical Gaelic poets.

My experience of Gaelic poetry is a long one. I well remember being taken to ‘ceilidhs’ in the 1970s held in Partick Burgh Hall in Glasgow under the auspices of a local Highland Association. These were opportunities for those who belonged to the Gaelic diaspora to come together, to listen to music, song, poetry, and story, and to share company together with friends and new friends. In the 60s and 70s and even into the 1980s they provided an essential place of support and belonging for those who had formed part of a West Highland and Island community because of the wave of immigration into Glasgow. The history of Highland immigration into the city is an old one but perhaps has two dominant waves – the first seeing the arrival of economic migrants as a result of the actions of grasping landlords in the 19th century and a second one after the Second World War in the 1950s where thousands left their homes in the north to seek employment and opportunity in the cities of central Scotland. It was one such movement that led my own parents to come to Glasgow in the very early 1960s.

I can remember after having listened to yet another Gaelic song of tear and departure and yet another poem of sadness and absence, asking my mother why was so much in Gaelic culture about these themes. She said – from memory – that people who leave where they feel they belong are always trying to return there in their songs, words, and music. That memory struck me again as I delved into the poetry of the Gaels more recently and in reading around this area, I came across a concept which I had not known of but beautifully summarises so much of my personal experience and story , namely the notion of cianalas. The dictionary defines it as a deep sense of longing for the place where your roots lie, a homesickness and nostalgia for the homeland. It is not always melancholic or sad, it is frequently hopefully and energetic, but it is a sense which I think I have felt and heard throughout my childhood and adult growing.

These thoughts came to mind this past week as I watched and read a lot about immigration, as I discussed the prospects of social care providers supporting new immigrant communities into the employment opportunities that social care can offer in Scotland, and sadly reflected on the tragic loss to drowning of those who attempted to get to Britain by sailing in an unfit boat in atrocious weather across the English Channel. I have personally found the discussion and debate around immigration in the UK Parliament to have been toxic and distasteful, an appeal to the basest form of xenophobic arrogance, selfish individualism, and a failure to recognise the inter-connectedness of all peoples, never mind the demographic realities of a country like Scotland which is desperately in need of the vitality, creativity and energy provided by new peoples.

Tomorrow on December 18th the United Nations, through the UN-related agency International Organization for Migration, will hold International Migrants Day to remember all individuals who have been migrants or still are and to reiterate the need to respect the rights and dignity of all. It is a day set aside by the United Nations to recognise the estimated 272 million migrants that are integral members of all our societies today.

I think at this time of the year and at a point when immigration is the subject of such lazy media stereotyping and political soundbites it is imperative for us all to develop a mature and humanity infused understanding of immigration. Our equal humanity bestows dignity on our breathing and presence, it is the behaviours and attitudes, the laws and policies of others that seek to remove that dignity and make that humanity illegal. It is an act of stigmatising which can and must never succeed. I am proudly the son of a diaspora, whose culture and heritage, whose moment and dreaming has been nurtured with the longing of a place I have rarely lived in but which lives in me. I am the child of cianalas and celebrate the strength and vison to be gained by belonging to a people who have in the past ventured into the new in order to achieve and fulfil their dreams. That is surely the story of migration the world over, as true yester year of my parents as it is true of those who struggle to journey to a new possibility today. It is a longing for place and purpose, for belonging and safety. The hospitality of nationhood is in the acceptance of welcome of stranger and migrant. It is in the finding of our immigrant soul that we discover our place in a community of diverse belonging,

The legality of immigration has been much discussed this past week and is a common reflection in the poetry of Juan Felipe Herrera, the Poet Laureate of the United States. In his poem “Every Day We Get More Illegal”, he speaks for those “in-between the light,” whose status of legality in the United States is at best ambiguous. I leave you with his insights as we reflect a few days out from Migrants Day.

 

Yet the peach tree

still rises

& falls with fruit & without

birds eat it the sparrows fight

our desert

 

burns with trash & drug

it also breathes & sprouts

vines & maguey

 

laws pass laws with scientific walls

detention cells   husband

with the son

the wife &

the daughter who

married a citizen

they stay behind broken slashed

 

un-powdered in the apartment to

deal out the day

& the puzzles

another law then   another

Mexican

Indian

spirit exile

 

migration                     sky

the grass is mowed then blown

by a machine  sidewalks are empty

clean & the Red Shouldered Hawk

peers

down  — from

an abandoned wooden dome

an empty field

 

it is all in-between the light

every day this     changes a little

 

yesterday homeless &

w/o papers                  Alberto

left for Denver a Greyhound bus he said

where they don’t check you

 

walking working

under the silver darkness

walking   working

with our mind

our life

 

Copyright © by Juan Felipe Herrera.  Everyday We Get More Illegal by Juan Felipe Herrera – Poems | poets.org

 

Donald Macaskill

The human rights gap: falling between legislation and enactment.

Today is Human Rights Day which is an annual international celebration and recognition of the critical role that human rights play or should play in all our lives.

The theme this year is Dignity, Freedom, and Justice for All and reflects both the international dimension to the 30 articles that constitute the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which underline the treatment, freedoms and fundamental expectations that citizens in all countries have the right to live under.

There is an added significance this year in that the 75th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights will be celebrated on 10 December 2023. Ahead of this a yearlong campaign is being launched today to showcase the ‘legacy, relevance and activism’ of the UNDHR. Under the call to action to #StandUp4HumanRights the organisers state that the UDHR highlighted the “recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.”

I have often written and commented about human rights in this blog. I have argued most recently that there is much potential in the Scottish plans to incorporate the International Covenant of Social, Cultural and Economic Rights into Scottish law. In particular the embedding of a broadly defined right to health to include the rights to social care, palliative and end of life care and bereavement support has much to offer the citizens of Scotland in the years to come.

But today is a time for honest reflection and appraisal not just recognition of achievements and the articulation of aspiration. Part of that reflection must surely be the extent to which the not insignificant existing human rights-based legislation has or has not made a real difference to people in the ordinariness of their living. Indeed, one of the oft quoted aspirations behind the creation of the UK Human Rights Act in 1996 was the desire to ‘bring human rights home. A desire to ensure that human rights were not restricted to dusty courtrooms, that they were not solely the preserve of legal discourse but that they meant something to everyone in a community regardless of circumstance.

I’ve reflected a lot about whether or not we’ve managed to bring human rights home. I’m not at all sure we have. Now lest I be accused of supporting the latest Westminster Government’s attempts to change and limit the current human right protections we all enjoy – that is absolutely not the case. The so-called plans to replace the Human Rights Act with other watered-down legislation are both damaging and dangerous. Far from replacing the Act I want to see it strengthened and better resourced. I want to see developed a new framework for national enactment, citizen participation and collective realisation.

In reflecting on the experience of so many not least older people during the pandemic and those receiving social care support in community and care home; in considering the extent to which there has been a lack of equal treatment, voice and inclusion over the last two and a bit years and in truth for a long period before – to name but two examples I would argue that there is a significant implementation gap between human rights based legislation and its enactment in practice.

It is all very well to have some of the most progressive and inclusive legislation in the world passed by parliamentarians both in London and more recently Holyrood – but if it is not empowered by enactment, if people are not able to exercise recourse or to know their rights in realisation; if there is a lack of resource to train, equip and engage all stakeholders – then human rights based legislation is empty and potentially duplicitous. There is I would suggest an urgent need to independently assess the extent to which human rights are being progressively realised in Scotland today. There is equal urgency in building and resourcing mechanisms and models that allow every citizen with a concern over the removal or diminution of their rights to have an ability to exercise immediate voice and if necessary to achieve urgent redress. We do not have such.

As we reflect on human rights this day and the coming year I very much hope we will also ensure that we continuously strive to develop a framework of human rights which have real accessible meaning for every citizen and not just a minority who are empowered to understand and access their rights. If we do, then the 75th anniversary will be really worth celebrating. If we do, then we can claim with integrity that we #StandupForHumanRights.

To celebrate the launch of the Human Rights Law Review in March 2015, the Human Rights Collegium asked Queen Margaret University London law students to submit poems on the theme of ‘Human Rights’. The winner was one Thomas Baynes who wrote ‘July 1995’. His words resonate as I read them in the winter of Ukrainian struggle but they also echo to the truth that human rights lost to some command those of us who are alive to act and hear.

 

From the depths they have cried to us,

While we sit by rivers and weep

in remembrance of their tears.

Their silent howl deafens out our

empty courteous words and fears.

 

There upon Balkan valley floor,

does the elemental death dance

over wood-brown coffins shrouded

in grass green cloths, suffocating

the humble dead who hold their breath.

 

White skulls stained brown and drowned in an

ocean of fog and dirt and blood.

Eyes, hair, smiles, all consumed by hate

and by the black ignorant mud,

lost to the tragedy of fate.

 

Why then, this terror and this pain?

For some forgotten lord’s dead name?

Or the glory of ancient gods?

Twas hate breeding love caused stillness

to roar and blameless tears to rain.

 

No affirming flame can be lit

to banish the dark from our minds,

No romantic lie can be told

to ease the reality of

our past torpors and woes.

 

We can only awake now to

the mute alarm of their lament

and raise ourselves from inertia,

so never again we should fail

to hear the breathless dead exhale.

 

https://pickmeuppoetry.org/july-1995-by-thomas-baynes/

 

Donald Macaskill

A tree of memory: grieving in a time of celebration.

Recently I read of ‘Tree Dressing Day’ which happens to be tomorrow, December 4th. It is a day which occurs on the first weekend of December and was started by the organisation Common Ground in 1990. Its origins are in diverse ancient and cultural traditions where trees are used to act as markers of memory not least for those who we grieve for.  As the originators of the idea of Tree Dressing Day remind us, trees have long been celebrated for their spiritual significance. Indeed, close to home there is an old Scottish and Celtic tradition where folks tied strips of cloth to a tree in memory of someone who had died and I remember from my childhood seeing such trees, often in isolated places, dressed as markers of memory on Skye. More recently, near to where I live there is a woodland with a ‘Fairy Walk’ where as well as objects to stimulate childhood imagination people have started to hang on a large old tree strips of cloth in memory of a child, partner or friend who has died. Dressing a tree in memory of the lost is timeless and ancient and happens across not just western, but also Buddhist and Hindu cultures.

I was thinking of this sense of ‘tree dressing’ yesterday evening as after no small amount of bullying I put up our Christmas tree – it’s not that I dislike the tree because like so many I feel it’s presence chases the darkness at a time of year which is all too cold and frozen – it’s just that every year there seems to be more to put up and decide what’s to stay and what’s not. It is also a process which conjures memory and association both because of decorations which were gifts from those no longer alive or which are conjurers of memory and association. Dressing a Christmas tree is a walk down a path of memory and usually that is a joyful experience but sometimes it is tinged with sadness.

As I dressed the tree last night, placing trinkets of touch and carriers of story on the branches I could not help but also recall that we have just started Grief Awareness Week.  It is a week which has numerous aims including ‘to raise awareness of all aspects of grief and loss on a national scale; and to open conversations and normalise grief.’

I am glad that Grief Awareness Week occurs at this time of year because from experience this is a really hard time of the year for those who are mourning and who are grieving. It is a time when the world is busy and focussed on celebration, where the air is filled with happiness, where folks are out to have a good time. It sits uncomfortably then to feel the ache of aloneness and emptiness which is the companion of grief; it feels as if you are spoiling life for others to be the constant reminder of someone not present, and on Christmas Day especially it is so hard to not let others down, so you end up cradling your grief in silence, sitting apart with loss at your side.

I know too many who these days and weeks will look for someone who is no longer going to be lying beside them in the morning; who will strain to hear the echoing of a voice now silent in death; who will put on a brave face for children who are learning the life-long lesson of an absent mother or father. I know too many who will look into the eyes of a husband who no longer knows their name and barely recognises their presence, those who are capturing every second of presence as the sands of time inexorably run through towards parting.

This is a hard time. So as I decorate a tree for celebration, I am also marking the lives of those whose living has been my loving and who are with me in memory and heart, knowing that not just at Christmas but every day I need to find the strength to tell their story, recall their face, and walk in the paths of grieving. I hope I also will not just in the coming week but throughout this month be sensitive to those for whom nothing can bring them warmth such is the coldness of their grief and I hope to give them the space of deep listening, the silence of simply being present, and the insight of a touch that shows solidarity.

The great Scottish poet Liz Lochhead sums up the contradiction of the Christmas tree in her poem ‘How I’ll Decorate My Tree.

 

It was still very far from Christmas

When my momma said to me:

Tell me, Precious, what you going to hang

On our Christmas tree?

 

I said: the fairy-lights that Dad just fixed!

And… jewel-coloured jelly-beans from the pick’n’mix –

Oh, and from it I’ll dangle tinsel in tangles,

Sparkles, sequins and spangles,

A round golden coin (chocolate money),

That cracker joke that was actually funny.

My rosary beads – and a plastic rose

As red as Rudolph Reindeer’s nose,

The gnome that grows the tangerines,

The picture of me with my tambourine,

And (Mum’s favourite, she says)

The photo of all of us in our PJ’s –

The Ladybird Book that Lola lent me,

The blue butterfly bracelet that Brittany sent me,

The ear-ring I lost,

A pop-up Jack Frost,

A space-hopper, an everlasting gobstopper,

A pink-eyed sugar mouse,

The keys to my Grandfather’s house,

A tiny pair of trainers with silver laces,

And – now my smile is straight – gonna hang up my braces!

A marble, an angel-scrap, a star,

The very last sweetie out my Advent Calendar,

A kiss under the mistletoe,

A mitten still cracked with a crunch and a creak of snow,

That glitter scarf I finally got sick of,

A spoon with cake-mix still to lick off,

The Dove of Peace that our Darren made,

Some green thoughts in our tree’s green shade –

 

I’ll hang every evergreen memory

Of moments as melted and gone

As that candle that was supposed to smell

Of cinnamon –

Memories big as a house and as small ’s

The baubles I used to call ball-balls.

 

With pleasure I’ll treasure them

Then, on proper Christmas Day, I’ll show them all to you

Between the Queen’s Speech and Doctor Who!

 

https://poetrysociety.org.uk/poems/how-ill-decorate-my-tree/

 

Donald Macaskill

The giftedness of humanity: a seasonal reflection

It is as I am sure many of you will know only 29 days till Christmas. The shopping and buying frenzy is well and truly on. Christmas lights are lit up in the city centres and I’m starting to see trees appearing in windows. I’ve even received my first Christmas cards of the year! And yes, it’s not even December!

I have to confess to being an unmitigated lost romantic soul about Christmas – I love it! But there are aspects which I struggle with most years and perhaps this year in particular.

Yesterday was Black Friday and indeed the past week in emails and websites, television and radio I’ve heard nothing other than the bargains that are just waiting to be snatched up in a shopping frenzy. Black Friday is the popular name given to the Friday after Thanksgiving in the United States. It’s only been around I gather since 2005 but it has now become a dominant retail feature on this side of the Atlantic as much as in the States. It has also spawned off-shoots such as Cyber Monday which in case you hadn’t known is a day to get all those bargains you didn’t know were out there on the technology and digital gadgets you didn’t know you needed.

The older I get the larger the part of me that gets uncomfortable with the sheer commercialism of this time of year and the pressure to buy, buy, buy. Now lest I be called out as a Scrooge I am not for a minute denying the importance of gifting and generosity but especially this year I wonder if we have the balance, right?

I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of giving this week not just because I’ve had a bit of a visceral reaction to Black Friday but because of a conversation I’ve had with a professional home-carer. She works in an area which has immense economic challenges combined with so many of the effects of poverty, homelessness, and addiction. In her own words she’s a ‘tough cookie’ but she told me that’s she has been brought to tears on more than one occasion recently. She told me of someone she provides support for by getting her up out of bed, making sure her personal care needs are attended to and by making her her breakfast before returning later in the day to support her to bed at night. She told me that despite the sharp drop in temperatures this week every day she visited the old lady had refused to put her heating on. As the week went on, she was quite literally getting colder and colder. The worker took appropriate action but what upset her most was that when she asked the lady why she was refusing to put her heating on the response was one of hyper anxiety that she would run out of money. She then went on to say that any extra she could save she’d give to her grandchildren who were doing extra shifts and work just to make ends meet.

I’ve written before about poverty, but it’s cold reality is a stark reminder of the imbalance of our communities. As thousands get a Black Friday bargain there are thousands frightened by the fear as much as by the reality of poverty.

As an antidote to Black Friday and Cyber Monday on Tuesday coming many will celebrate and recognise Giving Tuesday. It has sometimes been called Charity Tuesday.

It is a day supported by many global and local organisations and philanthropists to encourage everyone everywhere to do something to support the causes that matter to them – and it’s not just about money.

As the organisers state:

‘You can volunteer your time; donate money; share your skills; campaign for something; donate goods, food, or clothes; organise a community event such as a street or park clean-up or a coffee morning. The list really is endless.’

Created just 12 years ago Giving Tuesday is a day that encourages people to do good and it has over the last decade become a global movement to celebrate giving and generosity, collaboration and sharing

In the run up to Christmas my mother often used to paraphrase a biblical verse to say that it was always ‘better to give than to receive.’ And whilst as a child I probably dismissed the sentiment as an excuse for scarcity its truth is becoming more and more inescapable as I get older.

A few years ago, when I worked in a learning disability project I spent a lot of time training other people in the models of person-cratered planning and the tools and techniques which could be used to help people – many of whom were non-verbal or who had spent years in institutions – to achieve a better life in which they were independent and in control. One of the core concepts of many of the models was that of ‘giftedness’. As the product of a traditional Scottish upbringing, I struggled both to understand and to convey an idea which struck me as oh so American. In essence giftedness was not the objects or stuff we give to another but that unique contribution which we brought, and which was ours in any interaction or relationship. In a society that bestows value and prestige often by possession and wealth it was a process that turned the table by elevating individuality, presence and contribution. So, a smile, a positive attitude, the ability to make others feel at ease or to inspire – these were all ‘gifts’ and the task of the group was to help a person not only to discover the gift which was theirs but to free, develop and celebrate that ‘gift.’ You can see how that might have sat awkwardly in a cultural context that so often was about not being too big for your boots!

Giving is something that really can change lives not solely the gifts of time or resource or money but the gifts of attention and our own unique humanity. In the next few weeks when so many are faced with the raw economic challenges of barely having enough money to survive and keep going, I earnestly hope that the spirit of Giving Tuesday can fill the month of December with a focus not on the bargains of the season but the humanity of our giftedness one to the other.

The poet Kahlil Gibran said On Giving

‘Then said a rich man, Speak to us of Giving.

And he answered:

You give but little when you give of your possessions.

It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.

For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?

And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?

And what is fear of need by need itself?

Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable?

It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding;

And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving.

And is there aught you would withhold?

All you have shall some day be given;

Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors’.

From The Prophet (Knopf, 1923). This poem is in the public domain.

Donald Macaskill

Re-imagining care homes – time to explore.

The following talk was in part delivered at the close of the Scottish Care Care Home Conference held in Glasgow yesterday.

 I don’t get much time for reading these days so when I do something needs to capture and hold me – and one book recently has done just that – Sir Geoff Mulgan is Professor of Collective Intelligence, Public Policy and Social Innovation at University College London. He used to be chief executive of Nesta and held government roles including as Downing Street’s head of policy in the early noughties. He’s written a book called ‘Another World is Possible: how to reignite social and political imagination.’ I’d thoroughly recommend it as it is a book brim-full of ideas and insights, no little challenge and a lot of provocation.

Its main argument is that as societies and the world face the challenges of living in the light of the pandemic and the ‘slow calamity of climate change, we also face a third, less visible emergency: ‘a crisis of imagination.’

Mulgan argues that especially the young struggle to imagine a world better than the one we live in now and that perhaps they are the first generation so to believe – the first generation which is less positive about the future we are creating and leaving for our inheritors. Too many are resigned to fatalism or at most tinkering on the edges of real change and transformation. This crisis of imagination is crippling us and we need to discover ways to reimagine the future to reimagine better and to visualise how we are going to arrive and get there.

I don’t know about you but I certainly want the children of my living and the community of my belonging to be living in a world better than it is now and I still with Mulgan believe a better world is possible.

And I know that’s hard – it’s risky to dream and visualise change and difference and not be accused of escapism and utopian folly – but I think that’s what we have to do even after a day in which we have not exactly avoided or not heard the challenges facing the care home sector in Scotland.

I want to use some of what Mulgan says to spend a bit of time at the end of our day reflecting on the future of care homes. I want the reflection to be practical in nature, but I also want to challenge both myself and ourselves. I am starting from the premise – that we urgently need to re-imagine the future of care homes and aged care in general – in part because I do not think we can stand still, that what we offer now will not be fit for purpose in fifteen or twenty years, and that if the sector and its leadership does not do the work of re-imagining tomorrow’s care and support  – along with those who use supports and their advocates and those who are likely to be users of aged care in the future  – then the re-design will be undertaken by the misinformed, biased and partisan – no doubt accusations which will be directed towards myself. But I’m also convinced that re-imagining always is an activity shared with others never a solitary pursuit if real change is desired.

So why is imagination so important? Mulgan explores this in great depth using insights from Socrates to Star Wars and with him I believe that ‘Society now and in the future depends on imagination.’

He rightly critiques the fact that there is a real dearth of imagination and a poverty of ideas in our society… and I think that accusation can be amplified when we think of the world of social care – and I will be honest from what I have seen thus far from the ideas of the National Care Service – although there is a lot of good stuff, its view of the imagined possible future is predictable, pedestrian and a re-shaping of the known into a familiar future not one that will outlive its designers. And lazy re-imagining is dangerous and inexcusable – because and this is selfish – I do not want a future world of social care support to be the fruit of compromise and affordability, of lazy design and casual engagement – I want it to be a horizon which draws me in and which opens up a new world for me.

Imagination is a powerful force and tool if used well. For something to be it has to become real and imagining something births that reality. Ideas do not come from nothing, new systems, and ways of relating originate somewhere with someone or they remain forever locked in our heads.

Imagining the future of care homes is not about cloud cuckoo land but recognising that the fruit of tomorrow is already growing in the soil of our present experience.

Part of what I think the residential care sector has to do is to develop what Mulgan calls the ‘adjacent possible’ – the nearby options which are the alternatives to present arrangements – but have a spark of the familiar. But I also think we have to go much further than just tweaking or light changes – we have to be much more adventurous and explorative. We have to develop a collective of care imaginaries – people who have the skill and foresight to imagine a better future and a different way of being and doing aged care.

Social care in Scotland badly needs dreamers and people who can see beyond the limited vision of the now. That’s why I have looked with real interest at the HIVE collective. But I hope you will excuse me because I am going to try and picture a different future –to try to expand what Mulgan calls the ‘possibility space’ ; to backcast into the future.

In visualising that future I want to plant certain seeds in the present and you can decide if they grow and flourish or if they deserve to shrivel in the earth.

The first is that we have to urgently re-imagine age:

I do hope that at some point today you have had the chance to drop by the stall staffed by colleagues from the University of Stirling and elsewhere and have learned more about the project Reimagining the Future of Older Age. They have done some brilliant work including producing a gorgeous film by Ray Bird. The project is about how we think about the future as we age and as we become older; does the future matter more or does it matter less? It challenges the dominant stereotype and cultural narrative which presents older age as nothing to do with the future – the belief that the future belongs to the young.

Dr Valerie Wright now of Glasgow University reflects that as we grow up we always ask young people ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’  but no- one ever asks older people what do you want to do in the future? What do you want to do when you get older? Who do you want to be? And how very true she is.

A reimagining of age is necessary to challenge the inadequacy of those narratives and societal biases. As I have consistently and often said I have personally witnessed first-hand, lives transformed and changed, as in the last months, days and moments of life a reconciliation has been nurtured, a discovery made, a new creative contribution shared, and a new loving started.  The future has no use by date.

And let’s be honest the world of social care and aged care is too often dominated by a narrative which accepts the bias against contribution and capacity of older age.

For instance, we have rightly used reminiscence – a looking back – as a mechanism and a means to ease the distress of those with neurological conditions such as dementia – but I increasingly wonder whether the dominance of reminiscence approaches is misplaced and that we are losing real neurological benefit by not adopting a more futuristic approach to dementia care and support and to older aged care in general.

Reimagining age whether in care home or community is a fundamental first step to the reimagining of a future of contribution and new discovery.

The second seed which I think the world of aged care needs is to re-imagine the very essence and nature of collective living, of being in community in older age with one others.

It is inescapable – and this is true of the world over – that we must ask a fundamental question as to whether or not congregated or collective or group living remains an appropriate modern form of being in community with others.

Or being blunt do we just do it for those who are too old, too frail, too poor, because it is the cheapest way for a society to hold to its moral and ethical duties of care? Hard words but unless we can answer them in an affirmative way which says no – that collective living in older age can be life-changing, life affirming and life enhancing – then we are deceiving no-one.

Now my personal premise is that I really do believe that the future – to say nothing of the present – is about us living by choice not by cost – in community alongside others.

Some would say congregated living is always wrong – never acceptable – and Twitter is alive with a narrative which equates care homes as removers of rights, limiters of choice and control, ‘prisons’ of individuality. That critique has to be answered honestly.

But personally, I believe there is a future for collective and shared living and one of the reasons is that it is better than isolated loneliness. It will not be long before the majority of people in Scotland over the age of 65 will be living in single person households – and we have already witnessed a saddening growth in isolation, loneliness and mental distress amongst those who are alone – so it is not unreasonable to suggest that increasingly there will be a growing number of people who choose to live alongside others, and at a stage of  life when they have control and capacity – that shared collective living becomes something that is desirable and beneficial.

But just as I am convinced that collective and shared living has a place in the future of aged care – so I am equally convinced that a radical re-design of the way we deliver care and support in a shared space is very necessary.

There is a narrative which says that shared living is about creating a home from home; that care homes are people’s homes first and foremost. Inevitably there is a counter critique not least as a result of pandemic response and behaviours, that says that care homes have failed in being a person’s home. So the sector has to honestly ask, in replicating a home from home how are we doing?

Are our care homes places where people can live and love, rest and be loved, grow and be fulfilled, discover and change – or are they rather places where folks work, people are checked and viewed, monitored and evaluated? Are they places where we obsess about risk or let the mess flow, are they tidy or unkempt, disease free or life affirming?

We use home not to limit or imprison us but as a place to be ourselves, to be fed and renewed, to rest and relax, to entertain and be entertained, to sleep and restore, to be secure and be comfortable, to hide and be private. Are our care homes such a space and place?

For me a home is a place to make memories – what are the memories made in our care homes? Are they life enhancing or life limiting?

If we answer that care homes are not a home from home, then we have to ask honestly can we change that to a yes?

My third seed is that for me part of the re-imagining of aged care must surely be about build and design. Imagine a world will you where you all live in exactly the same type of house – everything is the same – no variety and no distinctiveness – every room measures the same, the layout identical, the windows are where they are – the mundanity of the predictable rules. But your individuality is allowed up to a point – you can decorate the space as you want – you can even bring some of your own things – providing they are of suitable material as to prevent infectious spread and conflagration. Not that much of a caricature in case I’m accused of it

The future has to be not so much about the architecture of design and more about the imagination of space. I think we need a radical redesign of space and place so that we allow both architectural and design freedom -collective living in space needs a revolution – or we will continue to ghettoise older age – at its worst in places separate from community by geography and cost or separated from connection even in the midst of busyness. Aged care beyond four walls does not just happen by accident it has to be purposefully designed and built.

There are emerging examples of such creativity like the ‘What we Share’ models in Stavanger Norway; Berlin’s ‘baugruppen’; Lange Enk in Denmark or Kraftwerk 2 in Switzerland.

We have a chance to capture the design spirit of the age. The idea of ‘fifteen-minute cities’ – sometimes known as 20-minute neighbourhoods – probably needs little introduction. Strongly associated with the Paris professor Carlos Moreno, and the mayor Anne Hidalgo, it has gained extra energy from the pandemic and the changes in our living in community. Its basic premise is that all our daily necessities can be accomplished by either walking or cycling from our homes. It shrinks the whole concept of what local means to the touching – or walking distance of our neighbourhood. It is closely linked to the concept which is becoming hugely popular of ‘ageing in place’ which is “the ability to live in one’s own home and community safely, independently, and comfortably, regardless of age, income, or ability level.” Ageing in place has something to say to the future of aged care in residential and nursing shared communities.

My last seed is that we radically need to re-imagine the nature of scrutiny, inspection and oversight in aged care. Of course, both families and residents, and wider society needs a sense of assurance about the quality and humanity of care – but increasingly I feel we have the balance all wrong. A care home resident is more closely observed, monitored, and watched than your average penguin at Edinburgh Zoo. The human right to privacy, to dignity alone, to the joy of absence, the hiddenness of living – all are lost when we turn our aged care settings into goldfish bowls. The individuality and uniqueness of the person, the desire to take risks and make mistakes, to fall in your failing and rise in your discovery are put aside if we adopt measures that limit self-expression, individuality, and freedom.

The perverse irony is that all our standards and statements talk about systems being person-centred but leave no room for care support to be person led by resident and family. At the very least we need a radical balancing of risk in aged care regulation. The constant current behaviour and presumption of the right to intrude on the part of outside agencies is offensive and unacceptable.

I could go on but for me this is a conversation not a soliloquy – the future of aged care in Scotland – of collective shared living is too important to leave to accident or happenstance – it needs a work of imaginative discovery and exploration.

I love old maps because at their best they are not about helping you find your way, but they tell you the story of a community or nation at a particular time. None more so than ancient medieval maps. On many of these maps at the edge you can sometimes see a picture of a wild beast and the words ‘ Here be dragons…’ – that was for all the places which were unknown and yet to be discovered.

Explorers use the knowledge they have to try and test the waters of the future – they venture into the unknown, but they are not just dreamers searching for utopia – because they use the skills and instruments of their known reality to create a different tomorrow.

Reimagining the future of aged care is about travelling beyond the known into a new world of discovery – it’s about re-designing with others, a future we want to achieve – it is a world where older age still grows And flourishes and changes and contradicts; it is a space and place where conformity to design is replaced by the adventure of personal control and choice; it is an experience of self-freedom rather than external monitoring; put simply it has to be a world which we would be proud for our children and our grandchildren to inherit.

 

Donald Macaskill

Making Movember matter: preventing early male death.

Many of you will know that November is a month dedicated to give special focus to issues of male health. It is also a month increasingly known as Movember because of the international movement of that name.

The origins of the Movember movement which has funded over 1,200 men’s health projects globally are relatively recent. A TV news programme in 1999 shared the story of a group of young men in Adelaide, South Australia who coined the term “Movember” and the idea of growing moustaches for charity throughout the month of November. Like all good ideas it seems to have originated in a pub discussion but has done a huge amount not only in Australia but across the globe to increase awareness of male health. Movember in all its charitable work has raised $174-million worldwide.

Movember has a particular focus on prostate and testicular cancer, suicide prevention and male mental health.

As someone who grew up in west Scotland and in a cultural and community environment where men rarely spoke about issues of mental health and emotion, saw going to the doctor as a sign of failure, and certainly did not consider precautionary actions in detecting cancers, the amazing work of Movember seems light years away and evidence of very real change and progress.

Yet I wonder if we have changed all that much. Indeed, having worked in health and social care for quite a while I remain astonished at the frequent resistance of men to take up opportunities around health screening and wellbeing. There clearly are still deeply ingrained cultural and societal attitudes and behaviours which assume that seeking help, talking about your feelings and sharing fears and concerns, or simply just attending to one’s own health are activities not deemed to be masculine and male.  Damaging nonsense which must surely come from somewhere.

It is well known that men will die on average 4.5 years earlier than women, and for reasons that are largely preventable. Men are simply dying too young, and it does not need to be like that. As I visit care homes it is clearly the case that our male population is seriously under-represented amongst the very old. Surely this is a silent reality that we should all be seeking to prevent? Movember has a clear aim and that is to reduce preventable male death by 25% by the year 2030. It is a laudable and perfectly achievable aim if we change the narrative around masculinity, maleness and health. I would contend that this must start with our approach to stereotypes in relation to health at a very young age. The absence of strong male role models positive about health and preventative care and behaviour does not help in this battle against avoidable death.

The data and statistics are self-selling and self-evident. Prostate cancer is the most commonly diagnosed cancer in men in the UK. Testicular cancer is the most common cancer in men aged 25-49. On average, 13 men each day take their life by suicide in the UK. In Scotland, one man in four dies before the age of 65. Indeed, healthy life expectancy for men has fallen by more than a year in Scotland, with no similar change seen in other UK nations. Life expectancy for males at birth was 60.9 years in 2018-2020, a drop of 1.4 years on the previous two-year period, according to the Office for National Statistics. These are statistics that require focused action.

There are some tremendous and creative organisations focussed on male health in Scotland and yet there strikes me as a lack of coordination and policy focus in attending to this major area of public health. This is especially noticeable when I explore what is available for older men where the lack of provision and resource seems especially concerning. Movements such as Movember are to be greatly lauded and supported but they can be no substitute for governmental and system focus on the prioritising of the needs of men in our population, not least older men, and nowhere more so than in Scotland.

I couldn’t put it better than the words of the internet poet forty two who wrote:

 

The Antidote to Man Flu (Movember Muse)

 

Man flu is not a decease

or a medical condition

but shameful terminology

and psychological attrition

designed to keep men working

and pretend they are not ill

because their health is less important

than the tasks they must fulfil

 

Then the demand that men “man up”

translates to ignore distress or pain

ignore your personal wellbeing

for anther’s personal gain

compounded by the social stigma

should a man dare to complain

or should he show emotion

people react like he’s insane

 

The ratlin and prozac

that the doctors freely give

create controlled existence

and stifle the ability to live

it’s time to end the shame

silence the voices in your head

and the first step is to prescribe

a pill thats coloured red

 

https://allpoetry.com/poems/about/mens-health

 

Donald Macaskill

 

Remembering is an act of loving.

Next Friday in regimented moments of silence the nation will come together to remember all those who in a growing number of conflicts paid the ultimate sacrifice of their lives for the love of other. For the diminishing few who were alive during the Second World War this year’s reflections will have an added poignancy not least because a mainstay of connection will be absent following the death of Elizabeth the Queen. But perhaps an even more acute resonance is because we are remembering at a time when Europe is once again witnessing the barbarity of war and the evil which is humanity’s hatred of others. How little we remember.

Anyone who has been following the images from Ukraine will know well the horrors that tens of thousands have and are still enduring. You will call to witness the thousands of men, women and children who have had to flee to find rest and rescue in other nations of Europe including Scotland. It is beyond comprehension that in the 21st century we are watching on our television screens scenes of destruction and bombing resonant with those of the 1940s. How little we remember.

I suspect like many of my age who have not known war directly I have often asked of others the question as to why with such distance of time we still remember in formal gatherings. I’ve answered that query in part because of a personal need to pay tribute to those in my own family who fought and in some cases died in war, even if known only to me by name and story. But the older I get the more convinced I become of the importance of remembrance both as a collective act of solidarity and of commitment but also as something which needs to with ever greater energy become part of the rhythm of our togetherness. The act of remembering is an act of loving.

So what is it on Friday and every day that as individuals and as a community we should seek to remember and to piece together from the fragments of our feelings inside our hearts and minds?

That’s always going to be an individual response but for me at this time and in this place where priorities seem so skewed and when fear is so prevalent amongst the old and ill, those in my world who work in and receive social care supports – remembering has to be about active loving.

Remember as we silently stand the lives of those shut in by fear of not being able to pay their bills and who risk coldness and worsening health.

Remember all those working in homecare and care home, who try every day to soothe the hard memories of confusion and distress for those whose worlds dementia has shrunk.

Remember all who are sitting looking at an empty chair because love and togetherness has died and a routine of echoing sadness fills their home and days.

Remember those going without food today because they have chosen to feed their child or clothe their neighbour.

Remember those across our nation who have called our streets their place and our homes their hearth but whose love and loves are in a Ukrainian or foreign shore.

Remember those who feel no one knows their pain, hears their story or cares about their living.

Remembering is empty and is an action of avoidance unless it is accompanied by a focus to make memory real and to change the reality of pain. So as we remember let us focus with a renewed vigour on creating a tomorrow worthy of remembering.

Joy Haribo was appointed the United States poet laureate in June 2019, and is the first Native American poet laureate in the history of the position. She is a member of the Mvskoke/Creek Nation and belongs to Oce Vpofv. Drawing on both her upbringing and cultural knowledge and studies Harjo’s life and poetry is grounded in the natural world and by a strong emphasis on the spiritual. She uses native chants and prayers in her poetry which evidences both a desire to memorialise and as a call to action for the creation of an environmental and human justice. One of my favourite Harjo poems is ‘Remember’ which calls us to recognise and rejuvenate with the connectedness of our belonging to the natural and relational world around us. Remembering has to be an act of loving.

Remember

Remember the sky that you were born under,

know each of the star’s stories.

Remember the moon, know who she is.

Remember the sun’s birth at dawn, that is the

strongest point of time. Remember sundown

and the giving away to night.

Remember your birth, how your mother struggled

to give you form and breath. You are evidence of

her life, and her mother’s, and hers.

Remember your father. He is your life, also.

Remember the earth whose skin you are:

red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth

brown earth, we are earth.

Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their

tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,

listen to them. They are alive poems.

Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the

origin of this universe.

Remember you are all people and all people

are you.

Remember you are this universe and this

universe is you.

Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.

Remember language comes from this.

Remember the dance language is, that life is.

Remember.

Remember by Joy Harjo – Poems | Academy of American Poets

Donald Macaskill

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as stressed as I am these days. I just don’t feel in control of things anymore.” A reflection.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as stressed as I am these days. I just don’t feel in control of things anymore.”

These are the words of a carer this past week. She is an unpaid carer for her husband who is living with a progressive and degenerative disease which sadly is terminal. She has been his wife, carer, confidant, and lover for a long time. She is well used to the highs and lows of his condition and his mood swings. She manages and relates with a degree of positivity and optimism that friends and family around think to be astonishing and remarkable. But things have been getting progressively harder and harder over the last few weeks and months. There are so many things which have been the straw to break her back of positivity – the withdrawal of Covid protective measures which now make her feel she is imprisoned in her own home because going out makes her feel she risks returning with the disease and killing her husband. Added to that is her anxiety over how she is going to be able to pay energy bills even after the promised assistance because being at home all the time in a Scottish winter costs a lot. Then there are the rising food costs, crazy prices 60-70 % more than a few weeks ago. But most of all she is just tired and weary. Family are great and friends supportive but especially in the long dark nights the relentlessness  of compassion costs her so much and it aches into her bones. But all the time she knows that the tick of an invisible clock brings her closer to the day when she will be alone and that perhaps more than anything else stresses her inside and out.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as stressed as I am these days. I just don’t feel in control of things anymore.”

These words sum up quite a few of the conversations I’ve had in the last few days and weeks with professional paid staff both in homecare and in our care homes. On top of the struggles to pay the energy bills, or the petrol to get to work in the first place there are so many pressures and stresses which folks often don’t get. Caring is a job like no other – it costs you and those around you because you are continually giving and sharing. Care is not about the task of a hand or the function of something you do, but it is rather the sharing of a heart and the solidarity of being with another in good time and in ill. But the thought which has held heavy for so many I speak to is the fear of going into another winter. The last two have been so very hard but the unknown quantity of a resurgent Covid – because if you care you know the truth that Covid never left in the summer and is now getting worse – and the anxiety of a virulent flu – is freezing out hope and optimism. And yet perhaps the most acute anxiety and stress is that there are so many thousands who receive care support who are already struggling. Jane told me of making five visits to older people supported in their own home that morning and four of them had turned their heating off because they fear the bills. She is really worried that one day she will find someone has died from the cold. Caring is becoming harder by the day.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as stressed as I am these days. I just don’t feel in control of things anymore.”

John runs the care home founded by his father and mother. He loved playing there as a child and getting to know so many older residents. They were and are his family. He went away and did many other things, but the pull of care took him home to this special place. After training and qualifications, he ended up becoming the manager. He has been in the trenches of despair and loss with residents and families over the last two years but when I spoke to him a few days ago it was the first time he was on the edge of tears. He simply cannot see any way that he can continue to hold onto the staff he has, to continue to deliver the quality care he wants, and at the same time pay the energy bulls which are (even after support) thousands of pounds more; agency staffing costs which for one night are the equivalent of paying for a nurse for a fortnight; and rising costs for food and other supplies. And unlike any other business he cannot turn the lights off, close the door for a day or charge more, not least as his main client, the local authority, pays the same amount as before. John is in tears because he feels he has no option than to close the home which has been so much part of his life – but he feels he needs to do so to make sure he keeps his residents safe this winter

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as stressed as I am these days. I just don’t feel in control of things anymore.”

All these scenarios are illustrative of the very real stress those living with and in the world of social care are experiencing at this time. I was reflecting on so many more similar stories of stress being now experienced when I discovered that this coming Wednesday is the annual National Stress Awareness Day.

There are millions up and down the country who are feeling real stress and anxiety currently. The economic and political events of the last few weeks and months have added a real burden on to people and their communities. Such stress is deeply affecting the wellbeing of individuals and our society as a whole. Indeed, the Mental Health Foundation has stated that at some point in the last year, 74% of us have felt so stressed that we have felt unable to cope.

The experts tell us that stress is the feeling of being under too much mental or emotional pressure. ‘Stress is your body’s reaction to help you deal with pressure or threats. This is sometimes called a “fight or flight” response. Your stress hormone levels usually return to normal once the pressure or threat has passed. But in the world of social care we seem to lurch from one stress trigger to another with little or no respite. ‘When stress is overwhelming it can cause other mental health problems, emotional exhaustion and physical illness and can impact on work, relationships, families, and every aspect of life. When someone is suffering from negative or overwhelming stress, they may not act or react normally in some situations, for example driving or in an argument, with disastrous consequences.’

I cannot but conclude at this time that the women and men who care, both paid and unpaid, and the managers, nurses and supervisors in care homes and homecare services are under the most immense and intense stress that I or they can remember. What such stress needs is practical and concerted political and societal action to both recognise the reality of the stress, identify solutions to it, and to address these with an urgency and immediacy.

As we turn back the clocks and enter the darker days and nights of the year, we have to offer a light of hope and positivity to folks who are in such dire anxiety and distress. Platitudinal actions and referring people to self-help wellbeing mechanisms will not suffice – it is time for society to get serious and to actively relieve the stress on those who care because they are beyond the point of resilience, they are now breaking.

Donald Macaskill