By Judith Graham, KFF Health News
Donald Hammen, 80, and his longtime south Minneapolis neighbor, Julie McMahon, have an agreement. Every morning she checks to see if he has raised the blinds on his dining room window. If not, she calls Hammen or lets herself into his house to see what's happening.
If McMahon finds Hammen unwell, she plans to contact his sister-in-law, who lives in a Des Moines suburb. This is his closest relative. Hammen never married or had any children, and his younger brother died in 2022.
Although Hammen lives alone, a network of relationships connects him to his city and community – neighbors, friends, former colleagues, fellow volunteers at a senior advocacy group, and fellow members of a bunch of solo travelers. McMahon is an emergency contact, as is a former colleague. When Hammen was hit by a automobile in February 2019, one other neighbor was doing his laundry. A friend got here over to maintain him company. Other people walked with Hammen as he got back on his feet.
These connections are definitely sustainable. But Hammen has no idea who would care for him if he were now not in a position to take care of himself.
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get there,” he told me.
These are fundamental questions for older adults who live alone: Who shall be there for them, in matters big and small? Who will help them navigate and advocate for the increasingly complex healthcare system? Who will take out the trash if it's too heavy to hold? Who shovels the snow when a winter storm blows?
American society assumes that families care for themselves. But 15 million Americans ages 50 and older didn’t have close family—spouses, partners, or children—in 2015, essentially the most recent 12 months for which reliable estimates can be found. Most lived alone. By 2060, this number is anticipated to rise to 21 million.
In addition, tens of millions of seniors living alone usually are not physically near adult children or other members of the family. Or they’ve difficult, strained relationships that prevent them from asking for support.
These older adults must seek help from other agencies when needed. They often turn to neighbors, friends, church members or community groups – or paid help in the event that they can afford it.
And often they simply go without, leaving them vulnerable to isolation, depression and declining health.
Can non-family helpers be an adequate alternative if seniors living alone haven’t any close relatives? This has not been well studied.
“We are just beginning to better understand that people have a variety of connections outside of their family that are essential to their well-being,” said Sarah Patterson, a demographer and sociologist on the University of Michigan Institute for Social Research.
The takeaway from a remarkable one Study published by researchers at Emory University, Johns Hopkins University and the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai: Many seniors adjust to living alone by connecting local social networks of friends, neighbors, nieces and nephews, and siblings (if any can be found). ) to support their independence.
Still, it's not all the time easy to search out reliable local connections. And non-family caregivers is probably not willing or in a position to provide consistent, intensive, hands-on care when needed.
When AARP asked People it calls “loners.” In 2022, only 25% said they may count on someone to assist them with cooking, cleansing, shopping, or other household tasks when needed. Only 38% said they knew someone who could help them manage ongoing care needs. (AARP defined solo travelers as those age 50 or older who usually are not married, haven’t any living children, and live alone.)
Linda Camp, 73, a former administrator for town of St. Paul, Minnesota, who never married or had children, did so wrote several reports for the Citizens League in St. Paul about growing old alone. Still, she was surprised at how much help she needed this summer when she had cataract surgery on each eyes.
A former colleague accompanied Camp to the surgery center twice and waited until the procedures were accomplished. A comparatively latest friend took her to a follow-up appointment. An 81-year-old downstairs neighbor agreed to come back upstairs if Camp needed anything. Other friends and neighbors also helped.
Camp was lucky – she has a big network of former colleagues, neighbors and friends. “What I tell people when I talk about solos is that all kinds of connections have value,” she said.
Michelle Wallace, 75, a former technology project manager, lives alone in a single-family home in Broomfield, Colorado. She has worked hard to construct a neighborhood support network. Wallace has been divorced for nearly three many years and has no children. Although she has two sisters and a brother, they live distant.
Wallace describes himself as completely happy with out a partner. “Coupling isn’t for me,” she told me after we first spoke. “I need my space and privacy too much.”
Instead, she maintains relationships with several people she met through local solo travel groups. Many have grow to be her close friends. Two of them, each of their 70s, were “like sisters,” Wallace said. Another who lives just a couple of blocks away has agreed to grow to be a “We Help Each Other When Needed” partner.
“In our 70s, solo travelers are looking for support systems. And the worst thing is not having any friends around,” Wallace told me. “It’s the local network that’s really important.”
Gardner Stern, 96, who lives alone on the twenty fourth floor of the Carl Sandburg Village apartment complex north of downtown Chicago, was far less premeditated. He never planned for his care needs as he aged. He just assumed it will work.
They did, but not in the way in which Stern predicted.
The one that helps him essentially the most is his third wife, Jobie Stern, 75. The couple divorced acrimoniously in 1985, but now she goes to all his doctor's appointments, goes shopping with him and drives him to physical therapy twice every week Stop by every afternoon to speak for an hour or so.
She can be Gardner's neighbor – she lives ten floors above him in the identical constructing.
Why is she doing this? “I guess because I moved into the building and he's really old and a really good guy and we have a kid together,” she told me. “I’m happy knowing he’s doing as well as he can.”
For a few years, she said, she and Gardner put their differences aside.
“I never expected that from Jobie,” Gardner told me. “I think time heals all wounds.”
Gardner's other necessary local contacts include Joy Loverde, 72, an writer of elder care books, and her 79-year-old husband, who continue to exist the twenty eighth floor. Gardner calls Loverde his “tell it like it is” friend – the one who helped him resolve it was time to stop driving, the one who persuaded him to have a walk-in shower in his bathroom Bench will play Scrabble with him every week and provides practical advice at any time when he has an issue.
“I think without her I would be in an assisted living facility,” Gardner said.
There can be family: 4 children, all based in Los Angeles, eight grandchildren, mostly in LA, and nine great-grandchildren. Gardner sees most members of this prolonged clan about annually and speaks with them often, but he cannot depend on them for his each day needs.
Loverde and Jobie are only an elevator ride away. “I have these wonderful people overseeing my existence and a big-screen TV and a freezer full of good frozen meals,” Gardner said. “That’s all I need.”
©2024 KFF Health News. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.
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