Navigating Aging Archives - KFF Health News https://kffhealthnews.org/topics/navigating-aging/ Tue, 21 Jan 2025 17:50:35 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.6.2 https://kffhealthnews.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/kffhealthnews-icon.png?w=32 Navigating Aging Archives - KFF Health News https://kffhealthnews.org/topics/navigating-aging/ 32 32 161476233 I’m Moving Forward and Facing the Uncertainty of Aging https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/navigating-aging-columnist-retires-faces-uncertainty/ Wed, 15 Jan 2025 10:00:00 +0000 https://kffhealthnews.org/?post_type=article&p=1960724 It takes a lot of courage to grow old.

I’ve come to appreciate this after conversations with hundreds of older adults over the past eight years for nearly 200 “Navigating Aging” columns.

Time and again, people have described what it’s like to let go of certainties they once lived with and adjust to new circumstances.

These older adults’ lives are filled with change. They don’t know what the future holds except that the end is nearer than it’s ever been.

And yet, they find ways to adapt. To move forward. To find meaning in their lives. And I find myself resolving to follow this path as I ready myself for retirement.

Patricia Estess, 85, of the Brooklyn borough of New York City spoke eloquently about the unpredictability of later life when I reached out to her as I reported a series of columns on older adults who live alone, sometimes known as “solo agers.”

Estess had taken a course on solo aging. “You realize that other people are in the same boat as you are,” she said when I asked what she had learned. “We’re all dealing with uncertainty.”

Consider the questions that older adults — whether living with others or by themselves — deal with year in and out: Will my bones break? Will my thinking skills and memory endure? Will I be able to make it up the stairs of my home, where I’m trying to age in place?

Will beloved friends and family members remain an ongoing source of support? If not, who will be around to provide help when it’s needed?

Will I have enough money to support a long and healthy life, if that’s in the cards? Will community and government resources be available, if needed?

It takes courage to face these uncertainties and advance into the unknown with a measure of equanimity.

“It’s a question of attitude,” Estess told me. “I have honed an attitude of: ‘I am getting older. Things will happen. I will do what I can to plan in advance. I will be more careful. But I will deal with things as they come up.’”

For many people, becoming old alters their sense of identity. They feel like strangers to themselves. Their bodies and minds aren’t working as they used to. They don’t feel the sense of control they once felt.

That requires a different type of courage — the courage to embrace and accept their older selves.

Marna Clarke, a photographer, spent more than a dozen years documenting her changing body and her life with her partner as they grew older. Along the way, she learned to view aging with new eyes.

“Now, I think there’s a beauty that comes out of people when they accept who they are,” she told me in 2022 when she was 82, just before her 93-year-old husband died.

Arthur Kleinman, a Harvard professor who’s now 83, gained a deeper sense of soulfulness after caring for his beloved wife, who had dementia and eventually died, leaving him grief-stricken.

“We endure, we learn how to endure, how to keep going. We’re marked, we’re injured, we’re wounded. We’re changed, in my case for the better,” he told me when I interviewed him in 2019. He was referring to a newfound sense of vulnerability and empathy he gained as a caregiver.

Herbert Brown, 68, who lives in one of Chicago’s poorest neighborhoods, was philosophical when I met him at his apartment building’s annual barbecue in June.

“I was a very wild person in my youth. I’m surprised I’ve lived this long,” he said. “I never planned on being a senior. I thought I’d die before that happened.”

Truthfully, no one is ever prepared to grow old, including me. (I’m turning 70 in February.)

Chalk it up to denial or the limits of imagination. As May Sarton, a writer who thought deeply about aging, put it so well: Old age is “a foreign country with an unknown language.” I, along with all my similarly aged friends, are surprised we’ve arrived at this destination.

For me, 2025 is a turning point. I’m retiring after four decades as a journalist. Most of that time, I’ve written about our nation’s enormously complex health care system. For the past eight years, I’ve focused on the unprecedented growth of the older population — the most significant demographic trend of our time — and its many implications.

In some ways, I’m ready for the challenges that lie ahead. In many ways, I’m not.

The biggest unknown is what will happen to my vision. I have moderate macular degeneration in both eyes. Last year, I lost central vision in my right eye. How long will my left eye pick up the slack? What will happen when that eye deteriorates?

Like many people, I’m hoping scientific advances outpace the progression of my condition. But I’m not counting on it. Realistically, I have to plan for a future in which I might become partially blind.

It’ll take courage to deal with that.

Then, there’s the matter of my four-story Denver house, where I’ve lived for 33 years. Climbing the stairs has helped keep me in shape. But that won’t be possible if my vision becomes worse.

So my husband and I are taking a leap into the unknown. We’re renovating the house, installing an elevator, and inviting our son, daughter-in-law, and grandson to move in with us. Going intergenerational. Giving up privacy. In exchange, we hope our home will be full of mutual assistance and love.

There are no guarantees this will work. But we’re giving it a shot.

Without all the conversations I’ve had over all these years, I might not have been up for it. But I’ve come to see that “no guarantees” isn’t a reason to dig in my heels and resist change.

Thank you to everyone who has taken time to share your experiences and insights about aging. Thank you for your openness, honesty, and courage. These conversations will become even more important in the years ahead, as baby boomers like me make their way through their 70s, 80s, and beyond. May the conversations continue.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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LGBTQ+ People Relive Old Traumas as They Age on Their Own https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/lgbtq-aging-adults-going-it-alone-relive-trauma/ Tue, 24 Dec 2024 13:00:00 +0000 https://kffhealthnews.org/?post_type=article&p=1937169 Bill Hall, 71, has been fighting for his life for 38 years. These days, he’s feeling worn out.

Hall contracted HIV, the virus that can cause AIDS, in 1986. Since then, he’s battled depression, heart disease, diabetes, non-Hodgkin lymphoma, kidney cancer, and prostate cancer. This past year, Hall has been hospitalized five times with dangerous infections and life-threatening internal bleeding.

But that’s only part of what Hall, a gay man, has dealt with. Hall was born into the Tlingit tribe in a small fishing village in Alaska. He was separated from his family at age 9 and sent to a government boarding school. There, he told me, he endured years of bullying and sexual abuse that “killed my spirit.”

Because of the trauma, Hall said, he’s never been able to form an intimate relationship. He contracted HIV from anonymous sex at bath houses he used to visit. He lives alone in Seattle and has been on his own throughout his adult life.

“It’s really difficult to maintain a positive attitude when you’re going through so much,” said Hall, who works with Native American community organizations. “You become mentally exhausted.”

It’s a sentiment shared by many older LGBTQ+ adults — most of whom, like Hall, are trying to manage on their own.

Of the 3 million Americans over age 50 who identify as gay, bisexual, or transgender, about twice as many are single and living alone when compared with their heterosexual counterparts, according to the National Resource Center on LGBTQ+ Aging.

This slice of the older population is expanding rapidly. By 2030, the number of LGBTQ+ seniors is expected to double. Many won’t have partners and most won’t have children or grandchildren to help care for them, AARP research indicates.

They face a daunting array of problems, including higher-than-usual rates of anxiety and depression, chronic stress, disability, and chronic illnesses such as heart disease, according to numerous research studies. High rates of smoking, alcohol use, and drug use — all ways people try to cope with stress — contribute to poor health.

Keep in mind, this generation grew up at a time when every state outlawed same-sex relations and when the American Psychiatric Association identified homosexuality as a psychiatric disorder. Many were rejected by their families and their churches when they came out. Then, they endured the horrifying impact of the AIDS crisis.

“Dozens of people were dying every day,” Hall said. “Your life becomes going to support groups, going to visit friends in the hospital, going to funerals.”

It’s no wonder that LGBTQ+ seniors often withdraw socially and experience isolation more commonly than other older adults. “There was too much grief, too much anger, too much trauma — too many people were dying,” said Vincent Crisostomo, director of aging services for the San Francisco AIDS Foundation. “It was just too much to bear.”

In an AARP survey of 2,200 LGBTQ+ adults 45 or older this year, 48% said they felt isolated from others and 45% reported lacking companionship. Almost 80% reported being concerned about having adequate social support as they grow older.

Embracing aging isn’t easy for anyone, but it can be especially difficult for LGBTQ+ seniors who are long-term HIV survivors like Hall.

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Of 1.2 million people living with HIV in the United States, about half are over age 50. By 2030, that’s estimated to rise to 70%.

Christopher Christensen, 72, of Palm Springs, California, has been HIV-positive since May 1981 and is deeply involved with local organizations serving HIV survivors. “A lot of people living with HIV never thought they’d grow old — or planned for it — because they thought they would die quickly,” Christensen said.

Jeff Berry is executive director of the Reunion Project, an alliance of long-term HIV survivors. “Here people are who survived the AIDS epidemic, and all these years later their health issues are getting worse and they’re losing their peers again,” Berry said. “And it’s triggering this post-traumatic stress that’s been underlying for many, many years. Yes, it’s part of getting older. But it’s very, very hard.”

Being on their own, without people who understand how the past is informing current challenges, can magnify those difficulties.

“Not having access to supports and services that are both LGBTQ-friendly and age-friendly is a real hardship for many,” said Christina DaCosta, chief experience officer at SAGE, the nation’s largest and oldest organization for older LGBTQ+ adults.

Diedra Nottingham, a 74-year-old gay woman, lives alone in a one-bedroom apartment in Stonewall House, an LGBTQ+-friendly elder housing complex in New York City. “I just don’t trust people,“ she said. “And I don’t want to get hurt, either, by the way people attack gay people.”

When I first spoke to Nottingham in 2022, she described a post-traumatic-stress-type reaction to so many people dying of covid-19 and the fear of becoming infected. This was a common reaction among older people who are gay, bisexual, or transgender and who bear psychological scars from the AIDS epidemic.

Nottingham was kicked out of her house by her mother at age 14 and spent the next four years on the streets. The only sibling she talks with regularly lives across the country in Seattle. Four partners whom she’d remained close with died in short order in 1999 and 2000, and her last partner passed away in 2003.

When I talked to her in September, Nottingham said she was benefiting from weekly therapy sessions and time spent with a volunteer “friendly visitor” arranged by SAGE. Yet she acknowledged: “I don’t like being by myself all the time the way I am. I’m lonely.”

Donald Bell, a 74-year-old gay Black man who is co-chair of the Illinois Commission on LGBTQ Aging, lives alone in a studio apartment in subsidized LGBTQ+-friendly senior housing in Chicago. He spent 30 years caring for two elderly parents who had serious health issues, while he was also a single father, raising two sons he adopted from a niece.

Bell has very little money, he said, because he left work as a higher-education administrator to care for his parents. “The cost of health care bankrupted us,” he said. (According to SAGE, one-third of older LGBTQ+ adults live at or below 200% of the federal poverty level.) He has hypertension, diabetes, heart disease, and nerve damage in his feet. These days, he walks with a cane.

To his great regret, Bell told me, he’s never had a long-term relationship. But he has several good friends in his building and in the city.

“Of course I experience loneliness,” Bell said when we spoke in June. “But the fact that I am a Black man who has lived to 74, that I have not been destroyed, that I have the sanctity of my own life and my own person is a victory and something for which I am grateful.”

Now he wants to be a model to younger gay men and accept aging rather than feeling stuck in the past. “My past is over,” Bell said, “and I must move on.”

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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Watch: ‘Going It Alone’ — A Conversation About Growing Old in America https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/watch-going-it-alone-a-conversation-about-growing-old-in-america/ Thu, 12 Dec 2024 17:12:25 +0000 https://kffhealthnews.org/?post_type=article&p=1957628 KFF Health News’ “Navigating Aging” columnist, Judith Graham, spent six months this year talking to older adults who live alone by choice or by circumstance — most commonly, a spouse’s death. They shared their hopes and fears, challenges, and strategies for aging solo.

Graham moderated a live event on Dec. 11, hosted by KFF Health News and The John A. Hartford Foundation. She invited five seniors ranging in age from 71 to 102 and from across the country — from Seattle; Chicago; Asheville, North Carolina; New York City; and rural Maine — to talk candidly about the ways they are thriving at this stage of life. 

More than 16 million Americans are living alone while growing old, an unprecedented number. This slice of the older population has significant health issues: Nearly 4 in 10 people age 65 or older who live alone have vision or hearing loss, difficulty caring for themselves and living independently, problems with cognition, or other disabilities. People aging alone are also at higher risk of becoming isolated, depressed, and inactive; experiencing accidents; and neglecting to care for themselves.

A person who listened to the panel conversation observed: “I am struck by the seeming absence of fear, acceptance of the hands they have been dealt, and the lack of denial about this phase of life. Minimal time spent worrying. Full lives. Mostly comfortable with living alone. THIS dispels many myths about what living alone looks like.”

Read the stories here: https://kffhealthnews.org/news/tag/going-it-alone/

click here for the transcript Transcript: ‘Going It Alone’ — A Conversation About Growing Old in America

[Editor’s note: This transcript was generated using both transcription software and a human’s light touch. It has been edited for style and clarity.]

Judith Graham: Good morning, everyone. Thank you for joining us today. I’m Judy Graham, and I write the “Navigating Aging” column for Kaiser Health News, actually known as KFF Health News. I’m also the moderator for today’s event. We’re all in for treat: a conversation with five remarkable older adults about their lives and their experiences.

First, a few words of introduction. As many of you know, KFF is an independent organization that focuses on health policy research, polling, and news. It sponsors KFF Health News and partners with media organizations across the country. The Washington Post has been our partner for the series that is the subject of this webinar, “Going It Alone.” KFF Health News is committed to covering the greatest demographic trend of our time: the astonishing growth of the older population, now 60 million strong. And I’ve been privileged to be a part of that. For many years, The John A. Hartford Foundation, the co-sponsor of this event, has supported our aging coverage. I’ll let Rani Snyder, who oversees the Hartford Foundation’s grant-making to improve the care of older adults, tell you more. Rani, onto you.

Rani Snyder: Thank you so much, Judy. It’s great to be here. And thank you, especially Judy, for all of the work that you do for the “Navigating Aging” column, which is just terrific. Our foundation, The John A. Hartford Foundation, is really proud to support today’s event and KFF Health News and all that you do. I am Rani Snyder. I’m the vice president of program at The John A. Hartford Foundation. Our foundation is a nonpartisan national philanthropy with the mission to improve the care of older adults. We happen to reside in New York City, but we operate all across the country. And we work in three different areas: creating age-friendly health systems, supporting family caregivers, and improving serious illness and end-of-life care. And I really want to welcome our entire audience to today’s discussion about living alone while growing old. Our foundation invests pretty heavily in supporting family caregivers or older adults who are the backbone of care in this country.

And we also recognize, and even more so now, thanks to Judy’s excellent reporting, that millions of people don’t have a family member or a friend who are assisting them as they age and could potentially need care. So our foundation is working to make sure that all older adults, no matter where they live, no matter their background, no matter their family circumstances, have access to high-quality, age-friendly care that’s focused on what matters to all of us as we get older. So by funding programs that connect health systems, public health, and community-based services, and also by engaging when we can with policymakers and the public, our plan is to create systems of support and communities of connection that help people to age well as they’re aging alone. Speaking of aging well, right now we’re developing a new initiative to support social connection among older people, and we invite you to follow and engage with us at our website, which is johnahartford.org.

We’re really looking forward to this conversation today, actually. Our goal is not only to highlight challenges, but, honestly, to explore the resilience and the ingenuity of people who are aging solo. And that’s why I’m especially thankful to our panelists, five people who are featured in Judy’s series. We so appreciate your sharing your stories, and I would encourage everyone who is online on this webinar to engage with them and engage with Judy by asking questions and contributing to this discussion. So please carry this conversation forward to your networks and your communities. You also have the opportunity to shine a light on this topic that’s too often overlooked. So now let’s get started, and I want to hand it back to you, Judy, to introduce this fabulous panel.

Graham: Thanks so much. A little context before we get straight to it. The number of older adults living alone in the United States is truly unprecedented. In the past, there were fewer older people and they tended to live with family as they grew older. But with longer life spans, older people are outliving spouses; with increasing divorce rates, more people find themselves without partners as they age and with greater mobility. Even those with adult children find them far away and not part of their daily lives. How big is this group? We’re talking about more than 10 million older women and 6 million older men who live alone, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. Health issues are common in this group. Nearly 4 in 10 older adults who live on their own have vision or hearing problems, difficulty living independently, problems with cognition or other disabilities. Who’s around to help them or even notice when these older adults need assistance?

As Rani said, our health care system relies on spouses, partners, and adult children to be the backbone of our system of nonmedical care for seniors. What happens when there are no family members of this kind or they live at a distance? These are among the questions I’ve explored in my series “Going It Alone,” and I focused in this series on the real experts in this topic, older adults, who know better than anybody else what they live with. Today, you’ll hear from five of the older adults who appear in my series. As you can see, they live in different parts of the country, and they face different issues. We will talk for about an hour and then spend half an hour answering your questions. Please submit those via the chat function on your screen or the Q&A function. I’ll try to get to as many as I can.

This event is being recorded and will be accessible permanently afterward on YouTube, and we’ll of course link to it on the KFF Health News website. Now on to our panelists. I’ve asked them to introduce themselves before we dive into our discussion. Let’s start with Bill Hall in Seattle.

Bill, your sound is not working. Why don’t you try again and … OK, we’re going to go on to somebody else while you work with your sound. Let’s try Don Bell in Chicago.

Donald Bell: Good morning, everybody, and welcome to Chicago. My name is Donald Bell, and I am a resident of a unique senior residence, the Town Hall Apartments, which is Chicago’s first and the nation’s fourth LGBTQ+-friendly senior residence. Now, LGBTQ+-friendly does not mean LGBTQ+-exclusive. Our demographic breaks down by the following percentages: We have 30% of our neighbors are hetero-identified and 70% are LGBT-identified, but together we form one great community.

Graham: How old are you, Don? And do you live alone?

Bell: I’m 75.

Graham: OK, thank you.

Bell: Yes.

Graham: Hilda Jaffe of New York City. Why don’t you introduce yourself?

Hilda Jaffe: OK. Good morning — well, it is still morning everywhere, I guess — everyone. My name is Hilda Jaffe. I live in New York City, the crossroads of the world, and I live about one block away from Times Square, which is the crossroads of New York City. I am 102 years old, which astonishes me every day, I can tell you that. I have lived in New York City for the past 14 years. Before that, I had 60-some years in a house in New Jersey. After my husband died, I lived there for a short while and then moved into New York from an ordinary three-, four-bedroom house into a one-bedroom rental apartment in a high-rise building. I’m a widow, as I’ve mentioned. I have two children, my son in California, my daughter Tel Aviv, Israel.

I have five grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren who live in California, Philadelphia, Switzerland, and Israel. I’m in a centenarian study, and that is really an important part of what goes on in my life — to be a part of about 2,500 other people who are involved in this largest centenarian study in the world run out of New England. It’s called the New England Centenarian Study. And I do puzzles. Every day I do The New York Times crossword puzzle.

Graham: In ink, if I am correct.

Jaffe: Correct.

Graham: Ken Elliott, why don’t you go next?

Ken Elliott: OK, thank you, Judy. My name’s Ken Elliott. I live in Mount Vernon, Maine. I’m 78 years old. I’ve not ever been married nor had children, and I live alone. I think I’m the voice of a rural community here. My town is Mount Vernon. It’s 1,300 people. We do have an aging-in-place group, and I’m keenly interested and have been interested in the solution side of solo aging, and perhaps we’ll circle back to that later on in our discussion.

Graham: Great, thank you. Denise, tell us about yourself.

Denise Baker: Morning, everyone. I’m Denise Baker. I want to give you a few snippets about myself. I’m 81 years old. I live in a lovely house in Asheville, North Carolina, with my roommate, Yellow, the dog. I moved here 15 years ago after retiring from my job with the government in Washington, D.C. I have vascular and Alzheimer’s dementias and I have limited vision. I spend a lot of my time making pottery, which is my entry into the world. I have raised three daughters and a husband and am happily divorced for 35 years. My daughters live in Boston and Denver. I feel that I’m pretty self-sufficient. If I need help, I have neighbors and friends who are more than happy to pitch in. Sometimes too happy to pitch in. I like making my own decisions when I can. I’m a team member for Dementia Friendly Western North Carolina, and we do educational sessions for community groups who want to learn more about dementia. And that’s me in a nutshell.

Graham: Thank you, Denise. Now Bill, hopefully we’ve solved these sound problems.

Bill Hall: I hope so. Can you hear me?

Graham: Yes.

Hall: OK.

Graham: How about introducing yourself?

Hall: My name is Bill Hall. I am a Tlingit Indian from a small fishing village in Alaska called Hoonah. I am from the Raven Clan and I live in Seattle, Washington. I’ve been living with HIV and AIDS for 38 years now, and I live in a building that was built specifically for people living with HIV. It’s called Cal Anderson House. I am the community advocate for the Native American community here in Seattle on HIV, and I’m really happy to be part of this panel.

Graham: And how old are you, Bill?

Hall: I am 71.

Graham: Thank you. All right. Now that we’ve met all of you, it’s time to dive in. And Don, I think you’re going to go first. They say about raising children, it takes a village. I think that’s true for older adults too. Do you have a community of people you can rely on? Who’s part of that community?

Bell: Well, I do have a community of people on whom I can rely, starting with my church community, a very welcoming church, and that’s what we pride ourselves on. And, of course, I do have bio relationships too. I have two adult children and seven grandchildren. But it’s the friends and friends of long term who are really important because they’re people who go through the stages of life with you. And my long-term friends and I agree that rather than buying into the values of ageism that tell us that we are lesser as we grow older, we are leaning into the aging experience and claiming our years and our experience and enjoying that. We are not spending the remaining years of our lives just waiting to die. We are living them very actively and fully as we can.

Graham: Thank you, Don. Ken, I wanted to ask you the same question. Do you have a community that you can rely on in Mount Vernon?

Elliott: I’ll say 30%. I’ll try to be something of a realist in the group saying, “Not a very good one.” And that’s part of the paradox of living in the paradise, which is the Maine woods, is that your support systems tend to be few. So that it’s no coincidence that I’m interested in solutions, and I’m interested in the concept of do-it-yourself.

Graham: Bill, you’re a long-term HIV survivor and you have a lot of health issues. Can you tell us about the issues that you deal with and how you manage them on your own?

Hall: In the past year, I’ve dealt with back-to-back cancer — prostate cancer, and kidney cancer — and I’ve developed problems with walking. And I would say in the last 14 months, I’ve almost died six times. I’ve been in the hospital for internal bleeding, for extremely high blood sugars, and, along with that, I deal with HIV and AIDS, which brings up a lot of complications. I deal with diabetes, heart disease, and it’s been a rough two years for me because it seems like I’ve lived in the hospital every day. But you have to be adaptable, I’ve found, as I’ve learned from HIV. It’s that this is what you’re given, this is what you have to deal with, and you have to take what comes and deal with it as it comes. And I think it’s that adaptability that I have that I’m still here today.

Graham: That’s a lot to deal with on your own. Who helps you out when you need help?

Hall: Well, I’ve been alone all my life, and there’s a long story behind that, but I won’t get into it. And so I have a neighbor that is in the building. He helps when I need to be escorted from a test or that requires somebody pick me up, he does that. He brings me soup every once in a while. Always calling to check in on me. And I have another friend who gives me a ride to medical appointments. And so it’s a blessing to have them in my life because living alone with all these diseases is really hard, especially at night when the fears all come to you. And so I have a great medical team, and so I am, in every sense of the word, very well taken care of.

Graham: Thank you, Bill. I’m struck by what you said, which I’ve heard from so many older adults, which is you have to deal with the hand that you’re dealt and the need for adaptability, dealing with the problems that arise that come up. Now, Denise, you told us you have vascular dementia and Alzheimer’s, and I believe you’re the survivor of a stroke, and you have eye issues. How do you deal with all of that while living alone? How have you made things work for yourself?

Baker: I love living alone. I couldn’t do it without my dog. We talk. She doesn’t argue with me. Life is great. I think for most of us who live alone and are making a good job of it, I think a lot of it is attitude. If you think that everything’s going to be OK, you’re going to come a lot closer to that than if you think, “Oh, poor me. What’s going to happen to me?” I was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s about 14 years ago. I’m sorry, with vascular dementia, which it’s not unusual for vascular dementia to come years after having a stroke. But five years after the vascular dementia diagnosis, I was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I was used to having dementia, so the Alzheimer’s diagnosis didn’t really sink me, but it did make me more serious about my dementias, and I started taking a lot better care of myself, and I’m doing well. My memory is good. I get confused from time to time, but then don’t we all, and I’m happy. Things are going well for me.

Graham: Follow-up question. What helps you manage on your own? What kind of arrangements have you made to make your life possible while dealing with this on your own?

Baker: Well, I live in my own house, so I make all the decisions that I want to make. If I need help, if I’m confused about something, I’ve got friends and family and neighbors who are more than happy to help me. As far as long-term, I have long-term care insurance that, when the time comes, it will pay for someone to come into my house and help me out on a day-by-day basis. So I’m not concerned about having to go to a nursing home or something.

Graham: Thank you so much.

Graham: Hilda, when we spent time together, you told me that everyone you know, including your doctors, say there’s nobody like you at 102. How does it feel living by yourself at 102 years of age?

Jaffe: Well, it doesn’t feel any different today than it did yesterday or a year ago. So it isn’t really age that’s there, it is the surroundings and the circumstances. I often point out to people that there was a difference before covid and after covid. Before covid, life just went on from day to day and you kept doing the same things that you were doing before, and then you suddenly were stopped. You were paused in that. And life, if you were healthy, you continued to live, but the opportunities and the openness was not available to you.

But after two and three years, when things came back to supposedly normal, then it was time to make some decisions about whether the things you were doing before were what you wanted to continue doing again. What was important to put your time about? And so, I used to go to the theater a lot. My hearing deteriorated. I just stopped going to the theater. That is not something I enjoy anymore, but I can still enjoy music.

And so I go to opera and symphony and chamber music so that I can continue to be with people. And I do that with other people so that I have somebody to talk to. So it’s a question of every day accommodating. I travel. Public transportation within central New York City certainly is fantastic. And so I travel by bus. I don’t take the subway anymore, it’s not necessary. I take buses; if necessary, a taxi. But buses satisfy me and that’s how I get to doctors, that’s how I get to the opera.

But what I do, and this brings me among people, and Judy even participated. I volunteer at the New York Public Library, which is the main branch at 42nd and Fifth Avenue. and I’m a docent for their exhibits. And I give a one-hour tour about five or six times a month. So that gives me something to do, something to be among people … people to talk with, to have to do some research and come up as they make changes in the exhibit. I have to do research about new things that they’re putting in.

So there is enough to do. Read the paper every day, do my crossword puzzles, be on FaceTime and WhatsApp with my far-flung family and all of my eight great-grandchildren. The youngest is 2 years-old, the oldest is 13. They know me as “Gma,” which is short for great-grandma. And they know me on screen, so to some of them I’m a face and to some they visit and know me in person. But as I said, today it’s just another day.

Graham: A couple of things stand out, what people who are older adults who are living alone do to be among people and the importance of location in terms of providing opportunities for that. Ken, I wanted to get back to you. When you and I first spoke months ago, you told me that “solo agers,” when you began to be interested in this issue, weren’t on the radar screen in Maine. Can you talk about how you became aware that it wasn’t just you, it was a broader issue? And what kind of reception you met when you began to take this issue forward in Maine?

Elliott: Thanks for the question. It’s a helpful one, Judy, and certainly getting informed. I want to express my gratitude to you for the articles that you have written. They’re brilliant, they’re really good. I wish I’d written them myself. But to answer your question about what I have found as far as receptiveness in Maine. One of the things that keeps me going is, I don’t believe, and I can always be wrong or a new one can be established, but I don’t believe there is a study group or an advocacy group specifically for solo agers in the state of Maine.

And I have asked everywhere from adult services to the universities where I used to work and to others who are interested in studying gerontology. So that surprised me. And so what I found is that when people hear the term and become better informed, there’s small movement in the direction of, “OK, what are we going to do with this?” And one has to have a great deal of patience, but I think it’s possible, No. 1, to establish such an advocacy or study group. And No. 2, to have some very achievable goals, like, again, in the state’s aging plan.

I’d love somebody to do a survey on statewide aging plans and see how many of them actually identify solo agers as a significant group. So it’s milestones like that that keep me interested as well as the fact that the awareness is changing even as the age wave swells up, as it were, and one can confidently predict that this will be an important dynamic for us all. I really do believe that.

Graham: Now Hilda talked about making her way among other people, what brings her outside into the world. What does that consist of for you, Ken?

Elliott: Well, first of all, as I’ve mentioned, I tend to be a fairly introverted, solitary type to start with. Two, I have a work history for many years being a psychologist and working intimately with people in psychotherapy and so forth. And three, I’m not as patient as I used to be as far as people spending their time wisely. So that’s why solutions are far more fascinating to me than elaborating on the exploration of problems because something fruitful can come of it. I’m not sure if I’m still on target with your question, Judy, so …

Graham: That’s all right. I appreciate your thoughts. I’m going to switch to Don. Like Hilda, you live in a major urban area, Chicago, my hometown. What brings you in contact with people? And this is a two-part question. I guess that’s the first part and then I’ll give you the second part after you answer. And do you make that a priority?

Bell: Absolutely, I do. Social isolation is the No. 1 issue for all generations, but specifically for the aging generation. And our survival is based upon the fact that we have an anthropological need to be associated with one another. We experience in our aging group the same thing that mirrors what happens to a newborn who isn’t touched, who isn’t interacted or whatever, they can be medically viable, but they pass away from failure to thrive because of lack of contact. That happens to us.

So when I deal with the issue of being alone, there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. And so as it happened in my life path, I was not partnered. So I am alone, but I’m not by myself. And that’s because of intentionality. I make it my priority to interact with the world and to associate with other people because I need them.

Graham: Can you give us some examples of how you do that?

Bell: Yes. I do benefit from some of the privileges of living in a large urban area. There’s a digital divide that exists between urban areas and rural and ex-urban areas, like Ken’s place. So we can be digitally connected and that’s important in this age. I’m a part of a group called The Village Chicago, and it’s part of a National group called The Village to Village Movement.

And what we do is, we have virtually created a community that brings us together, and we are committed to having programs that give us activities, making connections. And we have basically made a commitment that we are going to see each other through this third act of life. And that calls for dealing with one’s mortality. When you age, you got to deal with that. As far as I know, there’s no way that we get out of here other than through death.

But as we get older, we even look at death differently. And when we’re dealing with our mortality, we recognize that that’s a normal part of life and accept that. But on the meantime, we have one other decision to make, and that is whether we’re sitting around waiting for death or we’re going to live actively until we die. And I vote for that. So death’s going to have to catch me on the run, not in avoidance, but just because I’ll be engaged until I’m unengaged.

Graham: That’s so interesting. Thank you for that, Don. Bill, I wanted to shift over to you. So some of the issues that we’re talking about for you, HIV/AIDS. I know you are an advocate in the Native American community. And the question is how open is that community to hearing about your experiences of living with HIV/AIDS as an older person, living alone, and offering community support and assistance?

Hall: It’s a difficult journey because the stigma in the Native American community on HIV and AIDS is quite strong. And so I’ve tried to figure out why stigma is so strong. But I decided that I’m not going to find that answer, so I just need to keep getting my message out and hopefully one person will hear it. And so it’s just an ongoing process. It’s been a long process, and you just have to keep going because if you give up then nobody will hear your message.

Graham: So Don talked about social isolation and loneliness. Does stigma associated with HIV, has that impacted you personally in terms of being socially isolated and/or lonely?

Hall: It did in the early days of HIV, when HIV was first identified and nobody knew how it was spread. There was a lot of fear and there was also a lot of … we’ve all heard the stories about Ryan White being burned out of his house. And I’ve seen myself several people attacked because they were HIV over the years. And so there was great fear.

And what that did was it shoved us back into the closet and we hid our HIV ferociously. But so much has changed now that AIDS is 40 years old, that fear is gone. And when I stepped up to be an advocate for the Native community, I decided that every time I speak, I’m going to tell them I’ve been living with HIV and AIDS for 38 years.

Graham: Let’s stay on the subject for a moment of loneliness and social isolation. I’m going to open it up and ask, not direct the question to any one of you, in particular, but all of you. And you can raise your hand if you want to answer. A lot of people assume that if you live alone as an older adult, you’re isolated and you’re lonely. Is that true for you? Who’d like to answer? Denise?

Baker: I have all kinds of people around me. My dog walks me about an hour a day and I meet lots of neighbors. And we stand for a few minutes and talk about the day or the weather or what’s going to happen to western North Carolina next. I belong to a couple of wonderful groups. I’m a member of a co-op gallery in the River Arts District, and we get together at least once a month. And here recently, we’ve been doing what we can to help the artists in the River Arts District who have been displaced by the hurricane. And that’s been a wonderful connection.

Despite all the devastation around us, there is a tremendous sense of community and helping each other out that have come from this disaster, and we’re all hoping that it lasts. I’m also a member of the Dementia Friendly Western North Carolina steering team, which I mentioned. And we do a lot of work with the community in outreach and helping people understand that dementia is not a curse. It’s something that happens to a lot of us as we grow older. And these groups give me purpose. They’re very uplifting for me and they make me feel good about myself and my life and everyone around me.

Graham: Thank you, Denise. To Hilda?

Jaffe: Yeah. There are a lot of opportunities for people who live alone. Zoom classes and book clubs and telephone classes, and I’m on with a number of them. Organizations, museums, my synagogue, and I’m active on an adult education committee in my synagogue. So some of that happens on Zoom. You don’t have to be physically present. And some of these Zoom classes, people identify where they live and they live all over the country, although they are on with the Museum of Natural History in New York City. So there is always, on any week, I have a class of some kind on Zoom or telephone. So it’s possible to find things.

Graham: I think that addresses social isolation. What about loneliness, Hilda? Is that a piece of your life?

Jaffe: It is not a problem with me because the day goes pretty quickly and there are always things to do or something in my calendar that reminds me that I have a class or somebody will call me. My daughter will call me from Israel and say, “Do you want to do five minutes on WhatsApp in the playground with a 4-year-old?” Let me tell you, that picks up your day. It really does. Watching the 4-year-old go down the slide. But these are very short, but they’re pickups. And so I know that there are people out there thinking of me. That, I think, is what is helpful and wondering how I …

Graham: And that’s something for our audience, knowing that there are people out there who are thinking of you. Don, you live in a building in Chicago where most of the — I’ve actually visited when I was there in June — most of the older adults who live in that building live alone. Have you formed connections among yourselves?

Bell: Yeah, we have. But I think that the questions that we are dealing with about aging alone go beyond what we actually do. So I think that amongst us, we’ve offered a broad variety of things that we do, but I think we also have to deal with the issues of what we think and how we feel. And when I had to confront, in looking over the course of my lifetime, what I felt about going through it alone, meaning unpartnered. And a couple of years ago, I just had to face it because it had been an issue my entire life.

And what I had to do was to come to not only accept my aloneness, but to be able to function in it. And that called for me having to deal with two major issues. One was, I had to deal with the yearning that I’d had for decades for having someone in my life, someone to claim me, someone to come for me. And that hadn’t happened. And what did I feel about that? And the other issue that I had to deal with was the issue of self-criticism because I was alone.

What was wrong with me? Was I not attractive enough? Did I lack the attractive gene? Did I make people not want to be associated with me? It’s something in me that is the reason why I’m alone. And you have to deal with how you feel about those things. And when you get to that, then you can embrace the reality of what your life is. And if your life happens to be one where you’re going through it alone, you still are challenged to live your best life, to seek your best life.

Graham: What helped you deal with those very difficult and challenging feelings, Don?

Bell: Well, what helped me deal with them personally and, again, it’s a personal thing. There’s no cookie-cutter cookbook-type solution to this. But for me, what helped me deal with it was to really investigate how I felt about how I was spending my life.

The things that I was doing and the things that I was giving back and the connections that I had that I may not have been conscious of. But even though I’m a person who’s very highly engaged in a lot of civic involvement and that sort of stuff, I still came back to my apartment on Friday night. Nothing had been moved, nothing has changed. It was empty, except for me. So just have to deal with those things.

Graham: Does anybody else want to chip in on this subject before we move on to the topic I know Ken is very interested in and it’s solutions about dealing personally with the feelings of growing older and the feelings of being alone.

Hall: Well, I think that Don and I have so much in common. I can almost say, “Ditto.” And somebody mentioned earlier that there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. And I had to learn. I’ve been alone all my life, as I mentioned. I’ve never had a partner. Being involved in the community is really what keeps me going, but I still come home to an empty apartment at night. The human body’s an amazing vessel. I’ve gotten used to that, but there are times when it still hurts that I’ve never known what it’s like to have a partner. So it’s just one of those things that you’re given, and like Don, I had to adapt to it.

Graham: Anybody else want to chip in? All right. A lot of the questions that are coming in have to do with solutions. So I am going to ask one more round of questions of everybody before we get there, which is, do you think about the future? And how are you planning for it, as someone who’s older and who is likely going to continue to be alone as you grow older? Who would like to address that? Hilda.

Jaffe: OK. And I think I have to think about that a great deal. And so there are several things that I have done, and that is that I share and update all of my financial and passwords with my son and with one other person so that there are people ready to step in at a moment’s notice if necessary. Let me tell you, passwords are important to share and update, and few know they really are.

And also, and this came about because of being in this centenarian study. And I was asked as part of it if I would donate my brain, funny as it sounds. And I agreed, because I think that’s a great idea, and my family thought that was a great idea. And so, because of that, I had to do a prepaid funeral. That’s all taken care of, and so no one has to think about that on very short notice, which I think is helpful. So that’s part of it.

And another is declutter. When I moved out of my house in New Jersey, where I lived for 60 some years, I had a huge accumulation. But to move into a one-bedroom apartment, I got rid of almost everything. And even more, after I moved in when I discovered after a year of living in New York what I needed and what I didn’t need, and then more stuff went out. So I really am a minimalist, and makes life much easier for me because I don’t have to think about all the things, and I know that whoever cleans out will have less to do.

Graham: Anyone else want to talk about how you’re preparing for your future? Denise.

Baker: So there are over 400 kinds of dementia. Most of them are disabilities, but Alzheimer’s and vascular dementia are diseases and people die from those. And I know that I might die from Alzheimer’s in a few years. On the other hand, I might get hit by a bus down on Main Street in Asheville next week. I see no reason to worry about what might come, and that takes a big load off. I’ve got my end-of-life set up, so I don’t have to be concerned about that. And I’m just living life like most people and enjoying it and not worrying.

Graham: Ken, what about you?

Elliott: Well, I want to put a plug in for humor.

Graham: Great.

Elliott: I find that to be a really fine practice. And frankly, if I had my first wish, I’d go to clown school. And I say that because humor is such a wonderful gift to everybody, people around you as well as yourself, if it’s not cruel. So that’s one point. I think the other point is to realize that everything tends to require a balance, and thinking about the future, as I think Hilda mentioned, can be an escape from living fully in the present. So I think that caution is worth saying twice.

And the other thing, I think everyone here hasn’t said it, but it’s clearly true, is to stay active in whatever form. And I just want to put a little plug in for meditation. I’ve been a meditator associated with the Buddhist Center for 30 years. It’s been enormously helpful to myself, and I suspect other solo-prone people. Get me started and I’ll talk far too long, so I’ll stop there.

Graham: I think you had told me, and this is one of the big issues for older adults living alone, finding people to be decision-makers for them. You had mentioned that that was an issue that you were addressing, Ken, and I was wondering if there’s an update on that.

Elliott: Let me be concise, but I want to address it, which is to say, I think the normal routine of going through the, I think of it as a stage, of developing your end-of-life papers and getting your proxy for this and proxy for that in order with the aid of a competent lawyer, that’s all fine and well. But I think probably of far greater importance is what people here have been alluding to, which is surrounding yourself with what I call a care team.

And if it’s family, God bless them. It’s a wonderful thing. If it’s not, the question of what alternatives are there is really a systemic question. I don’t think it’s just an inde … People often ask me, “Well, aren’t your friends going to come and help you out?” Or, “Isn’t your family going to help you out?” And my family’s 3,000 miles away and so forth. So it’s not an easy solution, but it’s an important question, which is to say the building of what I call a care team. And planning, I think, can be a real rabbit hole if one doesn’t balance it with the cultivation of a care team.

Graham: So is that something you’re actively doing?

Elliott: Yes, but I think it will take me years to do it, life permitting. But slowly. I’ve been, for example, part of Neighbors Driving Neighbors, I’ve been part of Aging in Place. I’ve been part of innumerable kinds of committees, which are not my favorite thing to spend my time with, but it is a way of building networks.

And I’m glad that someone mentioned the issue of technology because when I think of do-it-yourself, I hunger for a group that will really focus that domain on the needs of do-it-yourselfers who are aging. I think that’s really, it’s remarkable how uncultivated that seems to be. So I’m still looking.

Graham: This idea came up in my reporting over and over and over again. You call it a care team. Just having a team of people who support you. And it can be family, if you got family. It can be friends. For Don, it sounds like your team, your friends, longtime Chicago friends are part of your essential team. Who’s on your team? And if you’re missing people on the team, how do you find them, is a really big question. Anybody have thoughts about that before we move on to some of the questions that have come in from the audience?

Bell: My thought about that is simply this. Living in the digital age as we do now, what we’re risking is the loss of anthropologically developed human skills. We say that people aren’t as nice as they were to one another. They don’t see each other, they bump into each other. It’s because we have used our digital developments to displace rather than to enhance our anthropological development.

And so people don’t know how to look at one another. They don’t know how to engage using all of their senses, all of their skills. No touch, no feel, no smell, nobody’s looking at one another, that kind of thing. And that means that we are then not connected the way that human beings have always anthropologically connected.

My issue in aging is simply this: I engage in my legacy. I try to de-silo aging because we’re all aging. It all goes in one direction. So it is incumbent upon me to use my lived experience to pass it on to those who are younger than I am, hopefully to their benefit. But they certainly can accept and not accept any of it that they want. But I don’t want them to have to reinvent the wheels that we’ve all invented during our time. And I want them to recognize, as we have come to recognize, that there are shoulders upon which we stand that go back eons. And we don’t want that lost in this age where people are not connected.

Graham: Ken?

Hall: I think that it’s important to mention that the statistics you started with, so many of those, me included, live in poverty. We don’t have the luxury of planning a funeral and everything like that. I think that’s something I had to let go because I had no control over that. But for so many, we’re in the same boat. We’re at the mercy of the state when we pass on.

Graham: Ken, you had your hand up, but then I want to get back to what you said, Bill, in just a second.

Elliott: Just a quick comment, and that is I have a huge appreciation of slowness. I think that slowness, as Don said, allows the senses to wake up and allows the relationships to grow and so forth. That’s a big part of my practice as a solo ager.

Graham: Living slowly?

Elliott: Yeah. There’s a slow movement actually, and you can learn a lot about that. It started with food, of course, but it’s well worth taking seriously. It’s more than just a sort of a fad kind of thing, I think.

Graham: So one of the questions that came in, and it’s really an important question that came up in the comment section to The Washington Post article on Hilda, is navigating the financial needs of aging. So many people commented that Hilda was fortunate that she was able to live in New York City, afford the rent in New York City, afford to go to museums, afford to go to concerts. And so the first question is from the audience. How are you navigating the financial needs in aging and how do finances affect your community involvement? Bill, let’s start with you because you mentioned being in poverty, but why don’t you talk about your own financial circumstances and how that affects you as a solo senior?

Hall: Well, I am one of those people that live on Social Security. Fortunately, I do do some work as a consultant that brings me extra income, but it’s really the economy today with the price of food. I used to spend $30 a week on food pre-pandemic. I now spend $70 a week. And if it wasn’t for my consulting work, I wouldn’t be able to do that.

And so we have so much that is working against us, the economy and the high rental costs. If I could, I would go out and get a job. But I have it in the back of my mind that, “Who’s going to hire a 71-year-old?” And so it’s been another thing that you have to adapt to, and I think you have to develop a sense of gratitude. “OK, I can’t get that steak, but I can get that chicken.” It’s all adaptability.

Graham: Don, I know this is an issue for you as well, and it plays into your experience caring for your parents. Why don’t you talk about your situation?

Bell: Well, sure. I think that, first of all, no issue, no social demographic issue is isolated by itself. They’re all intersectional. And the intersections of mine, of course, include race and class and sexual orientation and gender identity and that sort of thing. My own personal background, I’m a retired academic. And I had the experience of 30 years of sandwich experience of taking care of both my parents in serial illnesses and raising my two children at the same time.

So what happened was I had to take a separation allocation from my state university pension because we had to live. That was money for the future, but we had to live in the present, and so like millions of people across the country went through all of our assets. Luckily, I worked at a time when one could pay into Social Security and into a retirement plan, but that ended very early in my career. So I live today on a partial Social Security allocation. I don’t even get a full one, I get a partial one.

But as a result, I live in subsidized housing. I have subsidy for food and things like this, and I have Medicare and Medicaid and that sort of stuff. I’m blessed to have the things that I have because all of those things are not in place for everybody universally across the country. So I was blessed to end up where I am, but it is a constant challenge for people to live in the present, particularly people who are aging or have any other socially marginalized demographics.

And I also like to take this opportunity to very gently suggest that the philanthropic and corporate interests that sponsor this program, when you’re planning for this kind of thing, think about honoraria for your participants because lived experience does not come free. And yet we’ve developed a lot of consultants, a lot of specialists on our lived experience, but we kind of need some too. So that’s the reality of financial issues at this time. For most of us, it’s day to day, paycheck to paycheck, allocation to allocation. It’s tough.

Graham: Thank you, Don. Ken.

Elliott: I just have to give a shout-out to blue zones. I imagine a lot of you have heard about them, but these are communities both in North America and elsewhere where it seems like longevity is part of the culture, and the issue of cost is, it’s not based on the same model that we have here. I think it’s perhaps the downside of our fascination with individualism that… There may be different models, and I urge people to enjoy reading about them because they’re inspiring.

Graham: Hilda, before we move on to the next question …

Jaffe: Yes.

Graham: … which is an important one, you read through all the comments on your article, you saw all the financial issues. Do you have anything to say about that side of living alone while aging?

Jaffe: Well, no, because the comments, most of them were from people who are certainly not living comfortably, and so I was very much aware of that. And the fact that there was nothing in Judy’s article that spoke to that at all, so that everybody was speculating about me. But you know, I do live comfortably, there’s no question about it. And it is a result of work I did over the course of my life as an educator and my husband as a scientist. And living in a house and selling a house and having money to invest, and the fact that I rent an apartment in New York and that I don’t own it, so that’s not an investment.

So yeah, you know, I don’t feel guilty about the fact that I am comfortable, but I’m frugal. I am frugal. See, that’s the point, and that’s the whole idea of this that I mentioned. Uncluttered. I don’t need things, and so I don’t acquire things, and I don’t go Amazon and things like that. I only replace what I get rid of. And given the limited social life, I don’t need fancy clothes. I have enough clothes that I moved with 14 years ago. And so it is possible to be comfortable, but it is also possible to be frugal.

Graham: And there’s a sharp divide between the haves and have-nots.

Jaffe: Absolutely.

Graham: That we all know.

Jaffe: And I’m very much aware of it, and I carry money with me for street people all the time. And there are street people in New York everywhere. And so …

Graham: And many of them older.

Jaffe: And many of them older, right.

Graham: I’m going to move on to the next question, which is, what is the best way that we in the community can support seniors living alone? Ken, let’s start with you. What should we be doing?

Elliott: I’ll make it brief. Make solo aging a household word. And if that means letting representatives know about it or letting social service… Even social service agencies rarely use that term or know of that concept, even despite of the statistics that you’ve assembled, Judy, which to me are quite daunting. It hasn’t worked its way into the verbal culture yet, and hence it hasn’t trickled down into the policy culture and moving of financial resources and so forth. All of that’s possible when the word really becomes embedded. It’s sort of like, “What is my name?” And the idea of embracing who you are and all of those identity politics kinds of things, they’re part of the evolution, I think, of solo aging.

Graham: But then once it becomes part of the vernacular, what next? What can be done to actually help people more effectively? Do you have thoughts about that?

Elliott: Sure. The first question is time frame. Hilda was talking about certainly being generous. And that’s a personal practice and decision that can start right away. And I think that we’re right at the holidays now, it’s a great time to be mindful of that. So, starting there, I think, but beyond that, I think a lot of professionals in social services as well as policymakers are of a mindset that predates the emergence of solo aging.

Graham: All right, I’m going to go around. Other people’s thoughts about the best ways that organizations, policymakers can support older adults who are living by themselves, aging solo. Who wants to jump in?

Bell: I’ll jump in. This is my request. That first of all, people do not confuse growing older with growing lesser in value or ability. In terms of ability, don’t confuse my ability with my capacity. Thirdly, let’s de-silo the aging experience. We’re all in it together. And finally, when you’re dealing with us, deal with us, make decisions with us, not for us. Don’t infantilize us. Don’t devalue our lived experience and help us do at our time what you’ll have to do at your time when you are older, and that is to fight to own your life all the way through the end of it.

Graham: Anybody else want to pitch in? I have a couple of other questions I want to get to. We have about four minutes left. All right. Here’s another one. If you could have any form of help you wanted, what would that be? Any thoughts?

Bell: Just to work in tandem with me to do things that we agreed to do together. Anyone who wants to be with me is a partner, and if we’re partners, we share in decision-making about what we will do together.

Graham: Bill, it looks like you might have thoughts. Any form of help that you wanted. What would come first for you?

Hall: Who did you ask?

Graham: You.

Hall: Oh, oh. Sorry. If I could have any form of help, I think it would be help with cleaning and shopping. I can do those things, but it takes time. I can do one thing, like clean the kitchen one day, and I wait two days before I’ll do the dusting and stuff like that. In the immediate, it would be help with cleaning and shopping.

Graham: By the way, I got the time wrong. I said it was four more minutes, but we have, in fact, more than 15 minutes left, so we have plenty of time. Denise, I’m interested in your thoughts, and I know you’ve already arranged a lot of help for yourself, but let’s start with, if you could have any form of help you need, what would it be?

Baker: It would be technical help. Obviously, I’m really stupid when it comes to the internet and Zoom and technology. And I think part of that is my age and part of it is the confusion that I get from dementia. But I can be shown how to do something and I will not remember it or I’ll get confused with it. And if there was a group of people to help older adults with technology, boy, I’d sign up to be helped right away.

Graham: There are groups of that kind, by the way, but people don’t know about them.

Jaffe: Yes.

Graham: Hilda.

Baker: How do I find out about them?

Jaffe: Well, they may be available. My synagogue has offered teenagers to come to your house and help you with your technology.

Baker: Those would be extra.

Jaffe: There are community organizations, the public library in my New Jersey town, because I still get information from there. They have, the public library has a squad of, and they’re always teenagers because that’s what they love to do.

Baker: Yeah.

Jaffe: And they will help you. That kind of help is, technical help, is out there somewhere.

Baker: That’s great. Hilda, thanks. I’ll check into that.

Graham: And Denise, I have some resources I can send to you, but the need for these kinds of services is enormous. And you may have seen The New York Times. My friend and former colleague, Paula Span of “The New Old Age” wrote last week about how the new digital payment systems are leaving a lot of older adults behind if they’re not comfortable with technology. And there are places you go now where you can’t even use cash, but what if you have limited vision? What if you don’t know how to upload those apps on your cellphone? It’s a real issue. Ken.

Elliott: Well, let me just underline the point, too, that often when we start thinking about what we can do better, we generalize to all older people. And I want to put a pitch in for keeping visible solo agers because I don’t think … You know where I’m heading on this. I don’t think that all elders have the same needs, and I think that we solo agers have some rather distinctive characteristics that, by and large, are overlooked in that people want to sort of help generically the elderly, but they’ve never heard of solo aging.

Graham: Do you want to elaborate which characteristics you would want people to keep in focus?

Elliott: That takes some work, but let me work on it.

Graham: OK.

Elliott: The first I think is the do-it-yourselfer characteristic. I think that we, as a group, one of our strengths is we’re rather independent-minded, and pride means something to us, and hence if the system doesn’t reflect our distinctive characteristics, we don’t know what door to, at least that’s my own experience, what door to knock on. That’s a characteristic, is that sort of independent-mindedness. I think the other two is that you’ve assembled some rather articulate people here, myself excluded, but I don’t know that we represent what is modal or even normal about solo agers. And again, your statistics, I think point to that in a vivid kind of way. I think there’s a lot of diversity among solo agers, and yet what we all have in common is the fact of having to, it’s a wonderful Maine term, having to make do with essentially, what we can see and know. And that’s very limited when you are as isolated as at least I am and others are as well.

Graham: I think the point that you raise, Ken, is so essential, which is the group here is by definition able to use technology, articulate, willing to come forward, able to come forward. In reporting my series, there are millions of people who are older, who are by themselves, who do not come forward, who do not know what door to knock upon, who are economically disadvantaged, who have significant health issues. And their doctors may or may not be aware. Other people may or may not be aware, and they are not represented on this panel, but we should not forget the fact that a large segment of this population is vulnerable. And I’m very glad you brought that up, Ken.

Another question came in, and I think this has to do with the issue of care teams, but it’s a very interesting question, which is, have any of you, and I’m interested in hearing from as many of you as possible, had to reassess the quality of the relationships around you as you’ve grown older on your own? And I’ll elaborate. Do you find it necessary to audit your inner circle and have a very serious conversation with yourself about the relationship value of those around you? It’s an interesting question. Does anybody want to jump in?

Elliott: Well, the easy answer is yes.

Graham: All right. More.

Elliott: Well, as one’s capacities and energies dwindle and one’s social attractiveness diminishes, one is, at least speaking for myself, is constantly auditing and trying to optimize one’s network, as it were.

Graham: So give an example of that, perhaps without naming names.

Elliott: OK. In my small town in Maine, I joined the Aging in Place group. It was one of the most miserable experiences I’ve had, and not by virtue of intention, but just by virtue of disconnection. Whereas, people just simply were not sensitized, I think, certainly not to the needs of solo agers that I was aware of.

Graham: How did that lack of sensitivity manifest itself?

Elliott: I think people do what they’re familiar with and, for example, the Aging in Place group, well, let’s have a dinner, and let’s make food for people, and let’s put sand out so that when the ice comes, and all those kinds of wonderful things, but those are first-of-mind things. And I think some training to the Aging in Place group or some broadening of those perspectives, getting away from the stereotypes of what we elders do in fact need. Just to be, and you know that I can be much too critical, but I will say that for the longest time, I noticed that the Aging in Place group talked about them, when we were all of that age. Remember that Maine is one of the oldest states in the union. Those kinds of, I don’t know, skill-building needs are readily apparent.

Graham: Anybody else want to chip in on this issue of auditing the quality of relationships and having difficult conversations, if need be, with relationships that may not be quite what you are hoping for. Bill?

Hall: Yes. I had to cut ties with my family after years of battles. Arguments that we were arguing about 30 years ago were still being argued about today. It really became an effort trying to keep them in my life. And I had to reach a point where I thought, it’s never going to happen. And so, I had to let my family go because I was dealing with more things that were serious to me, my health issues. People who don’t have HIV don’t realize that once you develop HIV, it takes your whole life. Constant labs, constant doctor visits, constant specialist visits, and dealing with things that come your way like cancer, like internal bleeding. It’s just constantly ongoing. And long-term survivors, I can see why they isolate because they’re mentally and emotionally exhausted. And I was fortunate enough to have one friend that I was talking to about it and she said, “But look, you’ve built a whole new family around you, all the groups you’re involved with.” And that was an eye-opener, and it made me appreciate the people that I do have in my life now.

Graham: This issue of families of choice, I’ve heard applied to, it comes out of the LGBTQ community, but it very much applies to, I think, older solo agers as well, developing families of choice. If your birth families are not there for you or you never developed your own family. Don, I see you nodding. Your thoughts?

Bell: Yes, you’re spot-on. You’re spot-on. And yes, we continue into our aging years what we started in our primary years. Doggone it, you didn’t hang on to everybody in kindergarten, and when you went to first grade, there were some you wanted to take with you and some you didn’t. We do that all the time, and it happens at this stage, too. And I want to quickly add to Ken’s point about solo aging. I think there needs to be a distinction between those of us who are solo agers by choice, and those of us who are solo agers by circumstance.

Graham: Right. I think I’ve seen that distinction in all of the literature. Denise or Hilda, have you found yourself auditing your relationships and perhaps letting go of some relationships that were no longer serving you?

Jaffe: Yes, absolutely. Very quickly. I’m down to a very few people with whom I, aside from family, and family has been great and supportive around the world, but yes, there are very few … First of all, there are very few of my contemporaries left, so one by one they’re gone. But yes, I do have some telephone relationships with people that are new within the past 10 years, let’s say, that are acquired and are really very helpful. And being a volunteer at the public library, there are a whole bunch of new people with whom I have light relationships, but they’re nice. A lunch can pep up a whole week. A lunch with a young person really is really great.

Graham: I think that’s an important piece for our audience as well. Relationships of all kinds make a difference, and the deep relationships and the light relationships. Denise, I just want to ask you before we move on, any thoughts on this issue of auditing relationships, sometimes perhaps confronting people who haven’t been there for you in the ways that you want and talking it through?

Baker: Yeah, I have friends who help me out for specific things like shopping, like taking me to meetings, but I’m concerned — I don’t know that they are — but I’m concerned about burning them out if I ask for help too often, so I find myself pulling back from time to time.

Graham: Thank you, Denise. I think we have time for one more wrap-around question for each one of you. We have three minutes left at this point. If you could go back and give your middle-aged self advice about preparing for older age, and older age living alone, what would that be? What would you tell the younger you? The 50-year-old you, perhaps. The 40-year-old you. Ken, why don’t you start?

Elliott: I’m going to come back to Denise’s point. She’s the only one who’s mentioned her dog.

Baker: She just woke up and came to visit us.

Elliott: That’s great. That’s great. No, but the point being is that I think critters are very important, and I use that word broadly, are a very important opportunity. And if I had a message to my 40-year-old self, first suggestion would be don’t take yourself so seriously. Then the second suggestion would be: Spend more time cultivating relationships with critters.

Graham: I like that. Bill, how about you?

Hall: Well, if I had a message to my younger self, it would have been to learn gratitude because it’s a hard lesson learned for me. And adaptability, that was another thing that was hard to learn for me. But I think those two things are really, fortunately, I’ve developed gratitude and adaptability, and I think it’s why I’m still here.

Graham: Thank you. Denise, would you have a message to younger Denise?

Baker: Yeah, I would tell younger Denise not to be so serious about everything, that life comes, life goes, and there are always new things to see and learn around the corner.

Graham: Thank you.

Baker: All I have to do is look for them.

Graham: Hilda, how about you?

Jaffe: Yeah, I think I would use part of the answer that I give to people now who ask me, to what do I attribute getting to 102? And of course, there’s genetics, and luck. Luck. But I also say, keep moving. And keep moving in the physical sense and in the intellectual and in the emotional sense. Don’t get stuck in one place.

Graham: And we’re almost done here. Don, you’re the last one. Advice to younger Don about growing older and doing so as a solo ager.

Bell: My advice to younger Don would be this: When those periods in your life happen where other lives have to be given a higher priority than your own, like when you’re raising your children or you’re caring for your parents, don’t lose your own life in that. Save some time in your life for your own life.

Graham: Thank you all. We’ve arrived at the end of this wonderful conversation. Thanks to the participants. Most of all, the five of you. Thanks to everyone who attended. Again, this will be housed on YouTube and on the KFF Health News website, and I so appreciate the chance to have these conversations with you all.

Jaffe: Thank you, Judy.

Elliott: Thank you for getting us into …

Jaffe: Thank you for getting us together, Judy. Really, thank you, Judy.

Graham: Thank you.

We’re eager to hear from readers about questions you’d like answered, problems you’ve been having with your care, and advice you need in dealing with the health care system. Visit kffhealthnews.org/columnists to submit your requests or tips.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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A Centenarian Thrives Living Alone, Active and Engaged https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/centenarian-thrives-living-alone-older-adults/ Tue, 10 Dec 2024 10:00:00 +0000 https://kffhealthnews.org/?post_type=article&p=1952257 “The future is here,” the email announced. Hilda Jaffe, then 88, was letting her children know she planned to sell the family home in Verona, New Jersey. She’d decided to begin life anew — on her own — in a one-bedroom apartment in Hell’s Kitchen in Manhattan.

Fourteen years later, Jaffe, now 102, still lives alone — just a few blocks away from the frenetic flashing lights and crowds that course through Times Square.

She’s the rarest of seniors: a centenarian who is sharp as a tack, who carries grocery bags in each hand when she walks back from her local market, and who takes city buses to see her physicians or attend a matinee at the Metropolitan Opera.

Jaffe cleans her own house, does her own laundry, manages her own finances, and stays in touch with a far-flung network of family and friends via email, WhatsApp, and Zoom. Her son, Richard Jaffe, 78, lives in San Jose, California. Her daughter, Barbara Vendriger, 75, lives in Tel Aviv.

She’s an extraordinary example of an older adult living by herself and thriving.

I’ve spoken with dozens of seniors this past year for a series of columns on older Americans living alone. Many struggle with health issues. Many are isolated and vulnerable. But a noteworthy slice of this growing group of seniors maintain a high degree of well-being.

What might account for this, particularly among people in the farthest reaches of old age?

Sofiya Milman is director of Human Longevity Studies at the Institute for Aging Research at Albert Einstein College of Medicine. She studies people known as “superagers” —95 and older. “As a group, they have a very positive outlook on life” and are notably resilient, like Jaffe, she told me.

Qualities associated with resilience in older adults include optimism and hopefulness, an ability to adapt to changing circumstances, meaningful relationships, community connections, and physical activity, according to a growing body of research on this topic.

Jaffe has those qualities in spades, along with a “can-do” attitude.

“I never expected to be 102. I’m as surprised as everybody else that I am here,” she said recently over lunch at a Chinese restaurant just steps from her 30-story apartment building.

Jaffe’s perspective on her longevity is unsentimental. She credits her genetic heritage, luck, and her commitment to “keep moving,” in that order. “You don’t work toward it: It happens. Every day, you get up and you’re a day older,” she said.

This matter-of-fact stance is characteristic of Jaffe’s approach to life. Asked to describe herself, she quickly responded “pragmatic.” That means having a clear-eyed view of what she can and can’t do and making adjustments as necessary.

Living alone suits her, she added, because she likes being independent and doing things her way. “If a problem comes up, I work it out,” Jaffe said. 

In this, she’s like other older adults who have come to terms with their “I’m on my own” status and, for the most part, are doing quite well. 

Still, Jaffe is unusual, to say the least. There are only 101,000 centenarians in the U.S., according to the most recent Census Bureau data. Of this small group, 15% live independently or operate independently while living with someone, according to Thomas Perls, the founder and director of the New England Centenarian Study, the largest study of centenarians in the world. (Jaffe is one of 2,500 centenarians participating in the study.)

About 20% of centenarians are, like Jaffe, free of physical or cognitive impairments, Perls said. An additional 15% have no age-related illnesses such as arthritis or heart disease.

Practically, that means Jaffe doesn’t know anybody like her. Nor do her physicians. “My primary care doctor says, ‘You’re the only centenarian who walks in without an assistant or a cane. You’re off the charts,’” Jaffe said, when I asked about her health.

She has only a few medical conditions — reflux, an occasional irregular heartbeat, osteoporosis, a touch of sciatica, a lung nodule that appeared and then disappeared. She monitors those conditions vigilantly, following her doctors’ advice to the letter.

Every day, Jaffe tries to walk 3,000 steps — outside if the weather is good or inside, making laps in her hallway, if the weather is bad. Her diet is simple: bread, cheese, and decaffeinated coffee for breakfast; a sandwich or eggs for lunch; often chicken and a vegetable or restaurant leftovers for dinner. She never smoked, doesn’t drink alcohol, and sleeps an average of eight hours each night.

Even more important, Jaffe remains engaged with other people. She has subscriptions to the Metropolitan Opera, the New York Philharmonic, and a chamber music series. She participates in online events and regularly sees new exhibits at four of New York’s premier museums, where she has memberships. She’s in regular contact with family members and friends.

Jaffe also belongs to a book club at her synagogue on Manhattan’s Upper West Side and serves on the synagogue’s adult education committee. For more than a decade, she’s volunteered several times a week as a docent at the New York Public Library’s main branch on Fifth Avenue.

“Loneliness, it’s not an issue,” she said. “I have enough to do within my capability.”

On a recent Tuesday afternoon, I followed Jaffe as she led visitors from Mexico, England, Pittsburgh, and New Jersey through the library’s “Treasures” exhibit. She was a wealth of information about extraordinary objects such as a Gutenberg Bible from 1455 (one of the first books printed in Europe using movable type), Charles Dickens’ writing desk, and an enormous folio of John James Audubon’s “The Birds of America.” She spoke without notes, articulately.

When I asked about the future, Jaffe said she doesn’t worry about what comes next. She just lives day to day.

That change in perspective is common in later life. “Focusing on the present and experiencing the here and now becomes more important to older adults,” said Laura Carstensen, founding director of Stanford University’s Center on Longevity, who has studied emotional changes that accompany aging for decades. “As does savoring positive things in their lives.”

Carstensen’s research group was the first to show that older adults were more resilient emotionally during the covid-19 pandemic than young or middle-aged adults. “Older people are better able to cope with difficulties,” she said. In part, this is because of skills and perspective gained over the course of a lifetime. And, in part, it’s because “when we see our future as shorter, it feels more manageable.”

Jaffe certainly understands the value of facing forward and letting go of the past. Losing her husband, Gerald Jaffe, in 2005 after 63 years of marriage was hard, she admitted, but relinquishing her life and most of her belongings in New Jersey five years later was easy.

“It was enough. We had done what we had wanted to do there. I was 88 at that point and so many people were gone. The world had changed,” she told me. “I didn’t feel a sense of loss.”

“It was so exciting for me, being in New York,” she continued. “Every day you could do something — or nothing. This location couldn’t be better. The building is safe and well maintained, with lots of staff. Everything is here, close by: a market, the pharmacy, restaurants, buses. In a house in New Jersey, I would be isolated. Here, I look out the window and I see people.”

As for the future, who knows what that will hold? “My joke is I’m going to be done in by a bicycle delivery person cutting through the pedestrian crosswalk,” Jaffe said. Until that or something else happens, “I live in a state of surprise. Every day is a new day. I don’t take it for granted at all.”

We’re eager to hear from readers about questions you’d like answered, problems you’ve been having with your care, and advice you need in dealing with the health care system. Visit kffhealthnews.org/columnists to submit your requests or tips.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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Resources Are Expanding for Older Adults on Their Own https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/aging-alone-resources-older-adults-solo-agers/ Mon, 09 Dec 2024 10:00:00 +0000 https://kffhealthnews.org/?post_type=article&p=1949948 Jeff Kromrey, 69, will sit down with his daughter the next time she visits and show her how to access his online accounts if he has an unexpected health crisis.

Gayle Williams-Brett, 69, plans to tackle a project she’s been putting off for months: organizing all her financial information.

Michael Davis, 71, is going to draft a living will and ask a close friend to be his health care surrogate and executor of his estate.

These seniors have been inspired to take these and other actions by an innovative course for such “solo agers”: Aging Alone Together, offered by Dorot, a social services agency in New York City.

Most of them live alone, without a spouse, a partner, or adult children to help them manage as they grow older.

Until a few years ago, few resources were available for this growing slice of the older population.

Now, there are several Facebook groups for solo agers, as well as in-person groups springing up around the country, conferences and webinars, a national clearinghouse of resources, and an expanding array of books on the topic.

All address these seniors’ need to connect with other people, prevent isolation, and prepare for a future when they might become less robust, encounter more health issues, and need more assistance.

“Older adults who cannot rely on family members need to be very intentional about creating support systems and putting other plans in place,” said Ailene Gerhardt, a patient advocate in Boston who created the Navigating Solo Network three years ago.

In a survey published last year, AARP — which broadens the definition of older Americans to people 50 and older — examined those who live alone and don’t have living children. Ten percent of those 50 or older meet this definition, AARP estimates. An additional 11% have at least one living child but are estranged from them. And 13% have children who they believe can’t or won’t help them manage their finances and health care.

Preparing in isolation for the future can be daunting. “If solo agers don’t feel they have people to talk to as they craft their aging plan, they often will skip the whole process,” said Gerhardt, who endorses a group planning model for these seniors.

That’s the format Dorot has adopted for Aging Alone Together, which is available nationally online free of charge and in person in New York City. More than 1,000 people have participated in the program since it launched in 2021. Dorot is working with partners around the country to expand its reach.

The program consists of six 90-minute, interactive weekly sessions that focus on these seniors’ key concerns: building communities of support, figuring out where to live, completing advance care directives such as living wills, and getting financial and legal affairs in order.

One goal is to help participants identify their priorities and overcome the fear and hesitation that so many older adults feel when peering into their uncertain futures, said Claire Nisen, a Dorot staffer who runs the program. Another is to offer practical tools, advice, and resources that can spur people to action.

Yet another is to foster a sense of community that promotes a “can do” attitude. As Nisen said repeatedly when I took the course in September and October, “Solo aging doesn’t mean aging alone.”

That message resonated deeply with Williams-Brett, who lives with her severely disabled mother, 97, in a two-story brownstone in Brooklyn. Williams-Brett, who is divorced and never had children, expects to be on her own as she grows older. Her mother had a devastating stroke three years ago, and since then Williams-Brett has been her full-time caregiver.

Overwhelmed by everything on her to-do list — declutter the house, make home repairs, straighten out her finances, safeguard her mother’s health — Williams-Brett told me she’d been struggling with shame and fear. “All the time, I feel I’m not doing what I should be well enough,” she said.

Hearing other seniors voice similar concerns during Aging Alone Together sessions, Williams-Brett realized she didn’t judge them as she was judging herself. “I thought, we all have issues we’re dealing with,” she said. “You don’t have anything to feel ashamed of.”

Kromrey, who lives alone in Tampa, Florida, knows he’s fortunate to be healthy, financially stable, and very close with his adult daughter, who will be his health care and legal decision-maker should he become incapacitated. Kromrey, widowed nine years ago, also has three sons — two in South Carolina and one in West Palm Beach, Florida.

While participating in Aging Alone Together, Kromrey realized he had assumed he’d never have a health crisis such as a stroke or heart attack — a common form of denial.

His daughter and her husband planned to travel from North Carolina to join Kromrey over Thanksgiving. During that visit, Kromrey said, he would give her passwords to his computer and online accounts, explain his system for keeping track of bills, and show her where other important files are.

“That way, she’ll just be able to take right over if something unexpected occurs,” he said.

Davis is an artist who never married, doesn’t have siblings and lives alone in Manhattan. In a phone conversation, he said his most pressing concern is “finding something to do that’s worthwhile” now that arthritis has made it difficult for him to paint.

In some ways, Davis is prepared for the future. He has a long-term care insurance policy that will pay for help in the home and a rent-regulated apartment in a building with an elevator. But he recognizes that he’s become too isolated as his artistic activities have waned.

“There are days that go by when I don’t say a word to anyone,” Davis acknowledged. “I have my friends, but they have their own lives, with their children and grandchildren. I’m turning to Dorot for more social contact. And Aging Alone Together has helped me focus on the here and now.”

For more information about Aging Alone Together, email agingalonetogether@dorotusa.org or visit the program’s website.

A national clearinghouse of resources for solo agers and information about solo-ager groups in the United States is available at the Navigating Solo website.

The National Council on Aging has assembled a guide to resources and support for older adults living alone.

Facebook groups for solo agers include Elder Orphans (Aging Alone), Elder Orphans, NYC Solo Agers, and Solo Aging Without Personal Representative. Another online community is the Solo Ager/Aging Together.

Books about planning for solo aging include “Essential Retirement Planning for Solo Agers,” “Solo and Smart,” “Who Will Take Care of Me When I’m Old?” and “The Complete Eldercare Planner.”

Several videos about planning for solo aging can be found on YouTube, including this helpful video from CJE SeniorLife.

We’re eager to hear from readers about questions you’d like answered, problems you’ve been having with your care, and advice you need in dealing with the health care system. Visit kffhealthnews.org/columnists to submit your requests or tips.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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This story can be republished for free (details).

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Homebound Seniors Living Alone Often Slip Through Health System’s Cracks https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/seniors-homebound-living-alone-health-risks-new-york/ Mon, 02 Dec 2024 09:00:00 +0000 https://kffhealthnews.org/?post_type=article&p=1929131 Carolyn Dickens, 76, was sitting at her dining room table, struggling to catch her breath as her physician looked on with concern.

“What’s going on with your breathing?” asked Peter Gliatto, director of Mount Sinai’s Visiting Doctors Program.

“I don’t know,” she answered, so softly it was hard to hear. “Going from here to the bathroom or the door, I get really winded. I don’t know when it’s going to be my last breath.”

Dickens, a lung cancer survivor, lives in central Harlem, barely getting by. She has serious lung disease and high blood pressure and suffers regular fainting spells. In the past year, she’s fallen several times and dropped to 85 pounds, a dangerously low weight.

And she lives alone, without any help — a highly perilous situation.

Across the country, about 2 million adults 65 and older are completely or mostly homebound, while an additional 5.5 million seniors can get out only with significant difficulty or assistance. This is almost surely an undercount, since the data is from more than a dozen years ago.

It’s a population whose numbers far exceed those living in nursing homes — about 1.2 million — and yet it receives much less attention from policymakers, legislators, and academics who study aging.

Consider some eye-opening statistics about completely homebound seniors from a study published in 2020 in JAMA Internal Medicine: Nearly 40% have five or more chronic medical conditions, such as heart or lung disease. Almost 30% are believed to have “probable dementia.” Seventy-seven percent have difficulty with at least one daily task such as bathing or dressing.

Almost 40% live by themselves.

That “on my own” status magnifies these individuals’ already considerable vulnerability, something that became acutely obvious during the covid-19 outbreak, when the number of sick and disabled seniors confined to their homes doubled.

“People who are homebound, like other individuals who are seriously ill, rely on other people for so much,” said Katherine Ornstein, director of the Center for Equity in Aging at the Johns Hopkins School of Nursing. “If they don’t have someone there with them, they’re at risk of not having food, not having access to health care, not living in a safe environment.”

Research has shown that older homebound adults are less likely to receive regular primary care than other seniors. They’re also more likely to end up in the hospital with medical crises that might have been prevented if someone had been checking on them.

To better understand the experiences of these seniors, I accompanied Gliatto on some home visits in New York City. Mount Sinai’s Visiting Doctors Program, established in 1995, is one of the oldest in the nation. Only 12% of older U.S. adults who rarely or never leave home have access to this kind of home-based primary care.

Gliatto and his staff — seven part-time doctors, three nurse practitioners, two nurses, two social workers, and three administrative staffers — serve about 1,000 patients in Manhattan each year.

These patients have complicated needs and require high levels of assistance. In recent years, Gliatto has had to cut staff as Mount Sinai has reduced its financial contribution to the program. It doesn’t turn a profit, because reimbursement for services is low and expenses are high.

First, Gliatto stopped in to see Sandra Pettway, 79, who never married or had children and has lived by herself in a two-bedroom Harlem apartment for 30 years.

Pettway has severe spinal problems and back pain, as well as Type 2 diabetes and depression. She has difficulty moving around and rarely leaves her apartment. “Since the pandemic, it’s been awfully lonely,” she told me.

When I asked who checks in on her, Pettway mentioned her next-door neighbor. There’s no one else she sees regularly.

Pettway told the doctor she was increasingly apprehensive about an upcoming spinal surgery. He reassured her that Medicare would cover in-home nursing care, aides, and physical therapy services.

“Someone will be with you, at least for six weeks,” he said. Left unsaid: Afterward, she would be on her own. (The surgery in April went well, Gliatto reported later.)

The doctor listened carefully as Pettway talked about her memory lapses.

“I can remember when I was a year old, but I can’t remember 10 minutes ago,” she said. He told her that he thought she was managing well but that he would arrange testing if there was further evidence of cognitive decline. For now, he said, he’s not particularly worried about her ability to manage on her own.

Several blocks away, Gliatto visited Dickens, who has lived in her one-bedroom Harlem apartment for 31 years. Dickens told me she hasn’t seen other people regularly since her sister, who used to help her out, had a stroke. Most of the neighbors she knew well have died. Her only other close relative is a niece in the Bronx whom she sees about once a month.

Dickens worked with special-education students for decades in New York City’s public schools. Now she lives on a small pension and Social Security — too much to qualify for Medicaid. (Medicaid, the program for low-income people, will pay for aides in the home. Medicare, which covers people over age 65, does not.) Like Pettway, she has only a small fixed income, so she can’t afford in-home help.

Every Friday, God’s Love We Deliver, an organization that prepares medically tailored meals for sick people, delivers a week’s worth of frozen breakfasts and dinners that Dickens reheats in the microwave. She almost never goes out. When she has energy, she tries to do a bit of cleaning.

Without the ongoing attention from Gliatto, Dickens doesn’t know what she’d do. “Having to get up and go out, you know, putting on your clothes, it’s a task,” she said. “And I have the fear of falling.”

The next day, Gliatto visited Marianne Gluck Morrison, 73, a former survey researcher for New York City’s personnel department, in her cluttered Greenwich Village apartment. Morrison, who doesn’t have any siblings or children, was widowed in 2010 and has lived alone since.

Morrison said she’d been feeling dizzy over the past few weeks, and Gliatto gave her a basic neurological exam, asking her to follow his fingers with her eyes and touch her fingers to her nose.

“I think your problem is with your ear, not your brain,” he told her, describing symptoms of vertigo.

Because she had severe wounds on her feet related to Type 2 diabetes, Morrison had been getting home health care for several weeks through Medicare. But those services — help from aides, nurses, and physical therapists — were due to expire in two weeks.

“I don’t know what I’ll do then, probably just spend a lot of time in bed,” Morrison told me. Among her other medical conditions: congestive heart failure, osteoarthritis, an irregular heartbeat, chronic kidney disease, and depression.

Morrison hasn’t left her apartment since November 2023, when she returned home after a hospitalization and several months at a rehabilitation center. Climbing the three steps that lead up into her apartment building is simply too hard.

“It’s hard to be by myself so much of the time. It’s lonely,” she told me. “I would love to have people see me in the house. But at this point, because of the clutter, I can’t do it.”

When I asked Morrison who she feels she can count on, she listed Gliatto and a mental health therapist from Henry Street Settlement, a social services organization. She has one close friend she speaks with on the phone most nights.

“The problem is I’ve lost eight to nine friends in the last 15 years,” she said, sighing heavily. “They’ve died or moved away.”

Bruce Leff, director of the Center for Transformative Geriatric Research at the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine, is a leading advocate of home-based medical care. “It’s kind of amazing how people find ways to get by,” he said when I asked him about homebound older adults who live alone. “There’s a significant degree of frailty and vulnerability, but there is also substantial resilience.”

With the rapid expansion of the aging population in the years ahead, Leff is convinced that more kinds of care will move into the home, everything from rehab services to palliative care to hospital-level services.

“It will simply be impossible to build enough hospitals and health facilities to meet the demand from an aging population,” he said.

But that will be challenging for homebound older adults who are on their own. Without on-site family caregivers, there may be no one around to help manage this home-based care.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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Older Americans Living Alone Often Rely on Neighbors or Others Willing To Help https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/older-americans-living-alone-help-neighbors-minneapolis-chicago-boulder/ Tue, 12 Nov 2024 09:00:00 +0000 https://kffhealthnews.org/?post_type=article&p=1928388 Donald Hammen, 80, and his longtime next-door neighbor in south Minneapolis, Julie McMahon, have an understanding. Every morning, she checks to see whether he’s raised the blinds in his dining room window. If not, she’ll call Hammen or let herself into his house to see what’s going on.

Should McMahon find Hammen in a bad way, she plans to contact his sister-in-law, who lives in a suburb of Des Moines. That’s his closest relative. Hammen never married or had children, and his younger brother died in 2022.

Although Hammen lives alone, a web of relationships binds him to his city and his community — neighbors, friends, former co-workers, fellow volunteers with an advocacy group for seniors, and fellow members of a group of solo agers. McMahon is an emergency contact, as is a former co-worker. When Hammen was hit by a car in February 2019, another neighbor did his laundry. A friend came over to keep him company. Other people went on walks with Hammen as he got back on his feet.

Those connections are certainly sustaining. Yet Hammen has no idea who might care for him should he become unable to care for himself.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” he told me.

These are fundamental questions for older adults who live alone: Who will be there for them, for matters large and small? Who will help them navigate the ever more complex health care system and advocate on their behalf? Who will take out the garbage if it becomes too difficult to carry? Who will shovel the snow if a winter storm blows through?

American society rests on an assumption that families take care of their own. But 15 million Americans 50 and older didn’t have any close family — spouses, partners, or children — in 2015, the latest year for which reliable estimates are available. Most lived alone. By 2060, that number is expected to swell to 21 million.

Beyond that, millions of seniors living on their own aren’t geographically close to adult children or other family members. Or they have difficult, strained relationships that keep them from asking for support.

These older adults must seek assistance from other quarters when they need it. Often they turn to neighbors, friends, church members, or community groups — or paid help, if they can afford it.

And often, they simply go without, leaving them vulnerable to isolation, depression, and deteriorating health.

When seniors living alone have no close family, can nonfamily helpers be an adequate substitute? This hasn’t been well studied.

“We’re just beginning to do a better job of understanding that people have a multiplicity of connections outside their families that are essential to their well-being,” said Sarah Patterson, a demographer and sociologist at the Institute for Social Research at the University of Michigan.

The takeaway from a noteworthy study published by researchers at Emory University, Johns Hopkins University, and the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai was this: Many seniors adapt to living solo by weaving together local social networks of friends, neighbors, nieces and nephews, and siblings (if they’re available) to support their independence.

Still, finding reliable local connections isn’t always easy. And nonfamily helpers may not be willing or able to provide consistent, intense hands-on care if that becomes necessary.

When AARP surveyed people it calls “solo agers” in 2022, only 25% said they could count on someone to help them cook, clean, get groceries, or perform other household tasks if needed. Just 38% said they knew someone who could help manage ongoing care needs. (AARP defined solo agers as people 50 and older who aren’t married, don’t have living children, and live alone.)

Linda Camp, 73, a former administrator with the city of St. Paul, Minnesota, who never married or had children, has written several reports for the Citizens League in St. Paul about growing old alone. Yet she was still surprised by how much help she required this summer when she had cataract surgery on both eyes.

A former co-worker accompanied Camp to the surgery center twice and waited there until the procedures were finished. A relatively new friend took her to a follow-up appointment. An 81-year-old downstairs neighbor agreed to come up if Camp needed something. Other friends and neighbors also chipped in.

Camp was fortunate — she has a sizable network of former co-workers, neighbors, and friends. “What I tell people when I talk about solos is 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 assemble a local network of support. Wallace has been divorced for nearly three decades and doesn’t have children. Though she has two sisters and a brother, they live far away.

Wallace describes herself as happily unpartnered. “Coupling isn’t for me,” she told me when we first talked. “I need my space and my privacy too much.”

Instead, she’s cultivated relationships with several people she met through local groups for solo agers. Many have become her close friends. Two of them, both in their 70s, are “like sisters,” Wallace said. Another, who lives just a few blocks away, has agreed to become a “we’ll help each other out when needed” partner.

“In our 70s, solo agers are looking for support systems. And the scariest thing is not having friends close by,” Wallace told me. “It’s the local network that’s really important.”

Gardner Stern, 96, who lives alone on the 24th floor of the Carl Sandburg Village condominium complex just north of downtown Chicago, has been far less deliberate. He never planned for his care needs in older age. He just figured things would work out.

They have, but not as Stern predicted.

The person who helps him the most is his third wife, Jobie Stern, 75. The couple went through an acrimonious divorce in 1985, but now she goes to all his doctor appointments, takes him grocery shopping, drives him to physical therapy twice a week and stops in every afternoon to chat for about an hour.

She’s also Gardner’s neighbor — she lives 10 floors above him in the same building.

Why does she do it? “I guess because I moved into the building and he’s very old and he’s a really good guy and we have a child together,” she told me. “I get happiness knowing he’s doing as well as possible.”

Over many years, she said, she and Gardner have put their differences aside.

“Never would I have expected this of Jobie,” Gardner told me. “I guess time heals all wounds.”

Gardner’s other main local connections are Joy Loverde, 72, an author of elder-care books, and her 79-year-old husband, who live on the 28th floor. Gardner calls Loverde his “tell it like it is” friend — the one who helped him decide it was time to stop driving, the one who persuaded him to have a walk-in shower with a bench installed in his bathroom, the one who plays Scrabble with him every week and offers practical advice whenever he has a problem.

“I think I would be in an assisted living facility without her,” Gardner said.

There’s also family: four children, all based in Los Angeles, eight grandchildren, mostly in L.A., and nine great-grandchildren. Gardner sees most of this extended clan about once a year and speaks to them often, but he can’t depend on them for his day-to-day needs.

For that, Loverde and Jobie are an elevator ride away. “I’ve got these wonderful people who are monitoring my existence, and a big-screen TV, and a freezer full of good frozen dinners,” Gardner said. “It’s all that I need.”

As I explore the lives of older adults living alone in the next several months, I’m eager to hear from people who are in this situation. If you’d like to share your stories, please send them to khn.navigatingaging@gmail.com.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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Millions of Aging Americans Are Facing Dementia by Themselves https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/navigating-aging-alone-dementia/ Tue, 15 Oct 2024 09:00:00 +0000 https://kffhealthnews.org/?post_type=article&p=1920042 Sociologist Elena Portacolone was taken aback. Many of the older adults in San Francisco she visited at home for a research project were confused when she came to the door. They’d forgotten the appointment or couldn’t remember speaking to her.

It seemed clear they had some type of cognitive impairment. Yet they were living alone.

Portacolone, an associate professor at the University of California-San Francisco, wondered how common this was. Had anyone examined this group? How were they managing?

When she reviewed the research literature more than a decade ago, there was little there. “I realized this is a largely invisible population,” she said.

Portacolone got to work and now leads the Living Alone With Cognitive Impairment Project at UCSF. The project estimates that that at least 4.3 million people 55 or older who have cognitive impairment or dementia live alone in the United States.

About half have trouble with daily activities such as bathing, eating, cooking, shopping, taking medications, and managing money, according to their research. But only 1 in 3 received help with at least one such activity.

Compared with other older adults who live by themselves, people living alone with cognitive impairment are older, more likely to be women, and disproportionately Black or Latino, with lower levels of education, wealth, and homeownership. Yet only 21% qualify for publicly funded programs such as Medicaid that pay for aides to provide services in the home.

In a health care system that assumes older adults have family caregivers to help them, “we realized this population is destined to fall through the cracks,” Portacolone said.

Imagine what this means. As memory and thinking problems accelerate, these seniors can lose track of bills, have their electricity shut off, or be threatened with eviction. They might stop shopping (it’s too overwhelming) or cooking (it’s too hard to follow recipes). Or they might be unable to communicate clearly or navigate automated phone systems.

A variety of other problems can ensue, including social isolation, malnutrition, self-neglect, and susceptibility to scams. Without someone to watch over them, older adults on their own may experience worsening health without anyone noticing or struggle with dementia without ever being diagnosed.

Should vulnerable seniors live this way?

For years, Portacolone and her collaborators nationwide have followed nearly 100 older adults with cognitive impairment who live alone. She listed some concerns people told researchers they worried most about: “Who do I trust? When is the next time I’m going to forget? If I think I need more help, where do I find it? How do I hide my forgetfulness?”

Jane Lowers, an assistant professor at the Emory University School of Medicine, has been studying “kinless” adults in the early stages of dementia — those without a live-in partner or children nearby. Their top priority, she told me, is “remaining independent for as long as possible.”

Seeking to learn more about these seniors’ experiences, I contacted the National Council of Dementia Minds. The organization last year started a biweekly online group for people living alone with dementia. Its staffers arranged a Zoom conversation with five people, all with early-to-moderate dementia.

One was Kathleen Healy, 60, who has significant memory problems and lives alone in Fresno, California.

“One of the biggest challenges is that people don’t really see what’s going on with you,” she said. “Let’s say my house is a mess or I’m sick or I’m losing track of my bills. If I can get myself together, I can walk out the door and nobody knows what’s going on.”

An administrator with the city of Fresno for 28 years, Healy said she had to retire in 2019 “because my brain stopped working.” With her pension, she’s able to cover her expenses, but she doesn’t have significant savings or assets.

Healy said she can’t rely on family members who have troubles of their own. (Her 83-year-old mother has dementia and lives with Healy’s sister.) The person who checks on her most frequently is an ex-boyfriend.

“I don’t really have anybody,” she said, choking up.

David West, 62, is a divorced former social worker with Lewy body dementia, which can impair thinking and concentration and cause hallucinations. He lives alone in an apartment in downtown Fort Worth, Texas.

“I will not survive this in the end — I know that — but I’m going to meet this with resilience,” he said when I spoke with him by phone in June.

Since his diagnosis nearly three years ago, West has filled his life with exercise and joined three dementia support groups. He spends up to 20 hours a week volunteering, at a restaurant, a food bank, a museum, and Dementia Friendly Fort Worth.

Still, West knows that his illness will progress and that this period of relative independence is limited. What will he do then? Although he has three adult children, he said, he can’t expect them to take him in and become dementia caregivers — an extraordinarily stressful, time-intensive, financially draining commitment.

“I don’t know how it’s going to work out,” he said.

Denise Baker, 80, a former CIA analyst, lives in a 100-year-old house in Asheville, North Carolina, with her dog, Yolo. She has cognitive problems related to a stroke 28 years ago, Alzheimer’s disease, and serious vision impairment that prevents her from driving. Her adult daughters live in Massachusetts and Colorado.

“I’m a very independent person, and I find that I want to do everything I possibly can for myself,” Baker told me, months before Asheville was ravaged by severe flooding. “It makes me feel better about myself.”

She was lucky in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene: Baker lives on a hill in West Asheville that was untouched by floodwaters. In the week immediately after the storm, she filled water jugs every day at an old well near her house and brought them back in a wheelbarrow.  Though her power was out, she had plenty of food and neighbors looked in on her. 

“I’m absolutely fine,” she told me on the phone in early October after a member of Dementia Friendly Western North Carolina drove to Baker’s house to check in on her, upon my request. Baker is on the steering committee of that organization.

Baker once found it hard to ask for assistance, but these days she relies routinely on friends and hired help. A few examples: Elaine takes her grocery shopping every Monday. Roberta comes once a month to help with her mail and finances. Jack mows her lawn. Helen offers care management advice. Tom, a cab driver she connected with through Buncombe County’s transportation program for seniors, is her go-to guy for errands.

Her daughter Karen in Boston has the authority to make legal and health care decisions when Baker can no longer do so. When that day comes — and Baker knows it will — she expects her long-term care insurance policy to pay for home aides or memory care. Until then, “I plan to do as much as I can in the state I’m in,” she said.

Much can be done to better assist older adults with dementia who are on their own, said Elizabeth Gould, co-director of the National Alzheimer’s and Dementia Resource Center at RTI International, a nonprofit research institute. “If health care providers would just ask ‘Who do you live with?’” she said, “that could open the door to identifying who might need more help.”

We’re eager to hear from readers about questions you’d like answered, problems you’ve been having with your care, and advice you need in dealing with the health care system. Visit kffhealthnews.org/columnists to submit your requests or tips.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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Older Men’s Connections Often Wither When They’re on Their Own https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/older-men-connections-isolation-loneliness-navigating-aging/ Thu, 10 Oct 2024 09:00:00 +0000 https://kffhealthnews.org/?post_type=article&p=1917945 At age 66, South Carolina physician Paul Rousseau decided to retire after tending for decades to the suffering of people who were seriously ill or dying. It was a difficult and emotionally fraught transition.

“I didn’t know what I was going to do, where I was going to go,” he told me, describing a period of crisis that began in 2017.

Seeking a change of venue, Rousseau moved to the mountains of North Carolina, the start of an extended period of wandering. Soon, a sense of emptiness enveloped him. He had no friends or hobbies — his work as a doctor had been all-consuming. Former colleagues didn’t get in touch, nor did he reach out.

His wife had passed away after a painful illness a decade earlier. Rousseau was estranged from one adult daughter and in only occasional contact with another. His isolation mounted as his three dogs, his most reliable companions, died.

Rousseau was completely alone — without friends, family, or a professional identity — and overcome by a sense of loss.

“I was a somewhat distinguished physician with a 60-page resume,” Rousseau, now 73, wrote in the Journal of the American Geriatrics Society in May. “Now, I’m ‘no one,’ a retired, forgotten old man who dithers away the days.”

In some ways, older men living alone are disadvantaged compared with older women in similar circumstances. Research shows that men tend to have fewer friends than women and be less inclined to make new friends. Often, they’re reluctant to ask for help.

“Men have a harder time being connected and reaching out,” said Robert Waldinger, a psychiatrist who directs the Harvard Study of Adult Development, which has traced the arc of hundreds of men’s lives over a span of more than eight decades. The men in the study who fared the worst, Waldinger said, “didn’t have friendships and things they were interested in — and couldn’t find them.” He recommends that men invest in their “social fitness” in addition to their physical fitness to ensure they have satisfying social interactions.

Slightly more than 1 in every 5 men ages 65 to 74 live alone, according to 2022 Census Bureau data. That rises to nearly 1 in 4 for those 75 or older. Nearly 40% of these men are divorced, 31% are widowed, and 21% never married.

That’s a significant change from 2000, when only 1 in 6 older men lived by themselves. Longer life spans for men and rising divorce rates are contributing to the trend. It’s difficult to find information about this group — which is dwarfed by the number of women who live alone — because it hasn’t been studied in depth. But psychologists and psychiatrists say these older men can be quite vulnerable.

When men are widowed, their health and well-being tend to decline more than women’s.

“Older men have a tendency to ruminate, to get into our heads with worries and fears and to feel more lonely and isolated,” said Jed Diamond, 80, a therapist and the author of “Surviving Male Menopause” and “The Irritable Male Syndrome.”

Add in the decline of civic institutions where men used to congregate — think of the Elks or the Shriners — and older men’s reduced ability to participate in athletic activities, and the result is a lack of stimulation and the loss of a sense of belonging.

Depression can ensue, fueling excessive alcohol use, accidents, or, in the most extreme cases, suicide. Of all age groups in the United States, men over age 75 have the highest suicide rate, by far.

For this column, I spoke at length to several older men who live alone. All but two (who’d been divorced) were widowed. Their experiences don’t represent all men who live alone. But still, they’re revealing.

The first person I called was Art Koff, 88, of Chicago, a longtime marketing executive I’d known for several years. When I reached out in January, I learned that Koff’s wife, Norma, had died the year before, leaving him hobbled by grief. Uninterested in eating and beset by unremitting loneliness, Koff lost 45 pounds.

“I’ve had a long and wonderful life, and I have lots of family and lots of friends who are terrific,” Koff told me. But now, he said, “nothing is of interest to me any longer.”

“I’m not happy living this life,” he said.

Nine days later, I learned that Koff had died. His nephew, Alexander Koff, said he had passed out and was gone within a day. The death certificate cited “end stage protein calorie malnutrition” as the cause.

The transition from being coupled to being single can be profoundly disorienting for older men. Lodovico Balducci, 80, was married to his wife, Claudia, for 52 years before she died in October 2023. Balducci, a renowned physician known as the “patriarch of geriatric oncology,” wrote about his emotional reaction in the Journal of the American Geriatrics Society, likening Claudia’s death to an “amputation.”

“I find myself talking to her all the time, most of the time in my head,” Balducci told me in a phone conversation. When I asked him whom he confides in, he admitted, “Maybe I don’t have any close friends.”

Disoriented and disorganized since Claudia died, he said his “anxiety has exploded.”

We spoke in late February. Two weeks later, Balducci moved from Tampa to New Orleans, to be near his son and daughter-in-law and their two teenagers.

“I am planning to help as much as possible with my grandchildren,” he said. “Life has to go on.”

Verne Ostrander, a carpenter in the small town of Willits, California, about 140 miles north of San Francisco, was reflective when I spoke with him, also in late February. His second wife, Cindy Morninglight, died four years ago after a long battle with cancer.

“Here I am, almost 80 years old — alone,” Ostrander said. “Who would have guessed?”

When Ostrander isn’t painting watercolors, composing music, or playing guitar, “I fall into this lonely state, and I cry quite a bit,” he told me. “I don’t ignore those feelings. I let myself feel them. It’s like therapy.”

Ostrander has lived in Willits for nearly 50 years and belongs to a men’s group and a couples’ group that’s been meeting for 20 years. He’s in remarkably good health and in close touch with his three adult children, who live within easy driving distance.

“The hard part of living alone is missing Cindy,” he told me. “The good part is the freedom to do whatever I want. My goal is to live another 20 to 30 years and become a better artist and get to know my kids when they get older.”

The Rev. Johnny Walker, 76, lives in a low-income apartment building in a financially challenged neighborhood on Chicago’s West Side. Twice divorced, he’s been on his own for five years. He, too, has close family connections. At least one of his several children and grandchildren checks in on him every day.

Walker says he had a life-changing religious conversion in 1993. Since then, he has depended on his faith and his church for a sense of meaning and community.

“It’s not hard being alone,” Walker said when I asked whether he was lonely. “I accept Christ in my life, and he said that he would never leave us or forsake us. When I wake up in the morning, that’s a new blessing. I just thank God that he has brought me this far.”

Waldinger recommended that men “make an effort every day to be in touch with people. Find what you love — golf, gardening, birdwatching, pickleball, working on a political campaign — and pursue it,” he said. “Put yourself in a situation where you’re going to see the same people over and over again. Because that’s the most natural way conversations get struck up and friendships start to develop.”

Rousseau, the retired South Carolina doctor, said he doesn’t think about the future much. After feeling lost for several years, he moved across the country to Jackson, Wyoming, in the summer of 2023. He embraced solitude, choosing a remarkably isolated spot to live — a 150-square-foot cabin with no running water and no bathroom, surrounded by 25,000 undeveloped acres of public and privately owned land.

“Yes, I’m still lonely, but the nature and the beauty here totally changed me and focused me on what’s really important,” he told me, describing a feeling of redemption in his solitude.

Rousseau realizes that the death of his parents and a very close friend in his childhood left him with a sense of loss that he kept at bay for most of his life. Now, he said, rather than denying his vulnerability, he’s trying to live with it. “There’s only so long you can put off dealing with all the things you’re trying to escape from.”

It’s not the life he envisioned, but it’s one that fits him, Rousseau said. He stays busy with volunteer activities — cleaning tanks and running tours at Jackson’s fish hatchery, serving as a part-time park ranger, and maintaining trails in nearby national forests. Those activities put him in touch with other people, mostly strangers, only intermittently.

What will happen to him when this way of living is no longer possible?

“I wish I had an answer, but I don’t,” Rousseau said. “I don’t see my daughters taking care of me. As far as someone else, I don’t think there’s anyone else who’s going to help me.”

We’re eager to hear from readers about questions you’d like answered, problems you’ve been having with your care, and advice you need in dealing with the health care system. Visit kffhealthnews.org/columnists to submit your requests or tips.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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Historic Numbers of Americans Live by Themselves as They Age https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/going-it-alone-americans-aging-by-themselves-support-networks-children/ Tue, 17 Sep 2024 09:00:00 +0000 https://kffhealthnews.org/?post_type=article&p=1907113 Gerri Norington, 78, never wanted to be on her own as she grew old.

But her first marriage ended in divorce, and her second husband died more than 30 years ago. When a five-year relationship came to a close in 2006, she found herself alone — a situation that has lasted since.

“I miss having a companion who I can talk to and ask ‘How was your day?’ or ‘What do you think of what’s going on in the world?’” said Norington, who lives in an apartment building for seniors on the South Side of Chicago. Although she has a loving daughter in the city, “I don’t want to be a burden to her,” she said.

Norington is part of a large but often overlooked group: the more than 16 million Americans living alone while growing old. Surprisingly little is known about their experiences.

This slice of the older population has significant health issues: Nearly 4 in 10 seniors living alone have vision or hearing loss, difficulty caring for themselves and living independently, problems with cognition, or other disabilities, according to a KFF analysis of 2022 census data.

If help at home isn’t available when needed — an altogether too common problem — being alone can magnify these difficulties and contribute to worsening health.

Studies find that seniors on their own are at higher risk of becoming isolated, depressed, and inactive, having accidents, and neglecting to care for themselves. As a result, they tend to be hospitalized more often and suffer earlier-than-expected deaths.

Getting medical services can be a problem, especially if older adults living alone reside in rural areas or don’t drive. Too often, experts observe, health care providers don’t ask about older adults’ living situations and are unaware of the challenges they face.

***

During the past six months, I’ve spoken to dozens of older adults who live alone either by choice or by circumstance — most commonly, a spouse’s death. Some have adult children or other close relatives who are involved in their lives; many don’t.

In lengthy conversations, these seniors expressed several common concerns: How did I end up alone at this time of life? Am I OK with that? Who can I call on for help? Who can make decisions on my behalf if I’m unable to? How long will I be able to take care of myself, and what will happen when I can’t?

This “gray revolution” in Americans’ living arrangements is fueled by longer life spans, rising rates of divorce and childlessness, smaller families, the geographic dispersion of family members, an emphasis on aging in place, and a preference for what Eric Klinenberg, a professor of sociology at New York University, calls “intimacy at a distance” — being close to family, but not too close.

The most reliable, up-to-date data about older adults who live alone comes from the U.S. Census Bureau. According to its 2023 Current Population Survey, about 28% of people 65 and older live by themselves, including slightly fewer than 6 million men and slightly more than 10 million women. (The figure doesn’t include seniors living in institutions, primarily assisted living and nursing homes.)

By contrast, 1 in 10 older Americans lived on their own in 1950.

This is, first and foremost, an older women’s issue, because women outlive men and because they’re less likely to remarry after being widowed or divorcing. Twenty-seven percent of women ages 65 to 74 live alone, compared with 21% of men. After age 75, an astonishing 43% of women live alone, compared with only 24% for men.

The majority — 80% — of people who live alone after age 65 are divorced or widowed, twice the rate of the general population, according to KFF’s analysis of 2022 census data. More than 20% have incomes below $13,590, the federal poverty line in 2022, while 27% make between that and $27,180, twice the poverty level.

***

Of course, their experiences vary considerably. How older adults living alone are faring depends on their financial status, their housing, their networks of friends and family members, and resources in the communities where they live.

Attitudes can make a difference. Many older adults relish being independent, while others feel abandoned. It’s common for loneliness to come and go, even among people who have caring friends and family members.

“I like being alone better than I like being in relationships,” said Janice Chavez of Denver, who said she’s in her 70s. “I don’t have to ask anybody for anything. If I want to sleep late, I sleep late. If I want to stay up and watch TV, I can. I do whatever I want to do. I love the independence and the freedom.”

Chavez is twice divorced and has been on her own since 1985. As a girl, she wanted to be married and have lots of kids, but “I picked jerks,” she said. She talks to her daughter, Tracy, every day, and is close to several neighbors. She lives in the home she grew up in, inherited from her mother in 1991. Her only sibling, a brother, died a dozen years ago.

In Chicago, Norington is wondering whether to stay in her senior building or move to the suburbs after her car was vandalized this year. “Since the pandemic, fear has almost paralyzed me from getting out as much as I would like,” she told me.

She’s a take-charge person who has been deeply involved in her community. In 2016, Norington started an organization for single Black seniors in Chicago that sponsored speed dating events and monthly socials for several years. She volunteered with a local medical center doing outreach to seniors and brought health and wellness classes to her building. She organized cruises for friends and acquaintances to the Caribbean and Hawaii in 2022 and 2023.

Now, every morning, Norington sends a spiritual text message to 40 people, who often respond with messages of their own. “It helps me to feel less alone, to feel a sense of inclusion,” she said.

In Maine, Ken Elliott, 77, a retired psychology professor, lives by himself in a house in Mount Vernon, a town of 1,700 people 20 miles northwest of the state capital. He never married and doesn’t have children. His only living relative is an 80-year-old brother in California.

For several years, Elliott has tried to raise the profile of solo agers among Maine policymakers and senior organizations. This began when Elliott started inquiring about resources available to older adults living by themselves, like him. How were they getting to doctor appointments? Who was helping when they came home from the hospital and needed assistance? What if they needed extra help in the home but couldn’t afford it?

To Elliott’s surprise, he found this group wasn’t on anyone’s radar, and he began advocating on solo agers’ behalf.

Now, Elliott is thinking about how to put together a team of people who can help him as he ages in place — and how to build a stronger sense of community. “Aging without a mythic family support system — which everyone assumes people have — is tough for everybody,” Elliott said.

In Manhattan, Lester Shane, 72, who never married or had children, lives by himself in an 11-by-14-foot studio apartment on the third floor of a building without an elevator. He didn’t make much money during a long career as an actor, a writer, and a theater director, and he’s not sure how he’ll make ends meet once he stops teaching at Pace University.

“There are days when I’m carrying my groceries up three flights of stairs when I think, ‘This is really hard,’” Shane told me. Although his health is pretty good, he knows that won’t last forever.

“I’m on all the lists for senior housing — all lottery situations. Most of the people I’ve talked to said you will probably die before your number comes up,” he said with mordant humor.

Then, Shane turned serious. “I’m old and getting older, and whatever problems I have now are only going to get worse,” he said. As is the case for many older adults who live alone, his friends are getting older and having difficulties of their own.

The prospect of having no one he knows well to turn to is alarming, Shane admitted: “Underneath that is fear.”

Kate Shulamit Fagan, 80, has lived on her own since 1979, after two divorces. “It was never my intention to live alone,” she told me in a lengthy phone conversation. “I expected that I would meet someone and start another relationship and somehow sail off into the rest of my life. It’s been exceedingly hard to give up that expectation.”

When I first spoke to Fagan, in mid-March, she was having difficulty in Philadelphia, where she’d moved two years earlier to be close to one of her sons. “I’ve been really lonely recently,” she told me, describing how difficult it was to adjust to a new life in a new place. Although her son was attentive, Fagan desperately missed the close circle of friends she’d left behind in St. Petersburg, Florida, where she’d lived and worked for 30 years.

Four and a half months later, when I called Fagan again, she’d returned to St. Petersburg and was renting a one-bedroom apartment in a senior building in the center of the city. She’d celebrated her birthday there with 10 close friends and was meeting people in her building. “I’m not completely settled, but I feel fabulous,” she told me.

What accounted for the change? “Here, I know if I want to go out or I need help, quite a few people would be there for me,” Fagan said. “The fear is gone.”

As I explore the lives of older adults living alone in the next several months, I’m eager to hear from people who are in this situation. If you’d like to share your stories, please send them to khn.navigatingaging@gmail.com.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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