I no longer feel abnormal for wanting to work with older people, not children
http://www.theguardian.com/social-care- ... e-children
Excerpts ...
At 20 years of age I am only just embarking upon a career I have so much passion, enthusiasm and hope for. Health and social care have been a major part of my life for as long as I can remember, and so it feels only natural that they are the two industries in which I am pursuing a career. I was born with Arthrogryposis, a physical disability which affects my joints, meaning that I use an electric wheelchair.
I’ve always felt compelled to work with older people, even from a young age. It was just something I knew I wanted to do. This probably stemmed from being lucky enough to have my great grandparents still alive for a lot of my childhood, while also being extremely close to my grandparents. I spent a lot of time during my childhood with them and I loved it. As time went on, naturally, my great grandparents became older and their frailty and need for support increased.
Some of my memories around this time centre around hospitals, care homes and Zimmer frames. These environments didn’t scare or upset me, but I was always aware that my relatives were bored, excluded and patronised, solely because of the way the ageing process had affected them. The care homes in which they now lived were not part of the wider community, but islands of the old.
As I grew up and my older relatives passed away, I definitely shied away from my feelings. Most people think that babies, children and young people are the ones whom we should focus on and given love and attention. Investment must be made in them, and I should naturally feel a moral duty to work with children. These commonly-held views often meant that, if I ever remarked on how incredible and interesting I found older people, I would be met with glares of confusion and dismay. How could I possibly prefer to spend my time with a 90-year-old than a nine month old? These sorts of experiences made me feel embarrassed and abnormal, so I buried my ambitions away.
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It wasn’t until I got in to my late teens and started my BMedSci health and human sciences degree at the University of Sheffield that I rediscovered my passion. Just before going to university, I went on a trip with my secondary school to Lourdes in France. Students went as volunteers and dedicated their time there to the visiting “pilgrims” who were mainly older people. I genuinely loved the time I spent there, and for the first time I felt confident enough to acknowledge what my future career would entail.
After starting university, I realised there were finally people around me who shared my views, ideals and passion. I unearthed a whole new way of thinking and embraced my own feelings, knowing that working with older people was just as valid as becoming a paediatrician. I no longer felt like the odd one out, or like I wanted to devote my life to a lost, unappreciated cause. I started to engage more with mentors and lecturers who directed and encouraged me to stick at it. This allowed my knowledge and passion to flourish and I gained confidence in myself and what I stood, and still stand for. From this gradual learning and maturing process, I have become involved with volunteering opportunities, city projects and social movements. I enjoy all of what I do so much.
I have just entered my final year. From an incredibly nervous undergraduate, to an interested and somewhat obsessed third year, it’s been quite the journey. I’ve discovered skills I didn’t even dream I could have, become so unbelievably passionate about the care and quality of life that older people experience, and met people who have changed my life. There have been, as with all worthwhile things, times when I have thought “I want to quit”, and cried myself to sleep. But there’s always something or someone that proves that isn’t the way for me.