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Situational vulnerability
EDITORIAL
Situational Vulnerability Priscilla Ebersole, PhD, RN, FAAN
M
y interest in situations that make one vulnerable was piqued during an American Society on Aging conference in New Orleans last year. I dropped my wallet when retrieving luggage, and with it went my identity—driver’s license, Medicare and health access, credit cards, cash, and everything other than the innate intelligence that allows me to function in this society. Yes, I know, I should always keep mad money in my bra or shoe, but I’m naturally an optimist and never anticipate the worst. When I realized my situation, my innate intelligence suddenly vanished, too, and I wandered aimlessly for several minutes, thinking I certainly would stumble onto my wallet. Then I began to retrace my steps while beginning to realize that a wallet would not likely be left untouched where it fell. I reported my loss to UAL personnel, and the attendant advised me to go to the airport police. That I did immediately. The officer was less than interested in my predicament, and I still was discombobulated enough that he undoubtedly thought I should not be traveling alone under any circumstances. He mellowed after a few minutes of taking my report and advised me to call a family member. Of course, I didn’t have a dime (ha!) and had forgotten my phone card access code and my son’s phone number. I thought all these things were second nature, but the situation eroded my confidence and my concentration. I was escorted out of the sterile and somewhat threatening cubicle and allowed to use the phone in the airport security office to call my son. I did remember his number, and several officers in the office were helpful and friendly. They joked about whether my son would wire me money or not. I assured them I had been a good mother and was convinced
4
he would. Two of them walked to the Western Union office with me and confirmed my situation as the attendant there would, of course, have needed identification before giving me cash. Two days later, a note to me was posted on the message board at the conference. A limousine driver had found my wallet and would leave it with the hotel concierge. He had found my Geriatric Nursing card in my wallet and reasoned that I would be attending the ASA conference. He had left his number, so I called and thanked him profusely and asked that he keep the cash (about $200) for his trouble. He replied that $40 would be sufficient. I floated euphorically through the remainder of the conference with a beatific smile, I think. I could go on and on with this story, but it is sufficient to emphasize the necessity of “splinting” when you are vulnerable, a concept of Mary Opal Wolanin’s. When you are limping about physically, emotionally, or intellectually, you must have someone to reinforce and strengthen your abilities. Sometimes this splinting occurs with couples— each leans on the other for certain strengths, but one partner’s abilities collapse when the other dies. This story has several morals. I will not keep you by listing them, but you who work with elders see them in action repeatedly. Actually, they arise with anyone who is feeling threatened and uncertain. At those times, the quality and availability of the individuals in the milieu are all important and make the difference between restoration and a continual deterioration of function. Copyright © 2002 by Mosby, Inc. 0197-4572/2002/$35.00 + 0 34/1/122563 doi:10.1067/mgn.2002.122563
Geriatric Nursing 2002 • Volume 23 • Number 1
Situational Vulnerability Priscilla Ebersole, PhD, RN, FAAN
M
y interest in situations that make one vulnerable was piqued during an American Society on Aging conference in New Orleans last year. I dropped my wallet when retrieving luggage, and with it went my identity—driver’s license, Medicare and health access, credit cards, cash, and everything other than the innate intelligence that allows me to function in this society. Yes, I know, I should always keep mad money in my bra or shoe, but I’m naturally an optimist and never anticipate the worst. When I realized my situation, my innate intelligence suddenly vanished, too, and I wandered aimlessly for several minutes, thinking I certainly would stumble onto my wallet. Then I began to retrace my steps while beginning to realize that a wallet would not likely be left untouched where it fell. I reported my loss to UAL personnel, and the attendant advised me to go to the airport police. That I did immediately. The officer was less than interested in my predicament, and I still was discombobulated enough that he undoubtedly thought I should not be traveling alone under any circumstances. He mellowed after a few minutes of taking my report and advised me to call a family member. Of course, I didn’t have a dime (ha!) and had forgotten my phone card access code and my son’s phone number. I thought all these things were second nature, but the situation eroded my confidence and my concentration. I was escorted out of the sterile and somewhat threatening cubicle and allowed to use the phone in the airport security office to call my son. I did remember his number, and several officers in the office were helpful and friendly. They joked about whether my son would wire me money or not. I assured them I had been a good mother and was convinced
4
he would. Two of them walked to the Western Union office with me and confirmed my situation as the attendant there would, of course, have needed identification before giving me cash. Two days later, a note to me was posted on the message board at the conference. A limousine driver had found my wallet and would leave it with the hotel concierge. He had found my Geriatric Nursing card in my wallet and reasoned that I would be attending the ASA conference. He had left his number, so I called and thanked him profusely and asked that he keep the cash (about $200) for his trouble. He replied that $40 would be sufficient. I floated euphorically through the remainder of the conference with a beatific smile, I think. I could go on and on with this story, but it is sufficient to emphasize the necessity of “splinting” when you are vulnerable, a concept of Mary Opal Wolanin’s. When you are limping about physically, emotionally, or intellectually, you must have someone to reinforce and strengthen your abilities. Sometimes this splinting occurs with couples— each leans on the other for certain strengths, but one partner’s abilities collapse when the other dies. This story has several morals. I will not keep you by listing them, but you who work with elders see them in action repeatedly. Actually, they arise with anyone who is feeling threatened and uncertain. At those times, the quality and availability of the individuals in the milieu are all important and make the difference between restoration and a continual deterioration of function. Copyright © 2002 by Mosby, Inc. 0197-4572/2002/$35.00 + 0 34/1/122563 doi:10.1067/mgn.2002.122563
Geriatric Nursing 2002 • Volume 23 • Number 1