Elder Abuse

Abuse in all of its permutations has been in the news for years. Some forms get more press than others, and only in an extreme case do you hear about elder abuse. In college, I delved into a research project on the topic and found myself horrified at the tales of caretakers allowing geriatric patients to lie in their own excrement for days at a time, failing to provide proper medical attention, withholding food as punishment or perpetrating horrific acts of violence upon their charges.


But what about when the elders are the abusers? Do we hear about when the patient turns on his caretaker and inflicts violence or threatens to do so? What steps must a caretaker follow to ensure safety – for themselves and the elderly? I never really considered it a possibility until today. A surreal and shockingly unexpected episode took place in my kitchen this afternoon that I am loath to forget for some time.

My 83-year-old father took a swing at me…with his metal cane... because I couldn’t understand or follow what he was saying to me. The conversation began innocently enough; he closed the patio door and said he was going to spray a hornet’s nest. When I inquired as to the location of said hornet’s nest, my father suddenly reversed in age about 40 years and began loudly spewing obscenities at me, asking if I ever used my head for something other than growing hair. When I admonished him to stop yelling at me, that I was simply asking a question, he replied, “I’m going to beat some sense into you,” and swung his cane at my head.
My reflexes thankfully kicked in and I swatted the cane away before he actually landed a blow. I admit, somewhat reluctantly, that I immediately saw red and lost my cool, daring him to try the attack again. I reminded him that I am not my mother and he is not allowed to treat me in that manner. It was an instant change that took place…it was like he was somewhere else, in another time and he returned to just his usual grumpy self.




My father physically abused my mother for many years. I have a scar in the middle of my back as a result of me jumping between them when he brandished a butcher knife at her when I was 11. I have vivid memories of this six foot four inch man violently shoving and slapping my four foot 11 inch mother to the ground. He verbally abused her every day and once threw a bowl of stew against the wall above her head because it wasn’t hot enough.


Upon meeting my father these days, people comment about what a nice man he is and how sweet he is. They simply cannot fathom the rage that he carries from his childhood, from military service and other pressures he endured in his lifetime. I once shared with one of my best friends the kind of childhood I experienced and she refused to believe me, citing that he was always such a sweetheart. Sure…he was nice to everyone…except his family.


The past year presented a myriad of situations, issues and problems that I handled to the absolute best of my ability, but this one really stumped me. How can I possibly allow my daughter to witness violence coming from her grandfather, whom she adores? Fortunately, she was playing with her friends outside when this whole thing went down. But what if there is a next time? And what if next time, she sees him swing at me or hears him denigrate me? There is no explanation that is acceptable and I find myself embarrassed that it happened at all.


I never experienced physical abuse from a partner and always swore to myself that I would not tolerate it. But I think I gained some insight today into why women stay in abusive relationships…shame, embarrassment and humiliation are great motivators to keep secrets. But if something is ignored, it is likely to repeat itself until it properly mitigated – it’s true with abuse, maintaining a vehicle or a nasty rash.


Following a cooling off period, he apologized, but with little sincerity. I explained that he doesn’t just get to say “sorry” and forget about it. It must be at the forefront of his mind, so that his temper doesn’t become uncontrollable again. But I fear that even if he’s not losing his temper, he just may well be losing his mind.