The Hamilton Spectator
Why we can’t dismiss caring for the old
Our ageist and frailist attitudes must change to ensure better care for everyone
Should medicine be ageist?
A young trainee doctor recently proposed to me that it should. Health care is overstretched, she argued. “We can’t do everything for everyone, so why spend money on old people, who have little chance of benefit?”
For her, ageism is not all that bad — in fact, it’s a practical response to limited resources.
I’m not persuaded. Ageism is not benign. We fail older people when we treat them, as typically we do, in ways that are at odds with how aging works. Ageism masks our need to do better.
The challenge is the complexity of aging. With age, almost all diseases become more common.
Health care has become pretty good at assembling teams that specialize in specific problems, creating focused, subspecialized care.
And patients do best when their single illness, no matter how complicated and no matter what their age, is their main problem. Subspecialized care may work very well for them.
But as we age, we’re more likely to have more than one illness and to take more than one medication. And as we age, the illnesses that we have are more likely to restrict how we live — not just outright disability, but in our moving more slowly or taking care in where we walk, or what we wear or where we go.
Not everyone of the same age has the same number of health problems. Those with the most health problems are frail. And when they’re frail, they do worse. Often, those with frailty do worse because health care remains focused on single illness. Our success with a single-illness approach has biased us to think that this is the approach we should always take.
When frail people show up with all their health and social problems, we see them as illegitimate or unsuited for what we do.
So would the young doctor be right if, instead of restricting care in old people, she simply opted for restricting care for frail people? Should frailism be the new ageism?
For health care, such a notion would be self-defeating. If frail patients are unsuited to the care that doctors provide, we must provide more suitable care.
Frail older adults consume a lot of care. Far better that those of us in the health system treat them as our very best customers. That would improve care for everyone.
No one admitted to hospital benefits from poor sleep, but (mostly) we get away with it in our fitter patients. Not so in the frail, in whom it leads to worse outcomes: longer stays, more confusion, more medications, more falls and a higher death rate.
No one benefits from being immobilized too long. No one benefits from not having medications reviewed, or from poor nutrition, or inadequate pain control, or getting admitted when care at home would be better, or in not clearly discussing goals of care. Just because the health system mostly gets away with it in fitter patients is no reason to forgo change.
Changing routines to improve care will benefit everyone. But it won’t happen if we see frailty as an acceptable form of ageism. We need to invest in better care and in better understanding how to design, test and implement it.
As important as subspecialties are, by definition each subspecialty group benefits a small fraction of people. The skills required to provide expert general care, particularly for frail older adults, have been less celebrated. Compared to disease research, aging and frailty are barely on the funding radar screen.
In any guise, ageism can be insidious. We don’t have to go far to find it. I find it in myself when I’m in a long line. It’s not the science of how movement becomes slow that saves me then — it’s realizing that slowness is not a moral failing, much less one directed at my busyness.
What we do in our health system now fails older people who might benefit if we provided better care. In that way, it fails us all.
Attitudes must change. Medicine should not be ageist. It shouldn’t even be frailist. We must work to provide better care for frail older adults, especially when they are ill.