Vulnerability Can Only Be Created By Others.

Distressing reports last week about the rape of a nursing home resident elicited a justifiable outpouring of outrage and condemnation, but it’s far from the first time serious concerns around safeguarding in residential homes and care facilities have come to light. Demands by the public and politicians alike to do better by those we often consider the most defenceless and weak in our society, have been understandably resounding — we must protect the vulnerable.

Older people have as much right to feel safe as the rest of us but requiring more care doesn’t warrant the minimising language we so often use to describe them. No one wants to be thought of as defenceless or weak, and no one inherently is once they are cared for according to their needs. The use — and very concept — of the word vulnerable should be reconsidered; how we define it, and to whom we apply it.

One of my first jobs at the age of 16, was what was then known as a geriatric nurses’ aid. An unflattering term for all involved which would presumably fall under a care assistant heading today. My role consisted of many essential daily tasks in the facility — some couldn’t be described as pleasant in any world — emptying full commodes, the contents of which often trickled into the crooks of my thumbs, disposing of adult sanitary products and cleaning bathrooms of all the inevitable consequences of bodily functions we like to pretend don’t exist when we’re young. Other duties, such as helping residents with reduced mobility wash, get dressed or even eat, were far more rewarding, as they involved interaction, conversation, and dry thumbs.

Not everyone was capable of communication (or maybe they just didn’t want to talk to me), but others were fully compos mentis, and glad of the company. Thirty years later, and I still remember Joan, a very old lady — admittedly at 16, anyone over 50 was a veritable relic — who lived on the third floor, surrounded by a lifetime whittled down to three shelves; a few carefully chosen photographs, a handful of knick-knacks and books, which post her disabling stroke she was unlikely to read again, all now fighting for limited space with the detritus of old age and infirmity.

One of the highlights of my day was sitting beside her, chatting and helping her eat, she was sharp as a tack, and told me why she hated the word vulnerable.

“A cracked cup is vulnerable” she said. “I’m not, but I can be made vulnerable by other people. If you didn’t feed me, I’d starve, but that would be your fault, not mine”.

I often walked home from work after dark, a very slight teenage girl in a nurse’s uniform, and one evening a man walked past, leaning in uncomfortably close and whispering in my ear “Do you do house calls?”, before winking and walking away chuckling.

He probably thought it was harmless and amusing, and perhaps hadn’t realised how young I was. His behaviour made me feel vulnerable, but that was his fault, not mine.

The older I get, this more this simple observation makes sense to me; vulnerability is not a condition, a state or a fact like being small, very tall, or coming from a certain place. People are not innately vulnerable; they can only be made so by the behaviour or actions of others. Lots of people are often described as vulnerable; babies and children, women walking alone, a person at risk of eviction, those in care or with a disability. Except they’re not: it takes the malice, mistake or lack of respect of another to create a state of vulnerability.

What we have seen, and continue to see, not only in our nursing homes, but in our child protection, disability and health services, is a fundamental lack of due process and care from the very top down. Vulnerability has no place in a properly functioning society, but it is being systemically enabled.

The main difference between the young and the old is that only one group knows what it’s like to be the other; the old were once young, but the young have yet to walk in their shoes. Well, they might not walk, they might shuffle, limp, or maybe just sit. If they’re lucky, because becoming old is a destination not everyone has the privilege to reach.

Much of life is not for the faint of heart, and we need to do better by our elderly, but also by our sick, our children and young people, and those with additional needs. Moreover, we need to remind ourselves that vulnerability is not a flaw, a weakness or something one brings on oneself, and it can only be inflicted by the actions of others.