Unlike most of the female population, I hate shopping. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say I hate going into stores, because Amazon and I have an “up close and personal” relationship. But there is one store that will get me out of the house in a minute–my local garden centre.
As much as I love it, there is one aspect that infuriates me. Their carts stick together. I try tugging cart after cart, and either they don’t move, or three of them come at once. I don’t need three carts. I need one. Now. So I tug and pull and yank and drag to no avail. Then my husband comes along, and with a flick of his wrist, secures a single cart for me. Which also infuriates me, because I want to do it myself.
Helplessness is the second of the three plagues of the elderly, and it comes in many forms. Loss of mobility and cognitive decline can make many regular activities difficult, unsafe or impossible.
However…
Many times, we as caregivers create a forced helplessness.
I saw a podcast where an elderly lady with dementia asked her children not to help her on with her coat. “If you keep doing that, there might come a day where I forget how to do it.” Although that day might come anyway, I love this lady’s spirit. Keep doing what you can while you can.
In long term care, the activities of daily living (bathing, dressing, toileting, transferring, eating) as well as more complex tasks such as handling medication and finances, cooking and housekeeping are covered. The problem is that not all elders living in care need help with all these issues. What happens in a short time is forced helplessness. It becomes easier to comply than to struggle to maintain independence.
Even elders living independently struggle with this. 
I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly independent person. I didn’t learn to drive until I was in my 40s, and my naturally timid nature kept me from trying new things. But as arthritis stole some abilities from me, I have become fiercely independent about maintaining what I have. My poor husband, who has the soul of a gentleman, has learned not to open doors, pull back chairs, get things for me unless I ask or help me on with my coat. If I can do it, I will do it as long as I can. I walk at least 30 minutes and 6,000 steps a day (often more) because I need to move to maintain mobility. It hurts; it’s not fun, but I feel immense satisfaction each time I have completed my daily exercise.
So how do we fight against enforced helplessness?
Encourage
Look for pleasant ways to encourage independence. Give choices and invite participation. “Would you like a barbecue tonight? Okay, could you help me with the salad?”
Ask advice
“Grandma, what should I do about my boyfriend problem? What do you think about this outfit? I’m worried about this political situation. What’s your opinion?”
Help appropriately
Ensure, as a care partner, you aren’t “helping” when help isn’t needed. (If I drop something, I am able to pick it up. It may take me a minute, but I can do it.)
Modify
Some activities are no longer possible. But some things, with modification, can still happen. I can no longer climb in and out of a small bay boat with motor to go fishing. However, I can walk on and off a larger bowrider with some help, so I still get to go fishing every year. I can’t look after my grandson by myself for the day, but I have the toys, bubbles and park next door to have fun with him when he comes with his parents. As a care partner, do some “out of the box” thinking to make favourite activities a possibility.
The opposite of helplessness is independence, and it’s a gift we can give our elders in many forms.