Dilemmas

this week's problem

Colin's 80-year-old aunt, Diana, is still alert and fiercely independent. But although she used to be meticulously clean and tidy, she now lives in chaos. She wears smelly clothes and her kitchen is becoming insanitary - food past its sell-by date, unmopped spills on the floor. She refuses offers of help. Should Colin tackle her before she loses respect in the community or the social services call?

One of the few joys of old age is the chance to become truly yourself. Who cares any more if your stockings are laddered, your hair is dirty or you have peed on your skirt? Who cares if you live in squalor, or choose to eat mouldy cheese? Age may mean physical frailty, but for a few it also means mental indomitability, a moment at last when the mind is preoccupied only with things that matter, not with things such as washing the net curtains or scrubbing the step.

Colin's aunt sounds like just one of these old ladies - and no doubt her independence scares the daylights out of him. A strong woman can put the wind up most men; a strong old woman, and men can feel hopelessly inadequate, often longing, as Colin does, to control what he sees as a witch-like power.

It can only be this, rather than kindness, that prompts him to cloak his anxieties in fear about what other people think. It is not up to him to protect her "standing in the community", whatever that may be, nor to start fussing about her insanitary kitchen. Many a teenager lives in total yukdom, but Colin, I'm sure, would think twice before barging in on a squalid nephew's stinking pad and "tackling" him about his hygiene.

Colin should remember, too, that his aunt comes from a generation riddled with bacteria, a generation that can tell whether food is off simply by smelling it. His aunt scrapes the mould off the cheese, and the jam, and the yoghurt, and scoffs the rest, undamaged. She probably boils things a great deal, too, and if the fish isn't entirely fresh, there's nothing a large dollop of curry sauce won't conceal. She comes from a hardier generation than her weedy nephew, who probably won't eat a packet of crisps if it is a day over its limit.

His last excuse is the implication that the tidy, neat and hygienic aunt of the past would not approve of the sloppy and messy aunt of today. But who is the real aunt? Is it the sloppy, incontinent person she was at a year old, covered in baby food? Is it the scruffy, pongy teenager she was at 17, the pernickety, tidy woman of some years back, or the smelly, shambolic, determined creature she is today?

There is no "real" person by whom all other phases in her life must be judged. Colin's aunt has changed, as we all do. The aunt he knew has gone. He must relate to this new person; and if he loves her, the most he could possibly say is what he might affectionately say to a friend: "Your kitchen's a disgrace," or even: "Darling, when did you last get that coat cleaned? It stinks!" But he won"t "tackle" her as if she were a child, or only point these things out because he is frightened of what the neighbours will say. He will say these things because he regards her as an equal. And though the words may be the same, the tone of his voice and his body language will make all the difference between causing offence and humiliation, and making her feel like a much-loved pal with whom he can be spontaneous and honest.

Colin's aunt doesn't care about social services, sell-by dates or standing in the community. Why should Colin presume to care on her behalf? If he can't face eating in her kitchen, he should invite her to a meal in his own home, keeping the air freshener nearby if she arrives in whiffy clothes. A smell isn't a good enough reason to risk a relationship with someone as admirable as his aunt.

readers' responses

All Colin can do is write to the social services stating the case and saying he realises the problem. No amount of persuasion will move her out of her rut. They won't do anything, but he should photocopy the letter and show it to interfering busybodies. Then there will be a crisis: she'll slip on her filthy kitchen floor or something, and while she is in hospital he can clean the place from top to bottom. By the time she comes home, social services will have her on their register and she will have a home help once a week. It sounds awful, but the elderly receive help more readily after they have lain on the kitchen floor for 12 hours, face to face with the mouse droppings.

Mrs D Muirhead

London

I had exactly this dilemma with my aunt. When I realised what was happening I descended on her for a week. I blitzed the house clean, took all her clothes to the launderette and dry-cleaners, turned out the drawers and cupboards and washed or replaced her curtains. She looked a bit amazed and kept saying I didn't need to do it, but she took it in good part because she knew I loved her and wanted to do my best for her.

It didn't do a tremendous amount to help the respect she got from her community; her hairdresser eventually refused to take her, which made matters worse. Her doctor was unhelpful, even hostile to my efforts, which I suppose he dismissed as interference, and the involvement of the social services was never even suggested. But I think she and I were both glad to show her neighbours that someone cared about her.

I think Colin should be as forceful as possible. Cleanliness is a virtue, and in future he will be able to look back on having tried without a bad conscience.

Anon

Norwich

I am not 80 yet but alone, independent, self-sufficient and alert (I think). I trust I will stay that way. It is what I think of me that matters.

Colin says his aunt is "independent and mentally alert" - a touch patronising? Lives in the past, eh? So what, she is more at home in it; that was when she "lived", after all. A "disgusting kitchen", which may or may not be a threat to health: again, so what? If she doesn't care, why should he?

When one reaches an independent and mentally alert 80, happy with each day that comes and with no responsibilities, one can pop one's clogs at any time in the blissful knowledge that it does not matter. Who is Colin to disturb such satisfaction?

Every man (and woman) has the right to go to the devil their own way, providing there is no detrimental effect on others - and his social standing and personal priorities do not qualify as detriment. Praise be, I have no nephews to presume from their limited experience and understanding to interfere with the way I choose to live.

Miss R G H Dunn

Surrey

As a GP I would say that the assumption that Colin's aunt is mentally well may be incorrect, as this scenario may certainly be the presentation of a dementing illness or depression. However, if this is not the case then I would strongly encourage readers to respect the ability and right of elderly people to live in whatever fashion they wish. The tendency to treat the elderly as miscreant teenagers when their behaviour does not conform is patronising and wrong.

I suspect the closing passage of the letter reveals the main motive: Colin is perhaps most concerned about how his aunt's behaviour reflects on his own reputation.

Dr B A Woodhouse

North Yorkshire