Category Archives: Health

No-one should ever have to feel like they are not worth helping

Richard Turner and his volunteer befriender, Delia Jones
Richard Turner and his volunteer befriender, Delia Jones

“No-one should ever have to feel like they are not worth helping…”

I saw these striking words on a postcard displayed at a recent event to celebrate volunteering. With the massive cuts in public spending and the unprecedented reform of welfare, it’s not hard to see why vulnerable people might think they don’t deserve any support.

The words, written by someone with experience of volunteering, referred to the vital work of London-based charity the Octavia Foundation. In full, the handwritten postcard read: “No-one should ever have to feel like they are not worth helping and Octavia does such a good job of making sure that doesn’t happen.”

The event was Octavia’s annual volunteer awards, honouring some of the 250 local people who have given their time to others through the charity over the last year. Actor Tamsin Greig presented awards to those who support work with local people affected by ill health, social isolation, unemployment or poverty.

The foundation operates in the west London boroughs of Westminster, Kensington and Chelsea, Hammersmith and Fulham, supporting older people, working with young people, focusing on training and employment and debt advice. It runs regular groups and activities as well as some inspiring one-off projects which I’ve written about in the past.

The foundation works in one of the most affluent parts of the capital, but there is much for the charity to do in the pockets of deprivation that also exist.

I helped judge the charity’s awards, reading some incredible testimonies from people who benefit from the help of volunteers.

Delia Jones, who volunteers as a befriender for example, was highly commended. Delia was nominated by Richard, who she visits and who was involved in a serious car accident almost 40 years ago – both are pictured above.

Richard’s mother Joyce Turner, 95, who also nominated Delia, explained: “What Delia does for Richard is vital. He will tell Delia what kind of book he wants, as we have a lot of different kinds and we arrange them alphabetically so she can find them. Delia seems exactly right, and we love her visits because it gives Richard such pleasure to see her. The importance of her visit every week is that he only goes out three times a week, and if its raining or bad weather, she is the only thing that he looks forward to. She never lets us down and we can trust her.”

With welfare cuts and a squeeze on public sector funding, many support services are under threat so the work of volunteers is vital in helping society’s most vulnerable people. Some of the most innovative ideas – and inspiring, unsung heroes – are found in small, community-based projects that often don’t get the attention they deserve. The recent Octavia awards are an opportunity to put that right and focus on the important work carried out in local areas.

A full list of winners and background to the awards is on the Octavia Foundation website.

Telling the untold stories of austerity


Women in Croxteth, Liverpool, discuss the impact of cuts on communities, part of the research for the new book, Austerity Bites

Do you know what austerity really means?

Here’s a definition from the Collins Dictionary, as quoted in Mary O’Hara’s commanding new book on the subject, Austerity Bites: “…difficult economic conditions created by government measures to reduce the budget deficit, especially by reducing public expenditure: a period of austerity/austerity measures.”

But that literal definition, and the words of politicians using the rhetoric of austerity to mask the harsh impact of public spending cuts, conveys nothing of the human cost of the unprecedented reform of the welfare state.

Austerity Bites redresses that imbalance. I don’t usually do reviews on this site, but this timely book demands attention.

Reading this book means you join the award-winning journalist O’Hara in her “journey to the sharp end of cuts in the UK”. Based on a 12-month trip around the country meeting diverse people affected by cuts as reforms were introduced in 2012 and 2013, O’Hara gives a platform to untold stories of hardship.

O’Hara’s book suggests, “austerity” has become an acceptable rhetoric, one that glosses over the harsh impact of welfare reform – as in “cuts hurt but in the age of austerity, what else can we do?” The creeping normalisation of food poverty and food banks, as explored in this book, is shameful.

While an intricate explanation is given of the political and economic context, it is the lives of those whose voices are rarely given a platform – the homeless, the disabled, the young among them – that are the focus here.

Crisscrossing the country, the picture is one of political classes living in a “bubble” untouched by the harsh reality of life on the front line of Austerity UK; a massive chasm between the people suffering from the impact of cuts and abolition of vital benefits and the people making the decisions to abolish that support.

People talk of “breaking point”, “existing not living”, their “desperate situation”; the book does much to explode the myth of benefit Britain. A fairly comprehensive catalogue of unfairness is chronicled in Austerity Bites – the disabled, for example, are shown to be bearing the brunt of cuts, the vulnerable are made more vulnerable and the poorer become poorer.

As one man, Dec, who O’Hara meets on a Luton estate tells the author: “Do I deserve better? Do other people deserve better? I think they do.”

Unsettling, but vital, reading, this book lays bare the real, true story of austerity.

Charity helpline supports abuse victims with learning disabilities

If Simon Tovey gets anxious before using the bathroom, you might assume his panic is linked to his learning disability. Maybe the public convenience is unfamiliar?

Yet Tovey’s fear is the result of the abuse he suffered at Winterbourne View assessment and treatment unit. He featured in the 2011 Panorama expose of the privately run unit near Bristol where he was kicked, punched, verbally tormented – and threatened with having his head put down the toilet.

Tovey’s mother, Ann Earley, says of her son, 40: “The Simon that returned to us was not the same one who left. He was profoundly affected and unable to put into words how he felt. He has a long-term fear of toilets – that’s just one small thing. The other impact is incalculable, like his fear about what’s going to happen next.”

Three years on from the Winterborne View scandal, the effect on residents has been huge – but a specialist helpline offers support for them and their families. Read the rest of my piece on the work of the charity Respond on the Guardian’s social care network.

Ann Earley and her son Simon, who was abused at Winterbourne View specialist unit in 2011
Ann Earley and her son Simon, who was abused at Winterbourne View specialist unit in 2011

Indignation and initiative vs institutional inertia

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This is a post that originally appeared on the #107days of action campaign site, raising awareness about the death of Connor Sparrowhawk who died a preventable death in specialist NHS unit last year:

Imagine if you had £3,500 a week to run a campaign, consider the awareness you could raise with even a tenth of that.

Now multiply £3,500 – the average weekly cost of a place at an assessment and treatment unit (ATU) – by 3,250 – the number of learning disabled people in such units. That’s an indicator of the costs involved in using controversial Winterbourne View-style settings.

Just over a year ago, 18-year-old Connor Sparrowhawk, aka Laughing Boy or LB, was admitted to a Southern Health NHS Trust ATU where he died an avoidable death 107 days later.

In contrast to the vast amounts spent by commissioners on places like the one where LB died, the #JusticeforLB campaign sparked by his death is ‘funded’ solely by goodwill. No PR team crafting on-message missives, no policy wonks collating information, no consultants advising on publicity.

#107days of action began on Wednesday 19 March, a year to the day Connor went into Slade House, and continues until the first anniversary of his death, Friday 4 July 2014. Half the aim – and I’ll come to the other half at the end of this post – is to “inspire, collate and share positive actions being taken to support #JusticeforLB and all young dudes”. The goal is to capture the “energy, support and outrage” ignited by LB’s death.This post, around halfway through #107days and written from the perspective of having reported on #JusticeforLB at the start of the campaign, looks at what’s been achieved so far.

I’m not describing the “abject failure” of progress to rid social care of Winterbourne-style settings – care minister Norman Lamb’s words – the sort of apologies for care where compassion is often as absent as any actual assessment or treatment. Nor do I write about the errors at Southern (you can read here about the enforcement action from health regulators after a string of failures). I want to explain, from my interested observer’s standpoint, the impact of #107days and what might set it apart from other awareness drives.

It’s a timely moment to do this. It is now three years since Winterbourne, less than a week after Panorama yet again highlighted abuse and neglect in care homes and a few days since new information on the use of restraint and medication for people in units like LB’s. The campaign reflects not only the importance of #JusticeforLB, but also an unmet need to finally change attitudes towards vulnerable people (and it’s not as if we don’t know what “good care” looks like).

There is a palpable sense that the #107days campaign is different. Talking to journalists, families, activists, academics, bloggers and social care providers, the word “campaign” doesn’t adequately define #107days. It’s an, organic, evolving movement for change, a collaborative wave of effort involving a remarkably diverse range of folk including families, carers, people with learning disabilities, advocates, academics and learning disability nurses.

It’s worth noting the campaign’s global reach. LB’s bus postcard has been pictured all over the UK and as far away as Canada, America, Ireland, France, Majorca and São Paulo. LB has touched a bus driver in Vancouver and brownies in New Zealand.

Because of the blog run by Connor’s mother Sara Ryan (launched long before his death), LB and his family are not mere statistics in a report or anonymised case study “victims” in yet another care scandal. Instead we have Connor: a son, brother, nephew, friend, schoolmate, neighbour – and much more – deprived of his potential. We forget neither his face and personality nor the honest grief of a family facing “a black hole of unspeakable and immeasurable and incomprehensible pain”.

Yet while anger and angst has sparked and continues to fan #107days, the overwhelming atmosphere is optimistic. There is the sense that outrage, can should and will force action (and it’s worth mentioning, as #JusticeforLB supporters have stressed, exposing bad care begs a focus on good care – lest we forget and tar all professional carers with the same apathetic brush).

Both in its irreverent attitude and wide-ranging activity, this is no orthodox campaign. It is human and accessible because of its eclectic and inclusive nature (see, for example, Change People’s easy read version of the report into Connor’s death). And at the heart of the campaign lie concrete demands. In its bottom-up, social media-driven, grassroots approach and dogged determination, #107days has a hint of the Spartacus campaign against welfare cuts (Spartacus activist Bendy Girl is supporting #JusticeforLB through her work with the newly formed People First England).

As for impact so far, daily blogposts have attracted over 25,000 hits with visitors from 63 countries. There have been 7,000 or so tweets (which pre-date #107days) 1,380 followers, the #justiceforLB hashtag has been used more than 3,560 times and the #107days hashtag more than 2,000 times in the last month (thanks to George Julian for the number crunching). So far, the total amount raised for Connor’s family’s legal bills is around £10,000.

I can’t list each #107day but suffice it to say that the exhaustive activities and analysis so far include creative and sporting achievements highlighting the campaign as well as education-based events (or as Sara described progress on only Day 6 of #107: “Tiny, big, colourful, grey, staid, chunky, smooth, uncomfortable, funny, powerful, mundane, everyday, extraordinary, awkward, shocking, fun, definitely not fun, political, politically incorrect, simple, random, harrowing, personal, in your face, committed, joyful, loud, almost forgettable, colourful and whatever events”).

Along with blogs, beach art and buses in Connor’s name, there’s an LB truck, the tale of two villages’ awareness-raising, a hair-raising homage, autobiographical posts about autism, siblings’ stories, sporting activities, and lectures. And patchwork, postcards, pencil cases, paddling (by a 15-year-old rower) and petition-style letters (open to signatures).

It’s worth noting that while learning disability should be but isn’t a mainstream media issue, there have been pieces in the Guardian and Daily Telegraph plus important coverage on Radio 4 , BBC Oxford and in the specialist press. BBC Radio Oxford‘s Phil Gayle and team have followed developments relentlessly and Sting Radio produced an uplifting show on the first day of the campaign. While some of this coverage pre-dates #107days, it reflects how media attention has been captured solely thanks to the efforts of Connor’s family and supporters (links to other coverage are on Sara’s blog).

As for reaching the key figures who could help make the changes #107days wants, the campaign has had contact with health secretary Jeremy Hunt, care minister Norman Lamb, chief inspector of adult social care Andrea Sutcliffe and Winterbourne improvement programme director Bill Mumford, care provider organisations and staff.

Earlier, I described the first half of #107days’ aims to “inspire, collate and share positive actions” and capture the “energy, support and outrage” ignited by LB’s death. Based on the efforts and impact so far, and the campaign is clearly on track.

But the remaining target – to “ensure that lasting changes and improvements are made” – is more elusive, largely because it lies outside the responsibility and remit of members of the #107days campaign.

Contrast the collective nerve, verve, indignation and initiative of the last 46 days to what Norman Lamb calls the historic “institutional inertia” of NHS and local government commissioners, a cultural apathy undermining plans to move more people out of Winterbourne-style units.

The existence and continued use of ATUs might be a challenging and seemingly intractable problem. But that’s not good enough a reason for commissioners – and those who run and govern such places – to ignore the problem. There are good intentions coming from some in authority; people just need to put their collective muscles where their mouths are. Doing that sometime during the remaining 60 days of the campaign for Connor seems like the right thing to do.

Development and disability: new report urges action

Hazrat Bilal and family, Bangladesh (pic: Sightsavers)
Hazrat Bilal and family, Bangladesh (pic: Sightsavers)

Hazrat Bilal from Narshingdi, Bangladesh, has been blind since birth, but it was only in 2008 at the age of 33, with support from Bangladeshi charity Action for Blind Children, that he was officially registered as permanently disabled. That led to more support from services for the visually impaired; Hazrat got to know other people with sight problems and began to gain confidence.

The 39-year-old now runs his own grocery shop and has helped form a self-help group. It was only after help from the local charity, a partner of international charity Sightsavers, that his life was transformed but if more international development and aid plans were disability-inclusive, there would be many more stories like Hazrat’s.

One billion people all over the world – 15 per cent of the population – have a disability, according to the World Health Organisation. Of that total, 80 per cent live in developing countries.

Despite the fact that one of the eight Millennium Development Goals that world leaders agreed in 2000 was that every child should have a full primary education by 2015, more than a third of the 57 million children worldwide missing out on school have disabilities (see this stunning picture story about blind schoolchildren in Uganda). It seems incredible but disability was not included in the Millennium Development Goals.

Disabilities contribute to global economic, political and social development but it is well documented that development programmes overlook disability issues. That may change if a new report by the International Development Select Committee on disability and development has any impact. Today’s report urges the Department for International Development (DFID) to strengthen its work to include people with disabilities and calls for a focus on disability as a development issue.

The report’s recommendations echoes some of the actions outlined in international charity Sightsavers’ Put Us in the Picture campaign. Launched last year, the campaign calls on policymakers and politicians to include disabled people in international aid and development plans, highlighting the links between disability and poverty.

Specifically, the campaign says the government must ensure people with disabilities participate in, and benefit from, international development programmes and must talk, listen to and work with people with disabilities and their families. It also argues that DFID staff should be trained to include people with disabilities in their work.

You can support the Put Us in the Picture campaign here or follow it on Twitter with the hashtag #InThePicture

Why did Connor Sparrowhawk die in a specialist NHS unit?

Connor Sparrowhawk (photo: Sara Ryan)
Connor Sparrowhawk (photo: Sara Ryan)
The death of 18-year-old Connor Sparrowhawk at Slade House assessment and treatment unit was avoidable, according to a recently published report. What happened to Connor, who was admitted to the specialist care in Oxfordshire a year ago today, has reignited debate about the use of these units – Winterbourne View was a privately run unit where the abuse of patients with learning disabilities was exposed by BBC’s Panorama in 2011.

The full piece I wrote for today’s Guardian is here – please read it alongside the words of Connor’s mother, Sara Ryan, who describes the fight for justice for her son.

From today for 107 days (the length of time Connor was in Slade House), there is a campaign to raise awareness of what happened to Connor. Building on the palpable sense of anger and injustice, it is hoping to push for action.

You can follow the campaign on Twitter @JusticeforLB #JusticeforLB. Connor’s mother’s blog is here.

I’m posting some additional contributions from a few interviewees here as there wasn’t space in the published piece.

Sandie Keene, president of the Association of the Directors of Adult Social Services, stressed the fact that it’s not just social care commissioners who are responsible for the continued use of units like Slade House:
“Commissioning these days is a complex environment [it’s within] NHS England, clinical commissioning groups, social care commissioning.” Keene adds that the solution is partly “to find better ways of cascading the best practice”.

Mark Neary won a legal fight to get his autistic son, Steven, out of the kind of care Connor was in. He explained what these units are like for individuals and families: “After Steven’s experience in an assessment and treatment unit where he was unlawfully held for the whole of 2010, I question what the purpose of these places is. In our case, the judge remarked about the lack of assessment when Steven was first taken there and there didn’t appear to be any treatment taking place. The unit appeared to me to be a holding container. And a very expensive holding container at that. The other aspect of the unit that shocked me was how much families were excluded. On a major medical document, I wasn’t even mentioned as Steven’s next of kin – his keyworker at the unit was. To have my whole 20 years experience of Steven negated was quite terrifying. And worst of all, it must be awful for the person detained there to be cut off from the people who have cared for them all their life. Steven has autism. Does that need treatment? And even if it does, is it good for a person for whom routine is everything to be kept in one of these places?”
* You can read Mark’s blog and his stories of his son’s time in an assessment and treatment unit

Jenny Morris, an independent consultant who advised the previous government on disability, puts the lack of progress on moving people out of units and into the community down to two things: “There are negative attitudes in society in general toward people with learning disabilities plus ignorance or lack of understanding about how denying people the ability to communicate their needs, and failure to meet their needs, leads to “challenging behaviour. When things go wrong the response is to write new or updated standards and codes of practice etc instead of paying attention to how to recruit, retain and value people who can – because of their values – provide good care and empower people. If we paid more attention to the characteristics of people who provide good care, plus how to support them with training and good working conditions etc, and less to problematising the needs of people with learning disabilities we might not see the kind of institutional disablism that persists in so many services.”

A senior contact, who didn’t wish to be named but who runs a large care organisation, talked about the closure of long-stay hospitals and how what’s developed in their place is almost as bad: “We closed closed them and some pretty similar things have replaced them. The policy context for working with people with challenging behaviour has been clear for over 20 years..the best way to develop servives for people with challenging behaviour is individualised services around the person and it needs to be small scale local and in the community. It has been out there [ie known about and practised by the best care providers] for years, but seldom happens.”

I interviewed Katrina Percy, the chief executive of Southern Health, which ran the now-closed unit that Connor was in. Southern was criticised in an independent report into Connor’s death and is currently being investigated by health regulator Monitor.

Asking why units like Slade House exist, I mentioned the buck passing that families feels goes on between ‘stakeholders’ – with commissioners of services and clinicians complaining about the lack of community-based alternatives, and service providers for people with learning disabilities suggesting commissioners don’t know about, or cannot afford, existing alternatives. Percy replied: “I feel it’s got to be a joint piece of work, so often the experts [who sit on commissioning boards] come from our organisation, but the commissioners need to make the decision that they wish to commission this new [community-based] model of care”.

I asked if concerned the trust is worried about losing its healthcare licence given the critical reports (the report into Connor’s death and inspections by the care sector regulator, as the piece today explains). Percy responded that she did not know about a potential breach of licence, but said the trust had been in discussion with Monitor and “the organisation overall has an awful lot of strengths”. She added: “One of the hardest thing in my job is about enabling focus where things go wrong, but not allowing that to pervade a very big organisation where lots of things go very right [where] in fact we’re seen as leading edge and my job as chief exec is to absolutely make sure that we get that that balance and prioritisation and focus right.”

On the calls for her resignation, Percy replied that she would like to “meet the family and talk to them directly so they actually see what I’m like as an individual and as a chief executive.” She added: “There are many things we are very proud of in this organisation and we provides services to millions of people and therefore I think my best place is to help us continue to improve services for every single person who needs to use them.” Asked to clarify, Percy replied: “I don’t see that it’s approporiate that I would resign, no.”

Responding to what she would say if she met Connor’s family, specifically his mother Sara Ryan, Percy said: “I would apologise unreservedly that her son and her family were let down by our services…I would ask her when she feels ready, if that is what she would like to do, to continue to campaign and work with us to design a set of services where this will never happen again.”

* Seven members of staff who worked at the now-closed Slade House are subject to a “human resources investigation”, with the first disciplinary hearing due to take place this month. In an email after the Guardian piece went to press, Southern Health confirmed “three members of staff have been suspended”.

He should never have died

I launched this blog as a platform for some of the excellent, uplifting, often unsung, good practice in social and public policy.

In contrast, this week I’ve been finding out about some of the worst care possible.

The opposite of “care”, in fact.

A host of very adept, passionate bloggers and campaigners have been demanding not only answers, but action after the death last year of Connor Sparrowhawk. Connor, 18, died while “being cared for” at a Southern Health Trust in-patient unit in Oxfordshire for people with learning disabilities.

As Connor’s mother Sara has said, “He should never have died and the appalling inadequacy of the care he received should not be possible in the NHS.” Sara’s powerful blog includes links to bloggers and commentators whose words are well worth reading.

I had to share Sara’s beautiful and powerful slideshow here; please watch it if you’ve not seen it before. And if you have already seen it, watch it again to remind yourself of the very real people and families behind the astonishing inequalities in care experienced by people with learning disabilities.

Much has been written about Connor, and more will be – although clearly we need more action than words alone – but taken together, Sara’s slideshow and these stark words from the independent report published last week tell you much of what you need to know: “the death of [Connor] was preventable”.

* Follow #JusticeforLB on Twitter @JusticeforLB
* Read more on Sara’s blog and sign up for email updates here

Seeing dementia through a different lens

Ashwani and Didi laughing, from Love, Loss and Laughter by Cathy Greenblat
Ashwani and Didi laughing, from Love, Loss and Laughter by Cathy Greenblat

I was entranced by some of Cathy Greenblat’s photographs of people with Alzheimer’s, which I came across when researching a recent piece about dementia.

Dementia is a major global challenge – health experts describe it as the next global pandemic. One in three of us will develop it – 135 million people by 2050, according to Alzheimer’s Disease International (ADI), and its annual worldwide health and social-care cost is around £400bn.

Yet Greenblat’s work goes behind the headlines to present the human aspect of the disease.

The images in the book Love, Loss and Laughter present a rare view of the illness, shattering the stereotypical image of people as personality-free empty shells, discarded and forgotten by society.

Marie-Therese at a party (photo: Cathy Greenblat)
Marie-Therese at a party (photo: Cathy Greenblat)

Greenblat’s thought-provoking project to document the lives of people with Alzheimer’s is endorsed by ADI and has taken her all over the world for over a decade (it was published in 2011).

An academic and photographer whose grandparents and mother all developed Alzheimer’s, the sociologist’s work combines a large scale vision and research expertise with a very personal focus on human relationships and societal attitudes. Many of her photographs reveal the characters behind the disease, presenting people with Alzheimer’s in a social or familial context and among friends and carers.

The hundred or so photographs taken in care homes, private houses, clinics and day centres all over the world show how it is possible for people with dementia and their families and carers to experience some joy as they lose their cognitive functions (the “love” and “laughter” in the “loss”). The images show how people can maintain both independence and quality of life.

It is worth pointing out, however, the images do not shirk from touching on the frustration, anxiety and isolation – particularly at the end of life – which Alzheimer’s brings.

As Greenblat, Professor Emerita of Sociology at Rutgers University, writes in the book, “people with dementia retain vital capacities”. She reinforces the notion that our attitudes to dementia must change if the experience of those with the illness is to improve; her book quotes Michael Verde, president of American dementia organisation Memory Bridge, who says People with dementia don’t disappear unless we disappear from them”. It is possible, as Verde has said, “to change what is referred to as ‘the long goodbye’ into ‘a long hello’”.

The photographer tells me that people are often surprised to hear that the subjects of her pictures have the disease, she says: “I’m often struck by the responses of viewers of my photos at exhibits who ask with some astonishment, ‘But does this person really have Alzheimer’s?” They have only seen images that show people who are sad, dispirited, disconnected, and it takes them time to accept that that is not the necessary condition.

“People who are treated as hopeless lose hope; people who are treated as being unable to do things lose confidence. We don’t treat a sense of hopelessness or lack of confidence with medication: we do it by helping them to feel needed, cared about, being stimulated, communicating differently with them.”

Greenblat will be in Australia in late February to photograph more care settings and explore how to create “joy filled residential communities for people with dementia”. She hope this will result in a multimedia project with interviews, photographs and videos. Some more of her work is included in the gallery below:

• I asked Cathy a few more questions about her work, here’s what she said:

“Perceptions of Alzheimer’s are changing in the time since I’ve been photographing.One of the big changes is that there is so much more talk about Alzheimer’s, in the press, in books of all sorts, on the internet in the form of webinars and connections that are global.

Of importance is the greater participation in the dialogue by people living with dementia – people with diagnoses and people who are their care partners. This is no longer just the medical community telling us about what they know, but sharing of experience…Not everyone is listening to these new voices, but those who do have learned that there are ways to continue a quality life for much longer than has generally been believed.

How has my academic background helped me in my work? Probably the most important thing is that I came to this work with a knowledge of doing research… I knew how to go into new situations and places and learn from people about their lives. Now I was adding a camera to my “tool kit”, as I believe that seeing is so important in changing one’s mind… I speak in an early chapter in the book about ‘Changing people’s minds about people’s changing brains’ – that’s what I have been doing. And I think that is crucial.

I thoroughly believe that we need to distinguish between the physiological changes as we become ill, and the primary symptoms brought about by that. But there are many secondary symptoms such as apathy, aggression, social isolation, that are not caused by the disease but by the way people are treated and come to see themselves .

People who are treated as hopeless lose hope; people who are treated as being unable to do things lose confidence. We don’t treat a sense of hopelessness or lack of confidence with medication: we do it by helping them to feel needed, cared about, being stimulated, communicating differently with them… It is what the photos illustrate. This is not a new perspective… it has been discussed by scholars around the world, but the addition of visual evidence in photos that clearly are not posed has given them wider acceptance.

Many people “run away” from dementia. Surely some people run away from family members or friends who begin acting strangely and are difficult to deal with because they are don’t want to deal with the problem. We all know of siblings who fight about the care to be given to a parent, leaving the responsibility on someone else’s shoulders. They say they are too busy, they had poorer relations before, they have other responsibilities..

But many people are not selfish and ill informed – rather, they are frightened, they don’t know what to do they don’t know what they can do, they believe that there is nothing that can be done until a cure is found. That is simply not true. There is so much we know how to do now to engage people in continuing stimulating activities. There is so much to be gained through creating partnerships with professionals and other groups that provide day care activities, memory centers, art and music therapy, etc.

We need to help people know that there is a great deal to do and inspire them to find resources near their homes or on the internet. Many friends and family want to be engaged and helpful but they don’t know how to do that. There are excellent books, pamphlets from the Alzheimer’s associations and other groups. This can not only help the person who is ill, but it makes the friends and family feel more empowered… They can learn what to say and how to act in ways that let the person feel they are understood, which in turn reduces the aggression which so often is the result of feeling they can’t clearly express their needs and desires.”

• You can watch some films on Love, Loss and Laughter here and here or visit the website to find out more about upcoming events related to the book and photography project. You can also follow Cathy on Twitter @CathyGreenblat

We need to prepare for the next global pandemic

It is a disease one in three of us will develop – 135 million people will have it by 2050 and its worldwide health and social-care cost in 2010 was estimated at £400bn…yet no one is ready for the worldwide pandemic that is dementia.

My Guardian interview with leading microbiologist Peter Piot today, coinciding with the G8 Summit on dementia, underlines why international action is vital. Piot, who spent four decades investigating the world’s deadliest diseases and whose pioneering work made HIV/Aids a global priority, is in no doubt that dementia is now the world’s greatest social, economic and moral challenge.

“There’s not enough awareness of how bad the problem is,” warns Piot, a global health expert and director of the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine. Like most of us who know someone who has had or is living with dementia (my grandfather had it), Piot’s father-in-law had the illness, so he knows first hand of the denial and stigma it brings: “It is the most neglected of all the neglected health problems and it’s a hidden problem because people are at home – they’re already written off by society”.You can read the rest of my piece is here.

When Piot argues that the discrimination faced by people with dementia is tantamount to a “human rights violation” and more than just a medical problem, I couldn’t agree more.

Funding and focus on research is essential, but this has to be accompanied by a change in attitudes – and the latter will be an uphill struggle for a society fails to have older people on its radar, regardless of whether or not they have dementia.

More autistic people should be able to volunteer

David Braunsberg
David Braunsberg
My experience proves the benefits of volunteering for people with autism. I was born in 1959 and diagnosed with autism in 1963, at age four. I was one of Sybil Elgar’s first pupils at her progressive school. She was a pioneer in autism and helped develop my language and communication skills.

I then attended a local primary school in Edinburgh, where my mother and I moved, and a mainstream secondary school in London when we moved back to England in 1972. Art was my strongest subject (I passed several O Levels) and I studied furnishing design and textiles at the London College of Furniture. I got a diploma in art and design. I took more courses after that at a local art college and learned things like etching and print making. My most recent works are computer generated greetings cards (see the website).

Following a traumatic event in 2008, I developed severe depression and anxiety . After some time attending a psychiatric unit, social services support and help from my GP, a social worker suggested volunteering and I was put in touch with Volunteer Centre Camden.

It was through the volunteer centre that I started working at the Holy Cross Centre Trust in July 2011. It is a secular organisation in King’s Cross, London, which supports mental health recovery as well as homeless people, refugees and asylum seekers.

I hadn’t volunteered before although I’d had some experience of work. The place where I worked previously was a company providing unpaid employment for people with mental health issues and was run as a social service. The aim was to manufacture and distribute large volumes of greeting cards to the mass market but I wasn’t happy there. The tasks I was involved in were printing and packing greeting cards and using Photoshop on a computer for designing cards for later use and batch production.

I did not get satisfaction there as I was mostly restricted to printing other people’s designs and this did not allow me to express my own ideas. Their bias was to produce Christmas cards and my inspiration for designs comes from many sources which are irrelevant for Christmas. The repetitive tasks were soul-destroying.

But at the Holy Cross where I am now, my role is to help and encourage people to draw and paint, also to set up and tidy the art materials. I work noon to 3pm. Everyone is kind and friendly and there is a positive buzz to the place. Not only is helping out so satisfying and rewarding, it helps me to gain significantly in confidence and the thrill of feeling respected and valued as part of a team is fantastically liberating. I have made many friends and can see myself thriving there well in the future.

Suitable volunteering should be open to more autistic people as the skills required such as attention to detail, reliability or some special talents are well suited to the autistic trait and may prove to be great assets for the workplace. On their part autistic people can benefit from mixing and socialising with people of different nationalities and backgrounds and feeling respected and valued. To me the regular routines, the structure to the week and the sense of purpose in society are most satisfying.

Autistic people may encounter some difficulties. For example, travelling on public transport, especially long distances, or unintentional and misinterpreted challenging behaviour may cause problems. But with foresight, awareness about autism, guidance and the right support I see no reason why autistic people should not be accepted and be very successful doing voluntary work. I am quite sure that, giving the right conditions, volunteering can be “autism friendly”.

The fact I am high functioning autistic has presented no problems in my volunteering. One of the benefits of working there is that it has a knock-on effect on my closeness, love and affection towards members of the family. I now feel so optimistic about the future. Socialising now comes with ease. I am thrilled with life!

* See more of David’s work on his website