An elderly Chinese lady, whom we shall call Sally, contacted the social service agency she frequented for exercise classes to report a concern. Sally said that she had not seen her neighbour—a single, Indian lady a few years younger—for a few days and efforts to call on her went unanswered.
Having been neighbours for a few years, Sally enjoyed a cordial relationship with Mdm Mani. Three years earlier, the latter was divorced by her husband, who left the home with their two sons. After that, she withdrew and would pull her curtains shut.
Accompanied by social workers, Sally went to Mdm Mani’s flat. After some persistent knocking, she opened the door. She appeared somewhat frail and confused. They later learnt that most of her days and nights were spent lying on the sofa in the darkened living room. In the early days after her divorce, she would occasionally go out to buy groceries and cooked food. These forays out of the flat became increasingly infrequent as she lost her energy and appetite.
The same social service agency had another case where a woman in her thirties who approached it for support for an elderly couple. The couple had lost their only child six months before and the mother’s grief was overwhelming. She had previously managed a small convenience stall in the market, but two months into their loss, the couple closed it as she was unable to attend to customers. Her husband became her main caregiver but he too had health issues which made standing and walking difficult.
The same social service agency had another case where a woman in her thirties approached it for support for an elderly couple. The couple had lost their only child six months before and the mother’s grief was overwhelming. She had previously managed a small convenience stall in the market, but two months into their loss, the couple closed it as she was unable to attend to customers. Her husband became her main caregiver but he too had health issues which made standing and walking difficult.
The younger woman, the grieving mother’s niece, would look in on her aunt and uncle as often as she could after work. Having to juggle care for the elderly couple and her own family with two young children, it was clear that in spite of her valiant efforts, she could not continue doing it on her own indefinitely.
These two cases are, unfortunately, not isolated ones. Over the years that I have worked with this agency, more and more seem to be uncovered. Even as Singapore has made significant strides in providing the basics for its population, there remain pockets of need.
Is it, can it be or even should it be the government’s responsibility to care for each and every one of its citizens? I do not think so. This is because care at a personal level cannot be solely a public policy issue.
The government can ensure that affordable health care is available to all and that a basic structure of amenities is accessible for the frail or infirm. It may even establish outreach programmes to contact those who may be isolated and shut in. But all these brick-and-mortar efforts must run in tandem with human beings reaching out to fellow human beings.
We all need and long for human connection. In the past, families and closely-knit communities provided this connection. Today, as families shrink and many are trying hard to make a living, there is little time or energy to build meaningful connections. Family visits to elderly parents are limited to dropping off and picking up the grandchildren or to occasional visits during festive periods.
To complicate this is the stoic attitude of some elderly who feel that their own needs are not to be voiced lest they inconvenience others. Reinforcing this self-imposed silence may be the sense that they are no longer able to contribute and are therefore only a burden and a drain on resources.
I want to add a quick word here that the need for meaningful connection is also felt by those who may be hale and hearty and blessed with sufficient resources. Money may give us greater autonomy and enable us to buy services but it cannot purchase care and compassion.
The two cases provide some reasons to be hopeful. As our immediate families shrink in size, the wider family network may be called upon to play a role. Informal and formal community carers may also take on a bigger and bigger part in the care of individuals. This may mean neighbours breaking free from the idea that minding your own business is a way of being respectful and neighbourly. It is heartening that formal community- based helping services have begun attending to residents’ emotional and mental health needs as much as their needs for physical sustenance.
As our immediate families shrink in size, the wider family network may be called upon to play a role. Informal and formal community carers may also take on a bigger and bigger part in the care of individuals. This may mean neighbours breaking free from the idea that minding your own business is a way of being respectful and neighbourly.
Finally, I am reminded of our Lord being asked a deep theological question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” The ensuing discourse entrenches the imperative to love and care for our neighbour, which includes anyone we know is in need (Luke 10:25-37). Only then can our faith be seen as genuine in expressing God’s love.
Benny Bong has over 40 years of experience as a therapist, counsellor and trainer. He also conducts regular talks and webinars. Benny has helmed the You & Your Family column for more than 18 years and is a member of Kampong Kapor Methodist Church.