AARP Hearing Center
To err is human, goes the common saying. To blame seems to be human, too.
When one of my patients, a 70-year-old I'll call Victor, suffered a cerebral hemorrhage after falling off a ladder while cleaning rain gutters, his whole family joined in the blame game. Victor blamed his second wife, Alice, for not coming out to hold the ladder steady. His adult children from his first marriage blamed her for allowing a man of his age to attempt that dangerous chore. She blamed herself for not preventing him from drinking three beers that afternoon.
Roundly faulted, Alice felt guilty and depressed at first. She threw herself frenetically into caring for Victor to repair the damage she'd supposedly caused. But over the many months of his slow recovery, she eventually became infuriated. No matter how much she did and how many of her own health problems arose, he and his children demanded more of her. It was as if she could never dig out from under the mountain of blame heaped on her.
Human beings resort to such finger-pointing for myriad reasons: It helps us vent fears and frustrations as well as ward off unbearable guilt. It allows us to avoid feelings of grief over loss. It is also an attempt to gain control and avert repeat disaster in what may feel like a chaotic free fall.
Caregiving families are no different. Care receivers blame caregivers for inadequate care. Caregivers blame care receivers for inadequate effort. Caregivers blame other family members for failing to show up. Other family members blame caregivers for failing to share information and opportunity. Both care receivers and caregivers blame "uncaring" health care professionals — who blame them right back for being "noncompliant" to their expert instructions.
If blaming were an effective strategy for rallying people together, then caregivers would greatly benefit. But it causes most of us to feel hurt and alienated.