Monthly Archives: August 2012
Elderly care: Government to ‘set out cost limit’
Social care is currently means-testedA spokesman said the prime minister was serious about resolving the issue, after a review suggested there should be a cap on social care of £35,000.
The man who recommended the cap said there was a growing consensus behind the move among political leaders.
However, there has been no agreement on a final package of proposals.
Last month Health Secretary Andrew Lansley said ministers supported the principle of a cap but there was no commitment to finding the money to pay for it.
But the government is keen to scotch the impression that reform of social care in England is dead in the water and a Whitehall source said on Thursday there is a will to include it in the next Comprehensive Spending Review, expected to begin next year.
Dementia patients given right to say on end-of-life care
People in the early stages of dementia are to be given a right to have a say in how and where they want to die under guidelines for medical staff and social workers.
By John Bingham, Social Affairs Editor
7:00AM BST 16 Aug 2012
New draft guidelines drawn up by the NHS watchdog Nice will require local authorities and health trusts to give people diagnosed with dementia an opportunity to discuss options for care at the end of their life as early as possible while they still have the capacity.
It follows research showing that only a tiny minority of people have communicated their wishes for how they would like to be treated if they were terminally ill.
Dealing with Dementia: 'My dad was treated like lost luggage on a carousel'
Special report: When her father was diagnosed with dementia, Arifa Akbar embarked upon a journey through an abusive and negligent care system. In the first of a four-part series on the illness, she asks why, if we’re all living longer, we still treat long-term sufferers as though they were the living dead
My father turned 81 in May, but in a weary mood he will insist he is anywhere between 85 and 150. Sometimes he thinks he is living in a submarine off the shores of Norway, other times in Shimla, India, where he was born, or Lahore, where he was raised.
In reflective moments, he looks up to the ceiling and says it’s going to rain, as if he can see storm clouds gathering there. He tells me his father is watching him from the other side of the room, pointing to the small shaving mirror, at his own reflection. When he’s agitated, he shouts for hours at a time.
There are periods when he is lucid and warm; he’ll tell me that I need to eat more, get more sleep. “What’s the name of the newspaper you work for?” he’ll ask. Then, as I’m about to leave, he’ll say, “Am I dead? Did you bring my death certificate?”
