I’m not sure if entitling this post with ‘sex’ will lead to its being banned by all sorts of hospice computer systems, but anyway, here goes.
I’m having a sex day today, not personally you understand, but in trying to write up the outcome of a clinical review. Briefly, the patient was a youngish man whose illness meant that his formerly active sex life was severely curtailed and he was having sexual feelings that he thought were inappropriate.
Part of the discussion revolved around the skilils of eliciting discussion on sexuality. As one nurse put it: ‘After we’ve asked them whether they’re married, that’s as far as we go’. I’m sure it’s not quite like that, because I’ve seen some extensive discussion of sexual issues in case records, for example with men with prostate cancer. However, generally there was a feeling that practitioners did not broach sexuality issues, and would not go far into them if they were raised. One said: ‘I asked a patient once and he said, if he did tell me there were problems with it, what was I going to do about it’.
Partly, not talking about sex was about self-confidence, because not being able to do something about an issue is quite a common experience of many different aspects of palliative care. Although, I suppose nurses and doctors expect to be able to ‘do things’, rather than just discuss them, while social work and spiritual care practitioners might feel more comfortable with just having a discussion that has no action-oriented outcome. Therefore, the suggestion of some training on communication about and intervention with sexual issues seemed apposite. This had the sense of getting some ‘tips and tricks’ for raising sex.
Actually, I think the issue for many of us is not raising the issue but fear of a ‘what are you going to do about it?’ We’re not talking here of the traditional residential social work concern about whether you show someone with learning disabilities how to masturbate, or dial the number of the ‘massage’ service for the physically disabled person. Nowadays, technology means that even the most disabled person can speak the prostitute’s phone number into the dialling device and use their door security device to open the door to the prostitute themselves. I remember an interesting discussion about providing aids and adaptations for a disabled couple in a social services department, where the occupational therapist was convinced that the claimed need for the equipment that the service users were asking for was to achieve more convenient and comfortable sexual intercourse, but this was unstated, and other reasons were given. In the end, we decided ‘so what?’ and provided the equipment. What would a moralistic and cash-strapped modern-day politically controlled agency say, I wonder?
Also, we mostly don’t have to worry about the aggressive interpretation of ‘what are you going to do about it?’ i.e. the nurse or social worker providing the service. The classic case is the patient in Dennis Potter’s ‘The Singing Detective’, who resists arousal by a young Joanne Whalley as his nurse smearing emollient cream on him; behind the curtain it is clear that he eventually ejaculates, but it is left ambiguous whether she actively helps this outcome; probably so. It would be rare for a social worker to be put in this position, perhaps less so for a nurse, but even so avoidance is professionally de rigeur. More to the point, most health and social care professionals are not prepared through their education to give, for example, simple advice about sexual techniques for people with impotence or practical physical problems with performance, or, to go further, moving into sexual therapy for such difficulties. And perhaps would worry about moralistic responses from relatives, colleagues and managers if they did so.
However, the ‘what are you going to do about it?’ issue does raise the question whether simply talking about your problem is enough.
The other reason for my having a sex day is the arrival of a dissertation from a course I am external examiner for called ‘Let’s talk about sex’; this is about young people in a children’s hospice. With young people there may be further questions about socially acceptable behaviour and morally acceptable guidance by professionals. Because sexual activity is such a private matter, the taboos on practitioners’ engagement with it are very strong. Yet it is an important area of exploration and need for all of us, but perhaps particularly for young people. I am reminded of a novel I read recently, which turned on a teenager with heart disease who was protected by his parents from engaging in activity dangerous to his health. It had not occurred to the parents that having sexual intercourse might be something that they should facilitate; most parents with teenagers look the other way and keep out of the way. Because he needed to pursue this interest secretly, he was led into areas of illegality which led to his death.
So if a young person is going to die soon, should we at least give the chance of sexual experience, which is so important to them, and indeed to all of us? Should we focus on facilitating relationships so that the experience should develop naturally? What if it doesn’t? Are we then to facilitate contact with a prostitute if that is what the young person desires? What about the reality that prostitution is usually an exploitation of the woman?
So we’re back to just talking about it – will ventilation of feelings be enough? Over to my readers.