For people over 50, the physical health impacts of loneliness are alarming.
Social isolation can be as harmful to their health as smoking cigarettes, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. And for those with heart failure, feeling lonely correlates with a nearly quadruple increased risk of death, according to a National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine study issued earlier this year.
With social distancing measures in place, and technology gaps for some, the loneliness is only increasing during the coronavirus pandemic in Oregon. In July, the Mail Tribune reported that the Senior Loneliness Line — a hotline available for Oregonians 55 and older that is operated through Lines for Life — received around 1,200 calls in June, a significant spike from previous months.
Senior Loneliness Line
Oregonians over the age of 55 experiencing loneliness and isolation can call the Senior Loneliness Line at 503-200-1633.
“The subjective feeling of loneliness can actually increase somebody’s risk for depression, anxiety and substance use, even cognitive issues,” said Kera Magarill, an older-adult behavioral health specialist at Washington County Disability, Aging and Veteran Services. “So you are at an increased risk of dementia and Alzheimer’s if you’re experiencing loneliness. There’s a whole range of health issues.”
Behavioral health issues can include things such as suicidal ideation. “Your risk for dying by suicide increases dramatically if you are isolated or lonely,” she said.
Magarill is one of only two aging-adult specialists in the county, created by the statewide Behavioral Health Initiative for Older Adults and People with Disabilities initiative. She conducts trainings on the topic and provides consultation for aging adults with mental health concerns and looks out for funding for aging adult programs.
Magarill said isolation is different from the feeling of loneliness, which actually disproportionately affects seniors in socially populated environments such as assisted-living facilities and retirement homes.
As adults age, sometimes distance or personal rifts keep family members far, and deaths among circles of friends run high. Increasing health issues that might limit mobility can make it more difficult for aging adults to participate in their communities like they did when they were younger.
In Oregon, the suicide rate for older adults was near 27 per 100,000 individuals in 2018 — much higher than the nationwide average of 19 per 100,000 people.
In Washington County, the prevalence of depression among people 65 and older hovered around 15% in 2017, comparable to the national average. There, a bustling community of seniors in the Beaverton area has jumped into action in the midst of the social-distancing lockdown in order to ensure its aging population remains well-accompanied, even while remaining at home.
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Viva Village, which includes Beaverton and surrounding areas, is a member organization of a local nonprofit network of similar hubs in the Portland metro area. It’s part of a broader, nationwide village movement that strives to keep seniors engaged in their communities and aging at home rather than in retirement homes or assisted-living facilities.
Kathe Fradkin, who serves as the membership and outreach team lead at Viva Village, believes the pandemic could be amplifying the “aging in place” movement.
“What we continue to uncover in COVID-19 is the value of people living in their homes independently. So much of the coronavirus epidemic has rang throughout the assisted-living and retirement homes, and now people are more and more committed than ever to staying in their homes to be safe,” Fradkin said.
Village members pay a monthly fee to gain access to a localized network of volunteers who provide services to seniors and a list of recommended professionals to take on tasks like home maintenance. The organization also provides myriad cultural and educational events and classes, as well as group meetups and forums.
All of those, of course, went online when the pandemic hit and will remain there for the long term, as many seniors likely won’t stop social distancing until a vaccine is available for the coronavirus.
She said members of Viva Village who do have access to technology adapted themselves quickly to the world of video conferencing in order to stay in touch and participate in classes.
And while some of Viva Village’s members lack access to a computer or internet, the village works to keep them connected through physical newsletters, biweekly “neighborhood connections” phone calls from volunteers, and more recently with porch visits.
“Nobody is ignored. They might be quarantined, but they are not isolated socially,” she said. “We don’t see a lot of additional loneliness and isolation because of our processes.”
Magarill noted that as the pandemic altered ways for seniors to stay in touch and diminish deadly feelings of loneliness, senior programs in the area were quick to adapt many of their meetings and classes online. Most participants were quick to pick it up, too.
But the county is still working to connect some seniors with necessary devices for participating online.
“There are a lot of folks in our community that are not being served right now, because they don’t have access to technology or the internet, or (they) don’t have a device or they don’t know how to use it,” she said. “So there’s still a huge gap there.”
Among adults over 65, first-generation immigrants and LGBTQ+ people more commonly experience the life-altering impacts of loneliness, according to the CDC.
In rural Cornelius, where the population hovers near 12,000 and farm fields expand to the horizon, Antonio, 72, and Maria Diaz, 71, have been isolating inside their one-story home with a flock of 11 beautiful and bustling parakeets.
The twittering, fluttering and quick spats between the birds keeps the couple in good company during lonely times.
Originally from the city of Morelia in Michoacán, Mexico, they immigrated to the U.S. in the late 1980s and both worked in agriculture in Oregon before Antonio retired in 2009.
Maria, who bears not a single strand of gray in her long, wavy hair, wonders how much longer the pair must go on in isolation. Her husband was recently diagnosed with colon cancer and between treatments has spent much time at home sleeping.
“My husband, since they discovered the new cancer, he’s been more depressed, sad and not talkative,” Maria told Street Roots, with the help of translation from Martha Meza, an Oregon Health Plan assister and program coordinator at Centro Cultural.
Antonio said he suspects his health issues have been made worse because of sadness caused by the isolating during the pandemic.
The couple, who speak Spanish, live within walking distance of Centro Cultural de Washington County, which serves Latino families in the heart of the farming community.
They participated regularly in the Edad de Oro or “Golden Age” program, along with about 80 other seniors in the area ranging from their early 60s to late 80s.
Maria and Antonio told Street Roots that they rely mostly on TV to get information about the coronavirus pandemic. They don’t have children, but they do have family in the area. Although, Maria said, they don’t see them often.
She misses being at Centro Cultural and tagging along on field trips with the group. When Maria and Antonio met with Street Roots, it was the first time they’d gotten a chance to enter the building since March.
Seferina Dale, wellness program manager at Centro Cultural, hopes to at some point incorporate a digital component to senior programming.
Aging adults in the area who typically receive help from younger family members are experiencing added stress as unemployment remains high, she said.
“I don’t want to say that seniors are forgotten, because they’re not really forgotten by their kids. But it’s really hard to also help them,” Dale told Street Roots. “I think sometimes seniors are not very vocal about it, so maybe sons and daughters don’t really know what’s happening.”
The majority of participants at Centro are on Medicaid or Social Security, but some don’t receive benefits because of their immigration status, and most live at or below the poverty level. Most of them live in subsidized housing, with relatives or in farmworker housing. Some are still working at agricultural nurseries. And for many, language is a barrier.
Some participants who originally had roommates to help them make monthly rent have seen the tenants packing their bags due to illness or loss of income. Others once relied on contacts at their churches to foster community and gain access to resources and consistent transportation.
Since March, Dale and her assistant Martha Meza, along with a group of eight or so volunteers at Centro, have committed to calling every senior in their program once a week. The center has also seen a massive increase in community reliance on the food boxes they distribute among seniors.
Typically, the senior program holds regular meals and events — music, art projects and field trips — making it much easier to provide services to the group like specific foods for those with chronic illnesses. But now, the process is far more individualized and mostly takes place over the phone.
Dale said that through that change, the struggles of the community she serves are becoming more apparent. It’s especially disheartening when she learns a participant has died, which has happened a few times since March.
“There’s a lot of pride in our community, and so it’s really hard for (seniors) to be asking for handouts or donations, or whatever,” she said. “These calls that we’re making are kind of on a comfort level where we want them to feel like they can talk to us about anything.”
Lack of internet access and technology means that for some of the participants, a phone call from Centro is the most reliable way to find new information about the state of the global health crisis.
But the moment is not permanent, Dale said.
“A long dream that we have is that we someday get a senior citizen center around here that caters to the Hispanic community, that caters to the need,” she said. “Along with that comes all the services you could provide.”
She envisions a future where the seniors in her community can continue supporting each other and experiencing new things.
“It’s part of being healthy and mentally OK,” she said. “Right now, really, is just sort of making it, and surviving.”
How to help
Those interested in donating to Centro Cultural’s wellness program can do so online at centrocultural.org. The organization is also accepting donations to the Esperanza Relief Fund, where funds go directly to migrant families in Washington County, particularly families excluded from government assistance during the pandemic.