Dementia and Homeless, More common than we think.

Dementia and Homeless, More common than we think.

A stack of tasteful grey pamphlets titled "Ageing Gracefully and with Dignity" sits on a table in the reception of the National Office for Seniors and the Physically Challenged on Victoria Street.
Directly opposite the smart green and white NOSPC building, lying on the edge of a grass verge and clutching a filthy shopping bag, is a 76-year-old man doing anything but that.

Marshall — not his real name — lives rough on the streets of Hamilton and is believed to have done so for well over a decade. He isn't the only senior in Bermuda without a roof over his head.

No official statistics exist on the number of homeless elderly people but charity workers estimate there are as many as ten in the capital alone and plenty more scattered around the Island.
These individuals fall under the radar when it comes to getting even the most basic help from the authorities — after all, who ought be assisting someone who doesn't 'officially' exist?
"You are not going to find figures," Claudette Fleming, executive director of Age Concern, tells The Royal Gazette. "They are like the invisible people."
On a scorching hot day in July, Marshall does indeed seem to be invisible to most people who walk past him.

The odd city worker on their way to grab lunch glances down at him, but the majority appear oblivious to the white-bearded figure lying back on the grass.
If you do stop — perhaps to offer Marshall some loose change or a kind word — the first thing that will probably strike you is the stale stench of urine surrounding him.

The second is his sandal-clad feet — his thick, overgrown toenails are black, yellow and green and the skin around them looks parched and flaky.
His scant possessions are next to him: the shopping bag and a black trash sack containing an umbrella, a half-drunk bottle of vitamin water and a couple of styrofoam cups.

It's possible to find out a little about him in conversation: he was once married and then divorced, he has a daughter and a son who "don't come around me", he was a long-standing Belco employee and Bermuda Industrial Union member who got fired from his job.
He'll tell you that he'll be 77 in October, that he's been on the streets for 17 years and that he wants to be there.
"There's only one [other] place left: the hospital. I don't want to be there," he says. Asked what he wants most, he replies: "A safe place, with no gangsters, to rest."

Piecing together how he came to be sleeping rough in his twilight years proves impossible. He can't or won't explain why he no longer lives in his home "down in the country, down in Devonshire". But it is known that he has abused alcohol.
While he doesn't appear to grasp every question, Marshall nods vigorously when asked if he'd like a coffee and a pastry from across the street. On being handed them, his face lights up as he says: "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Last month, Marshall was diagnosed with dementia after a charity volunteer got him to visit a GP in town.

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