Quality of Life

Webster’s Dictionary defines quality of life as “the degree to which a person or group is healthy, comfortable, and able to enjoy the activities of daily living.” Wikipedia expands on this, stating, “In general, quality of life is the perceived quality of an individual’s daily life, that is, an assessment of their well-being or lack thereof. This includes all emotional, social, and physical aspects of the individual’s life. In health care, health-related quality of life (HRQoL) is an assessment of how the individual’s well-being may be affected over time by a disease, disability, or disorder.”

Quality of life means something different to everyone. In long-term care facilities, activity departments are tasked with fostering a sense of purpose and joy among residents. One afternoon, during an ice cream social, a resident remarked, “This is what I live for.” Another countered, “Really? I live for my grandkids to visit.” This prompted others to share what gave their lives meaning. Some hoped to regain strength to return home, while others were content not having to manage a large house anymore. One longed for a pain-free existence, while another simply wished for more family visits.

That conversation was eye-opening for me as an activity director. My role was to enhance their quality of life, but how could I fulfill such diverse and deeply personal needs? I couldn’t summon family members, erase pain, or guarantee a return home. One conversation, in particular, left an indelible mark. A resident, who had fallen in her shower and remained there for hours before being found, confided, “I don’t want to just eat, sleep, rock, and die.” She didn’t come to the nursing home to fade away—she wanted purpose.

This realization reshaped my approach. The most valuable tool I had was the activity assessment, which allowed me to understand what truly mattered to each resident. I began asking new residents what brought them joy. Their answers helped shape an activity calendar that reflected their unique interests. One wanted to rejoin the Fraternal Order of Police. Another hoped to continue playing cards with their group. Some wished to bake, can food, or garden. Others sought opportunities to fish, attend church, or engage in meaningful tasks.

One resident dismissed my activities as “frivolous,” explaining that, as a farmer’s wife, she had no interest in playing games. Instead, I invited her to assist with organizing supplies, setting up, and cleaning up after events. She embraced the role, and in time, she even began participating in activities herself. Another woman, a former secretary, scoffed at my events. Instead of arguing, I asked if she’d help compile the monthly newsletter. She not only agreed but recruited friends to assist, ultimately requesting an electric stapler for efficiency.

At a new job in an assisted living facility, I encountered a resident who openly criticized the establishment, including its activities program, and expressed plans to move. She was a retired hospital administrator, and when I learned the resident council lacked a president, I saw an opportunity. I suggested she take on the role. Initially hesitant, she believed management wouldn’t allow it. I assured her otherwise. My administrator warned me that this resident was a notorious complainer, but I trusted my instincts. She became an exceptional council president, and when she was diagnosed with cancer, she chose to stay, wanting her “family” to care for her.

Quality of life is deeply personal and evolves throughout different life stages. The best tool we have to enhance it is the activity assessment. The more we understand about what gives each resident meaning, the better equipped we are to provide fulfilling, purpose-driven experiences for those we serve.

Tammy Point NAAP Leadership Team