Category Archives: Uncategorized

“Where’s the Beef?”

Caregivers, Humor, Multiple Sclerosis, Uncategorized, , , , , ,

One of the weekly treats I like to bring my brother-in-law, who is almost done in the rehab center, is a cheese steak. For some reason, this small gesture makes him enormously happy. He eats every single morsel and makes me pick up the remains with a fork so he doesn’t miss a bit. He’s become mildly obsessed with his food choices. This makes a lot of sense as it’s about the only choices he actually has on a daily basis.

If I wore a hospital gown every day, no shoes, didn’t go anywhere and could only choose my TV programs, I, too would be fanatically choosing my meals every day. So I try to be  understanding when it takes hours to go through the menu to pick his meals. I’m so understanding that I turned that job over to my mother. She meticulously goes through every single appetizer, main course, including condiments, right down to the amount of salt, pepper and sugar to bring with each meal, dessert and beverages. Then she makes a copy to leave with my brother-in-law so he can check to see what he’s having or if they brought what he actually ordered.

I find this OCD behavior over food and menus daunting. Probably because I’m on a diet. Or maybe because ever since my babies grew up, I’ve become Attila the Hun about having to worry about any body else’s food. And yet, as my mother and I were visiting him the other day the aide brought him a grilled cheese sandwich for his lunch.

The looks of horror on all our faces told her she was not leaving that room unscathed, because we had just finished this conversation:

Brother-in-Law: “What am I having for lunch, today?”

Mom:”I don’t know, let me look at your copy of the menu. So you chose a hot dog and a cheeseburger for today.”

Me: “Oh you’re having your own summer picnic!”

With that the grilled cheese sandwich arrives. This poor girl is accosted by all three of us with a resounding chorus of “Noooooooooooo!” like she had finally brought the hemlock as we had all suspected.

ice cream sundae“Don’t worry,” the aide said, “I will call the kitchen and get what you ordered.”

Now I’m trying to figure out how ‘hot dog’ and ‘cheeseburger’ looks like ‘grilled cheese’ on a pre-printed menu. But I still want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. As I go to look at the menu, my brother-in-law starts to eat his grilled cheese.

“I might as well eat some of this, who knows how long it will take,” he mumbles through bites.

He eats half the sandwich, half the ice cream sundae, which he did order and it is now melting, and lo and behold the hot dog and hamburger arrive sans condiments. We take care of THAT catastrophe and all is well in the land of lunch.

By the way, I finally got my hands on that menu….there was no grilled cheese sandwich as a choice anywhere on any day for this entire week. I imagine the people in the kitchen saying things like:

“Oh we ran out of hot dogs, these people won’t notice a grilled cheese instead. I hope they’re not lactose intolerant.” Or any other kind of intolerant.

“You Just have to Laugh….”

©Cathy Sikorski

Mothers and Daughters…..Part 131

Caregivers, Humor, Multiple Sclerosis, Uncategorized, , , , , , ,

My daughters have come from far away cities to visit for a few days. It has made me reflect on Mothers and Daughters. I could do entire blog just about Mothers and Daughters….daily.

Last week as we were leaving the rehab center where my brother-in-law would be departing for surgery never to return, Mom and I began to take the few personal belongings from his room.

As we were leaving, my Mom picked up the three little mylar ballons each on its own stick, that people had given my BIL for his birthday the month before. I thought she was going to throw them in the trash. But she clutched them to her bosom like she had just discovered a new grandchild.

“What are you going to do with those,” I asked, ok accusingly. I asked accusingly. The whole point of this exercise was to leave behind the crap and just take what was absolutely necessary.

“Well, they’re his. I don’t want to leave them behind,” she said by way of obvious explanation to her idiot daughter.

So I turned to my BIL:

“Do you REALLY want these crappy balloons?” I asked. Ok, I asked sarcastically.

“What balloons?” said the guy in rehab who was getting ready for surgery and clearly was not in a festive mood.

“Ugh. Mom, throw that crap away. What does he need it for?” I asked her.

“Well, I could give them to other people with birthdays. Like Jeannie, it’s her birthday soon. I could give her one.” said my Mom innocently.

With that the guy in the bed pipes up, “Yeah, give one to Jeannie and tell her it’s from me and Happy Birthday.”

So home with us the balloons go.

This is the same woman who three days later calls me and says:

“Okay, I’ve cleaned out all of your BIL’s clothing from his dresser, and gave away everything he’ll never wear. I took all his medical supplies and meds and stored them in my house until we figure out what to keep in his new apartment. And I’m going to start taking pictures off the walls next week.”

“MOM!,” I said with the crazy attitude that every daughter wants to say to her mother every time they talk.

cell“What are you doing? We don’t even have a place for him to live yet after surgery. If we can’t get arrangements made, he may have to go back to his apartment temporarily. Let’s not make it look like a prison cell. There’s plenty of time to throw things away.”

Of course, I’m thinking, “at least he’ll have some nice balloons to look at, wherever he goes.”

“You Just have to Laugh….”

©2015 Cathy Sikorski

 

 

Who you gonna’ call…Dustbusters…….

Caregivers, Humor, Medicare, Multiple Sclerosis, Uncategorized, , , ,

So the saga for my brother-in-law continues. Of course it does, I’m a caregiver.

He had surgery yesterday. Finally, after 12 weeks in rehab of staying in bed with a shop vac on his behind to suck the wound into a better place. I don’t know, that’s what they tell me. It’s actually called a wound vac…but it’s a mini shop vac that stays on the wound 24 hours a day to help the healing process.

My Mom, a nurse from the ’40’s says all they really had to do was keep that wound clean and dry and open to the elements. That’s what Rosie the Riveter nurses used to do and it worked fine. Of course, because his wound is on his bottom he would have had to be lying on his stomach for 12 weeks, with his derriere on display for the world to see. So I’ll take the shop vac method. Plus, if he takes home the vac, maybe it can double as a Dustbuster.

Surgery is a resounding success. The only downside is he cannot be in a sitting position for 4 to 6 weeks. I know. Maybe solitary confinement and water-boarding would be more pleasant. But what are you going to do? The problem with these damn bed sores is that they don’t heal if you don’t stay off of them. And ironically, as bed sores, you can’t stay off of them easily if you are, well, in bed, which is where they insist he stay.

So, now the protocol is that he must be lying on his side or flat on his back at all times.

My brother-in-law is an engineer. He’s actually a rocket scientist as he worked in that industry.

His first question is:

“How do I eat?”

This drives me crazy.

Not only is it not rocket science and he is a rocket scientist, he can’t figure out how he’s going to eat.

By the way, his engineering brain wants to kill me every time I have to do something with his wheelchair or tray table and I can’t figure out the best engineering way to handle it. I’m actually on his side, when he yells at me. I am NOT an engineer. I have no spatial skills whatsoever. I can’t play pool because I don’t get it. Physics eludes me. So when he is trying to explain to me how to turn the tray table around the OTHER WAY so that the feet don’t bump into his cath bag, and I just keep shoving…well he wins the frustration game that day.

MilkshakeBack and forth we go the caregiver and the caregivee with our remarkable skill sets and loss of patience for each other’s nincompoopery (I’m absolutely positive that’s a word in the caregiving lexicon).

So when he can’t figure out that he will have to lie on his side and chew and swallow the best he can, and have as many milkshakes as nature will allow to keep his calories up, and that we won’t starve him. He will have help like he’s always had these last years, well I want to …………..say a prayer of thanks that I can help. (Not really but I wanted to look better than the jerk I am in this moment).

“You Just have to Laugh…..”

©2015 Cathy Sikorski

One is Silver and the Other’s Gold…….

Brain Injury, Caregivers, Humor, Uncategorized, , , , ,

Remember in high school this conversation, usually in the girls’ bathroom:

“Oh my God, he’s so cute. I hope he asks  me out!”

“Oh my god he IS SO CUTE!,” replied your girlfriend in the next stall.

Of course this was before you could text between stalls.

My friend Lisa, is going to her high school reunion for the first time. It’s her 45th reunion. Add 18 to that and you have deciphered the age of most of the participants with a certain very tiny margin of error of no more than a year, unless they had an unusually high percentage of child geniuses in her small upstate New York town. I feel quite certain this was one of their former conversations four decades ago.

Oddly, Lisa attended a singing event in that same small upstate New York town several months ago. She made a special effort to contact some old high school friends and voila! She was convinced by these dear, kind friends from the past to make a special effort to get to that reunion.

Since her traumatic brain injury, Lisa does not drive and no one from her high school lives anywhere near her. But these old pals from the past, whom she hasn’t seen in a very long time, have agreed to drive many hours to come pick her up and the same many hours to return her safe and sound to her home.

This has restored my faith in humanity.

Lisa hasn’t seen these people from high school in many years. She hasn’t spoken to several of them at all since high school ended. And yet, these girls (yes, I’m going to call them that) are willing to make big sacrifices to get her transported, housed and taken care of so that they can all reminisce about their teenage lives.

I have been know to comment that “high school never ends”, and not in a good way. I have seen cattiness, jealousy and spitefulness continue among high school compatriots all around me. And, of course, we see it as a staple in reality TV like “Real Housewives” of anywhere, “The Bachelor(ette)”and any “reality” show requiring contestants to compete for attention, living space, food, or screen time so they can be famous. This is high school behavior at its finest. Small-minded, petty, self-serving behavior. It might be fun to watch, but it’s really not fun to be in the midst of it.

Life has continued to become a popularity contest, and not in a good way. What else would you call a host of mudslinging, bully tactics designed to make your opponent look bad in the eyes of the student body…oh a political campaign, that’s right.

I am one of those few lucky girls who even after 40 years of  high school,  still regularly sees my high school girlfriends who are a rock solid foundation of support, fun, and constant joy in  my life.

That my friend, Lisa, has rediscovered the possibility that old friends could be ‘gold’ does my heart good.

This, of course, did not exempt any of these 60-something women from having a big internet powwow in the last few days about whose old boyfriend will be showing up and which of those might be single and a possible “love connection.”

I imagine those ladies in the girls’ bathroom this weekend when they see their former flames saying:

“Oh my God, he’s still so cute, I wonder if he’s single?”

“Oh my God, he is cute, and he has his own teeth AND HIS OWN HAIR?!?!?”

See, high school never ends…….no, really, it’s true. If only you knew that when you were in high school.

“You Just have to Laugh………..”

©2015 Cathy Sikorski

Kelly, Kelly, Kelly, Kelly…….

Caregivers, Humor, Multiple Sclerosis, Uncategorized, , , , ,

I have been trying for 3 weeks to get physical therapy for my brother-in-law. He is in rehab but has to stay in bed for healing purposes. My argument is that there’s no reason he can’t be doing upper body strength training and exercise to keep those muscles from getting weak.

I asked five different people and everyone was going to “get back to me.”

This is what happened when I was in the rehab center and  they actually did:

Nurse 1: “Gee I don’t know about therapy ,let me go check. I’ll come back and tell you.”

Nurse 2: “Well, we are nursing. You will have to talk to Physical Therapy. Go downstairs to the Physical Therapy room and ask for Kelly, she is the Director.

So downstairs I go. In the  Physical Therapy conference room are 5 people. They all have name badges. I talk to the one wearing the name badge ,”Kelly.”

Kelly 1: ” Well, let me look at the register. ”

She doodles around on the computer for a few minutes.

Kelly 1:”Hmmm.I thought I could tell you why your brother-in-law is not getting therapy, but I have no idea. I’m going to have to talk to my supervisor.”

Me: “Okay. I’m going back upstairs, you can get me there. By the way, who are we waiting to talk to?”

Kelly 1: “Kelly.”

Me:(very slowly and deliberately,so I get this right)”But…. aren’t…. you……. Kelly?”

Kelly 1: “Oh there are three Kellys.”

Great. Back to my brother-in-law’s room I go. I am greeted there by Nurse 2.

Nurse 2: “I found out that your brother-in-law doesn’t qualify for therapy.”

Now this is where they expect me to say, “oh,okay.” I don’t do that…… not ever, never. I say things like:

Me: “Why?”

Nurse 2: “I have no idea, I’m nursing.”

With that dandy tidbit, in comes the Social Worker, Courtney, one of the first five people I asked about physical therapy.

Courtney 1:  “We just had a meeting with Kelly(presumably Kelly2) and she said he doesn’t qualify for therapy.”

Me: “Crazy question here….why?”

Courtney 1: “Well because his surgeon said he can’t get out of bed into a chair yet.”

Me: “I know, I talked to the surgeon’s office and they don’t know why you translated that into, ‘he should turn into a useless vegetable with no muscle mass until his wound heals.’ Which is why I had the surgeon’s office call you to say he could have physical therapy of his upper body in his bed.”

SpicyNurse 2: “Oh yes. They did call me. That girl on the phone was rather ‘spicy’ demanding that he get physical therapy and that they never said he couldn’t have it.”

Spicy? Really, a doctor’s office wants their patient to get some appropriate care and that’s spicy????

With that I look at Nurse 2, she looks at Courtney 1, and well, there we are, in a spicy conundrum.

Me: “Get him therapy, now. I don’t care how many Kellys it takes.” Wondering if that was spicy enough to get something done.

That was yesterday…..waiting for a spicy response any minute now.

“You Just  have to Laugh…..”

©2015 Cathy Sikorski

 

 

 

Another One Rides The Bus…..

Brain Injury, Caregivers, Humor, Uncategorized, , , , , ,

For some reason, my friend, Lisa likes to be featured in this blog. So here we go.

For medical reasons, a traumatic brain injury, Lisa had  to give up her driver’s license several years ago. Eventually, she became quite savvy and capable of taking public transportation. In her small town, that means the bus. A perk, if you would like to call it that, of being on Medicare, is that you get to ride the bus for free. Otherwise it costs a dollar.

Lisa has been riding this bus for a few years now. Until recently, all she had to do was to show her Medicare card to the bus driver, and she was allowed to take a seat, gratis.

Apparently, there’s a new sheriff in town.

A few weeks ago she had this encounter with a female bus driver, whom she never saw before.

“Sorry, ma’am, but you need a special card to ride the bus as a Medicare rider.”

“No,” said Lisa, “I don’t. I have been just showing my Medicare card for years and that is sufficient.”

“No, you need the special card,” said the bus driver.

“Since when?”

“I don’t know. I just know  you need it.”

“I’ve never even seen ‘the special card’, “said Lisa.

“Well, I’ll let you go this time, but you need to get it.”

Lisa never saw that bus driver again. Since she didn’t know where to get the special card, she just let it pass.

The other day, as she was getting on the bus, there was a new young male bus driver, whom Lisa had never seen before. He’s holding a pamphlet in his hand as she ascends the stairs.

“How old are  you?”

Lisa, thinking he is complimenting her……as every middle-aged woman thinks when handing a Medicare card as ID, replies a bit quietly so as not to alarm fellow passengers who most likely think she is quite young:

“I’m 63.”

“Well, you’re barely that, I can see.”

Lisa is flattered,until he drops his bombshell.

“You can’t ride the bus for free. You have to be 65 years old.”

“I’m disabled and I’ve been doing it for years.”

dollar“Nope. Not allowed. Here’s the brochure. It’s a dollar.”

I’m happy to say here that my friend Lisa has come a long way since that TBI. Not only does she get around on her own. But after many years of trepidation just being out in the world, well, she doesn’t take crap anymore. Yay, Lisa!

“What’s  your name?”She demanded from this arrogant brute, who was so willingly ready to accost the disabled and the elderly.

“Well,ma’am,” he sheepishly replied, “if you don’t have the dollar today, you can pay next time.”

This bus driver was on a mission to save that bus company a dollar, or take a power trip every stop along the way, or who knows what, maybe her bus driver was Donald Trump in disguise and he was testing some of his new economic policies to see how to save government funds.

Never did give her his name…and…..weirdly, she hasn’t seen that bus driver again, either.

For a dollar…..did I say that already?…………..a dollar.

“You Just have to Laugh…..”

©2015 Cathy Sikorski

 

Check, please!

Humor, Uncategorized, , , , , ,

My girlfriends and I decided to meet for a drink. We hardly ever do this. Now I know why.

We were finding it difficult to get together and one of the girls was heading down South to see her new adopted grandson, so we wanted to wish her well and just catch up with each other.

Two of us had an adult beverage and two of us tee-totaled(is that a verb?). Our waiter was a very solicitous gentleman. Younger than us, but not a young man. He patiently waited for us to chat and returned a few times before we were ready to order.

When we told him we were through, he kindly, without one look of exasperation or even surreptitiously rolling his eyes, went for the decaf coffee pot when we changed our minds and decided to have coffee.

We gals had a great time showing pictures from recent weddings, talking about vacations taken and vacations to come, sharing yet another story about our Moms…yes even at our age, we still kvetch about our Moms!!!! And passing along those not-so-fun anecdotes about other friends and relatives that seep into a middle-aged conversation about health, wellness, and mortality.

TestWhen the check came, the first intrepid woman just asked the waiter to put her charges on her credit card, which he did. That left the rest of us to do the math from the check which, by default, included her charges as well.

This is the problem when people trust you or worse think you’re smart.

Even when the waiter told us the club soda was free, we still just threw in a bunch of bills when we couldn’t make sense of what was owed. I told the waiter: “if the tip is inappropriate, please come back and tell us.

He came back alright.

“Did you kind ladies really mean to leave a $14.00 tip on a $11.00 bill?” he inquired.

NOW, what do you do?

Flirtatiously and adorably for a gaggle of women in their 50’s we said, “Sure!”

From a former waitress, every once in a while you just need to leave a ginormous tip for your server. It will make their day, trust me. It would be nice to know, though, that that is what you are doing, so you could feel good about it.

After more than 40 years of friendship, I am no longer allowed to look at the check, or in the alternative, I must have a drink first. I may be sharper with an adult beverage.

“You just have to Laugh……”

©2015 Cathy Sikorski

Hello? Hello? Anybody there……?

Caregivers, Humor, Multiple Sclerosis, Uncategorized, , , , , , , ,

For a few years, I have been telling my girlfriends  (yes we old people still call our friends who are girls, “girlfriends”), that we should consider bank robbery as a new career since no one is every looking at us or paying attention to us. Pretty sure that was Diane Keaton’s idea in the movie, Mad Money…and then realized it was because it was written by Callie Khouri of Thelma and Louise fame.

So yesterday, when I went to the hospital to find out the status of my brother-in-law, I was still taken aback by events clearly attached to my age, and my apparent Invisibility Cloak that  I forgot to remove.

Weirdly, I was very dressed up because I had just been interviewed on a television show

Killer Caregiver on the Loose and On TV!
Killer Caregiver on the Loose and On TV!

about my new book: Showering with Nana: Confessions of a Serial (killer) Caregiver. Sure why shouldn’t I give myself a shameless plug here in case you missed it!

So when I went to the nurse’s station asking for information, I was told he was being discharged in two hours.

Imagine my surprise, as no one had called me to discuss his medical condition, I had no idea why he was in the hospital let alone leaving the hospital. I was informed that his nurse would come to his room to discuss all that with me in a few moments, as she was busy with another patient.

Okay.

A young woman walked into his room in scrubs.

“Are you his nurse?” I asked, hopefully, as time was ticking by and his transport was coming and I still had no idea about his medical status.

“No,” she said a bit bewildered, “I’m a doctor. I’m here to look at his wound.”

“Well, you better hurry because he’s leaving in an hour and you can’t do it yourself as his wound is on his backside and someone would need to help you turn him over.” Translation: I’m not the one who is going to do that.

Never saw her again.

His nurse arrives and I ask, ” I understand he is going back to rehab in an hour, I just want to know what was determined about his medical condition. Are they changing any of his meds and what did they decide as to what happened to him?”

“Well, I don’t know that. You’re going to have to let me go get his discharge papers.”

“Okay?”

When she returned, she started reading his med list to me. And I would ask what is that for? How long will he take it, etc.

“Ugh, you will JUST HAVE TO LET ME READ THIS TO YOU.” It was like she was reading aloud and just discovered that someone was actually in the room with her.

Stopped her right there.

Very quietly and calmly I said to her: “You need to stop talking to me this way. Your attitude is hurting my feelings. I can’t “hear” you if you can’t stop being mean. ”

“I’m sorry if you feel that way, ” she countered.

“I do, and you need to get the attitude out of  your voice.”

AND THEN,  we were able to have a medical discussion about our joint patient.

Regardless of the adorable hot pink dress I was wearing, that clearly does NOT make me look young, hip and in-the-know like I had imagined, I was at least able to demand some respect, if I couldn’t get it by default.

Since when did ‘middle-aged woman (okay  maybe a bit OVER the middle part) equal stupid? Please see this article below, which is a much more erudite, clever and a possible workshop for those of us navigating these waters!

The insults of age

A one-woman assault on condescension

BY HELEN GARNER 

 

https://www.themonthly.com.au/issue/2015/may/1430402400/helen-garner/insults-age

 

One thing many of us seem to  have in common is that we know:

“You Just have to Laugh……” You can tell by our laugh lines!

© Cathy Sikorski 2015

Send in the Clowns…..Don’t Bother, They’re Here

Caregivers, Humor, Multiple Sclerosis, Uncategorized, , , , , , , ,

I’m thinking about asking the wheelchair repair guy if he wants to do a comedy act together.

Before I left the country for 2 weeks, I called the wheelchair repair guy (let’s call him Mike, well, because that’s his name).

“Mike,” I said, “the wheel on my brother-in-law’s chair is torn to shreds. It makes the chair bump around like he’s driving the post-Apocalyptic pothole roads from the Winter of 2015. And he’s inside….on carpet. Please get it fixed ASAP.”

“Okay,” said Mike.

The problem here is, I believed him. I knew it would be fixed, eventually.  I just hoped that with a two week lead and a few well placed reminders by my assistant, it might be close to being done when I returned.

Mike obviously spent the time shopping for a big red nose.

When I noticed my brother-in-law bumping down the hallway on my return. I sighed that exasperated sigh that we all save for just such an occasion. My exasperated assistant let me know that she even contacted Mike with the very complicated schedule of when the chair was in use or my brother-in-law was resting in bed. This was due to the fact that Mike reminded her, no one can be in the wheelchair when it is being repaired. There was even a nice little 4 day period where BIL was in the hospital, so no one was using the chair. My assistant gave that little nugget to Mike as a bonus, if he wanted to send his guy over there at ANY time of the day or night.

I called 15, 16, 18, 19 and 21 days after my first call to find out why oh why, Magic Mike can you not get your sh*&%t together and get this chair repaired? Are you practicing your own comedy routine? Are you shaping up your abs for your next film role? What is so damn important that it takes 21 days to get someone out to fix this one little wheel?

“Hello, Cathy?”

“Hi, MIke, is the chair finally fixed? You said someone would do it on Monday or Tuesday and now it is Wednesday.”

Faster than Mike. Smarter too.
Faster than Mike. Smarter too.

“Oh, no, someone has to look at the chair first, determine what parts are needed, get insurance company approval, and then physician approval.”

We’ve gone from a comedy routine to a cartoon, as steam is now exploding out both my ears.

“So all those times you said you couldn’t come because he couldn’t be in the chair, was so that you could just look at it? Let me ask you something. Couldn’t someone just look at  the chair even if he is in it?”

“Well, I guess so. But you said he was in the hospital.” How this even makes sense, I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure “Who is on first.”

“Mike, we don’t let the chair go to the hospital with my brother-in-law. The chair has proven it doesn’t know how to behave itself in public places, so when he goes to the hospital we make the chair stay home, by itself. That’s why every time he goes to the hospital, we call you to let you know no one will be in the chair for days.”

“Oh. Well, we looked at it so it will get repaired when all the approvals come in.”

Twenty-one days to look at it. I wonder if I can start sexting pictures of the wheelchair in compromising positions when I need it repaired in the future, so that Mike can definitely say they looked at it?

“You Just have to Laugh………..”

© Cathy Sikorski 2015

 

The best laid plans……………

Caregivers, Humor, Multiple Sclerosis, Uncategorized, , , ,

I have literally spent more than 10 hours (probably more like 20) trying to figure out what new Medicare insurance plan to choose for my brother-in-law. He currently pays for his insurance through his former employer. They have chosen to get out of the business of supplying insurance carriers for their retirees, so by the end of May, all retirees have to choose a new Medicare Plan.

When I first got the booklet for this, I was sure it was a scam. These Medicare Insurance companies that ‘help’ you choose a plan are suspect to me. But I called his employer. All I wanted to know is if it was a scam. I didn’t want any specific information about my BIL or his account as a retiree.

I had to jump through a billion hoops (this is not included in the 10 hours above), prove my POA status, give them all my BIL’s vital statistics and THEN, they needed a PIN number. Somehow, the one I had was expired. So I asked for a new PIN which had to be snail-mailed to me.  I finally convinced the representative to at least just tell me if the Medicare company was a scam. She relented and said no, it was not a scam….but that was ALL she was going to tell me until I got my new pin number.

business-19156_1280Already, I’m exhausted. But I push forward. I go on the website. I enter every medication, every doctor and all the vital stats. Two hours later, they give me a proposal of 18 Medigap policies to compare with 26 Medicare Advantage policies and 20 Medicare Part D Prescription Drug Plans to add to the comparison. For those of you who may struggle with math, that is 64 plans I should look at to compare and contrast to choose the best one for my BIL. And choose, I must, because as of May 31, 2015, they will automatically cancel his current insurance.

This got me thinking, What if this information was sent to my BIL and he had no one to help him wade through it? First of all, it’s a website. There are  in fact, still some people, many of the  Medicare Age Variety who are not computer savvy, hell, who don’t even have a computer. Yes, snobby Medicare helpers, everyone on the planet doesn’t have a computer. Now my BIL is very computer savvy, but he can’t really type anymore.
And he doesn’t really read anymore, because comprehension and retention elude him often. And he for sure, isn’t going to decide to read through Medicare plans as a fun hobby.

I am considered an expert in this field of Elder Law issues, including Medicare Insurance. And I completely UNDERSTAND what I’m reading. I am expected to find the nuances and loopholes in 64 different plans that best serves my BIL. And even I find this daunting.

And once I choose I am in a quandary. This special circumstance where they are cancelling his policy is considered an opportunity for open enrollment with no underwriting. In other words, nobody is looking at the fact that he has a myriad of health issues which would kick him out of any health insurance otherwise. So once I’m there, I’m never going to be able to leave without a problem.

My point is this. I’m exhausted. My severly disabled BIL, on his own would have probably missed this whole need to do this and be without health insurance. How many retirees from this major Fortune 500 company are struggling with this project? Even though it’s a great website and the advisors are pretty good at their job…I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING, AND IT’S STRESSING ME OUT.  The choosing is a nightmare.

I know, three months from now I’m going to hear from the new insurance company that Oh that’s not covered, oh that has a huge copay, oh he can’t have that NEW drug that he wasn’t on when you chose this plan.

The only thing that makes me laugh now is laughter of relief. But don’t worry, I’m plotting revenge somehow and you will be the first to know!

“You just have to Laugh…..”

© 2015 Cathy Sikorski