Tag Archives: Hospital

Every time I think I’m out…..

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The holiday season does not have an internal compass that allows you to treat every day like a holiday. In fact, I’m pretty sure that MORE, not less disasters happen during the holiday season, just as a karmic reminder that in life, there is no holiday. But a few days off can really re-charge the batteries, if you’re lucky.

I am so sleep deprived, it’s like being the mother of an infant all over again. But I have no baby to blame it on. Menopause, hot flashes, holidays, alcohol, too much food, not enough gym,those are the culprits….oh yeah, and shoulder pain, back pain, and general pain-in-the-ass middle age. That doesn’t help either.

So every time I THINK, “tonight is the night” for sleep (which I’m sure is not the same thing my husband is thinking when he’s thinking, ‘tonight is the night’), I am reminded that no caregiver is ever in her right mind.

The first time I thought this was the day after Christmas. Yay, all the hoopla is over! I can just sleep in. Everyone is well, we are all snug in our beds, no more planning, wrapping, shopping, just the blessed day of rest.

The phone rings at 7:30 AM.

“Hello?”

“Hi Cathy, this is your cousin. My Dad is in the hospital and is having surgery today and he needs to see you.”

“Umm (this because I have 25 cousins and am not sure who woke me out of an ACTUAL sleep). Okay.”

“He’s in ICU, so you have to call and ask the nurse to give him the phone or they will call you back.”

“No, I will go to the hospital, no problem.”

This uncle is my godfather, and I love him dearly. He’s a bit of a Duck Dynasty gun dealer, but I love him anyway.

So I haul myself out of bed at 7:35 AM and go to the hospital. There’s a moratorium on who can see him, ’cause his Duck Dynasty pals can be a bit overbearing. So I tell the squawk box:

“I’m here to see Mr. R, I’m his lawyer and his niece.”

Immediate entrée. I pull this lawyer card when I just don’t have time to deal with any crap. Little do I know this will come back to haunt me. I get to his room and my cousin is there with him.

“Cathy’s here now Dad, do you want to have a private conversation with her?”

“No,”says my Uncle, who is looking pretty good for a guy going into surgery, “I just wanted the hospital and everyone around here to know I have a ‘mouthpiece’ so they better watch out.

Really? I dragged my tired sorry behind out of bed the day after Christmas, so my uncle could have his lawyer as a show piece in the  ICU???? Where am I, ‘The Godfather???’ Oh, yeah, that is EXACTLY where I am.

You just have to Laugh…..

Cathy Sikorski

Never call an ambulance if you’re old…..Part 2

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I think I have spent about $5,000  ( at least in legal time and photocopying) trying  NOT to pay an ambulance bill. I began this tale as one of my first blogs, Do you really need an Ambulance? I think not. I related that my dear 95 year-old mother-in-law was found in pain in her assisted living facility, and the staff correctly called an ambulance. Her pain was evident, so even though she suffered from dementia, which was documented, the ambulance drivers decided to take her to the hospital.

For over a year now, I have been fighting with Medicare to pay this bill. I have told the Ambulance Company, I will not pay this bill, as there is no way my mother-in-law could have made the decision to go to the hospital, let alone  CALL for an ambulance. I do not wish to leave these hard working emergency first responders without pay. However, there has to be some manner in which they can support the patient when the first responders make a medical call, that requires an ambulance.

My mother-in-law does not drive. She has never driven. She has never had a car. In an assisted living facility, she has no transportation to go anywhere without it being directed by someone else. The facility is also doing the right thing by calling for an ambulance for a client who seems to need medical help.

Okay, so we’ve established that everyone who actually PARTICIPATED in this trip to the hospital made a rational and correct decision. The only people who don’t agree with this is Medicare and it’s not even Medicare. It’s a company called CMS, an independent contractor, who assesses whether the claim should be paid. So I send 22 pages of documentation with a letter of explanation telling this independent contractor why they should pay this bill.

The first denial is because this darling old lady really didn’t need to go to the hospital. They found nothing wrong with her and sent her home. Yep…..that’s absolutely true. But, I persist with an appeal.

The SECOND DENIAL is because I have NO AUTHORITY to appeal. I call to clarify this.

” If you would like to leave a message, please leave the appeal number, the claimant’s social security number, the date of service and the provider for which you are appealing. Please leave a phone number and we will return your call.”

YOU CANNOT TALK TO ANYONE…..EVER.

They do call me back, and I explain that I am holding in my hand the appointment of representative form that gives me authority to talk to them AND to APPEAL.

“O well, sometimes Medicare doesn’t send us all the paper work in the file so you need to send it to us again.”

I grind my teeth. Call the ambulance company AGAIN to reply to the bill they have sent ME again, and tell them I am still appealing.

The THIRD DENIAL comes because they still didn’t get my paper work. I call them again and they say….”oops”….and ask me to send it again. I ask the representative to explain to me how I will know if they get it…she says:

“Well you might get a notice that we received it…..wait, no, no I don’t think you will.”

Yesterday, I got the ambulance collection agency notice. They are going to sue my mother-in-law, which I kind of want to let them, because she died.

But I leave a message for the independent contractor, who calls me when I am in a meeting and can’t answer the phone. AND THE MESSAGE IS:

“This appeal was dismissed twice for failure to have the proper paper work to authorize you to appeal.”

I am not fing kidding. I’m not.

I was just going to pay the $797.20 bill. I mean they are just wearing me down to the nub. But I decided to give it one more try. I’m waiting for the return call.

To be continued……

And you really, really do…….

Just have to laugh….

Cathy Sikorski

“A girl should be two things: Classy and Fabulous” Coco Chanel

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My Auntie J from Australia is  fashion plate.  At 90 years of age and barely 90 pounds, she is a wisp of a girl, who never looks anything but chic. Even her ‘sweat suits’ are more along the lines of Juicy Couture than what I wear to the gym. When I met her almost 30 years ago, she was never without a matching handbag for her beautiful and expensive shoes.  In my ignorance of thinking back then(before I realized now how young 60 really is)that this was an ‘old lady’, I was also thinking, “damn, she’s a fine old gal with great taste!”

Up until last week when we had to take her to the hospital for the first time in 25 years, she had her hair done (as a blonde…..never gray) every week, and her nails done as well. She was an extraordinary example of fine grooming, beauty, grace, and the true benefit  of “just a little lipstick, never hurts.”

So after ten days in the hospital, where she was really very, very seriously ill, we took her yesterday to a rehabilitation center. For very complex reasons, she went to a center two hours away. The ambulance drivers were two young adorable men, who treated her like their very own dear grandmother. By the time we met up with them at the end of the trip, she was holding their hands and kissing them goodbye.

She had been very concerned about the fact that she was transported in a hospital gown, but I reassured her that we would take her clothes and pretty pink nightgowns to the rehabilitation center, so she could be properly dressed there.

My husband and I have been very concerned for her health during this time and my mom, a former nurse has been right by our side the whole way, comforting, advising and just being a strong shoulder. But because my mom was a white uniform, starched hat nurse of the 40’s and 50’s, she has looked askance every day at the ‘sloppy’ nurses, aides, and technicians who have come to care for Aunt J.

“Look at that,” my mom would say.

“What?”, I ‘d reply, expecting an inept stick of the needle to draw blood, or a hospital meal that was not up to snuff.

“Look at how that nurse’s trousers are dragging on the floor, and no one has their hair up in a bun or a pony tail.”

“Well,” I say, “I guess we just have to overlook certain things when we are happy with her care.”

Of course, now I’M thinking something is terribly wrong here. And then I realize that my mom has much higher standards for dress and presentation than I, or the world, does any more.

So knowing Aunt J and her true art of dressing and personal presentation, I start to wonder if this is bothering her too. She never says anything and the following incident makes me realize that for Aunt J, it isn’t about how people look to her, it’s about how she presents herself to the world.

We get to the rehab center, and one of the last things I want to make sure of, is that Aunt J knows how to push the red button to call for help. With my mother-in-law, when she moved to assisted living, and with many stories from friends about their elders, I KNOW that this ‘pushing the button for help’ thing is somehow difficult for them to comprehend.

So I disconnect the button from the clips on the side of her bed, and make sure the cord is long enough so she can have the button at her fingertips. This particular button is like a tube with a bright red button at the top.  So you would hold it in your hand, curl your fingers around the tube, and push on the bright red circle at the top of the tube with your thumb. That would be how most people would use it, and probably the easiest way.

I bring the tube close to her, and I pantomime what I want her to learn…pushing the button. And I’m telling her, “if you need help, you push this red button.” I put the tube in her hands and tell her:

“Now you practice. If you need any help, I want you to PUSH THE BUTTON.” And again, I show her what to do.

My darling, beautiful Aunt J, shakes her head in the affirmative, looks me straight in the eye with her beautiful blue-green eyes, looks at the tube that I have placed in her hand with the bright red button on top, takes her other hand, rubs the top with her index finger and promptly ‘applies’ the beautiful shade of red lipstick I have given her to her luscious lips. Classy and Fabulous.

You just have to laugh………………….

Cathy Sikorski

No matter where I go….

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So I volunteered to be on an advisory board for a Catholic elementary school. I know, I know, REALLY? You need to do more volunteer work? But my really good friend, the principal of the school asked, and whenever she asks me to do something I say yes and have regrets later. But THIS time, I figured it’s about little kids, no elders, no Medicare, no Social Security, no nursing homes. Yay….little kids.

The parish priest leads the first meeting, and after we open with a prayer (and boy do I need all the prayers I can get), he tells this quick story.

“So, I’m a power of attorney for one of our parishioners who is 90 years old.”

Oh MY GOD (i’m thinking) REALLY, SERIOUSLY, THIS CANNOT BE HOW THIS MEETING STARTS.

“AND,” says Father, ” he was rushed to the hospital a few days ago, so of course, the hospital called me right away.  I went over there to make sure everything was fine, and they were going to keep him for a few days and then send him to rehab to one of two possible facilities.”

So I’m thinking: okay, he probably had some problem getting him in to the facility that he wanted. Or the elder parishioner had some unexpected medical condition. Nothing new here. And, by the way, I have not yet confessed to this group what my background is.

Father continues:

“The dear man is in the hospital for three days, and I’m waiting for a call because they have told me that he will likely be moved today or tomorrow. So I’m sort of hanging around, trying to stay close to home in case they call or need me for anything. Finally at 2:30 in the afternoon the nurse contacts me and says:

“Hello, Father?”

“Yes? I have been waiting for your call.”

” Well, I guess we should have called you sooner, like BEFORE we released your parishioner from the hospital.”

“REALEASED HIM???!!!! WHERE DID HE GO? He’s 90! He doesn’t drive and I’m the only one who transports him. WHERE IS HE?????

“Oh, he was transported by ambulance to a rehab center.”

“WHICH ONE…. where did you send him?????”

Poor 90 year-old guy, when he got there, he had no idea where he was, why he was there and what was going on. NOT BECAUSE HE HAS DEMENTIA…..he doesn’t……BECAUSE NO ONE TOLD HIM OR HIS CAREGIVERS.

Yup, true story (and I asked Father if I could put it in my blog and he gave me his blessing …and said yes, too)

You just have to laugh…….

Cathy Sikorski

Trick or Treat…Mother Nature’s Halloween joke.

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

One beautiful crimson and golden day in October, and I mean beautiful, I was required to go on a ‘shopping spree’ for a rehab center for my brother-in-law, “L.”  He was recently hospitalized and needed a few weeks or months to get his strength back, so he could return home. The first place they sent him was too challenging, and they basically kicked him out for not trying hard enough to get better. Who am I to judge? The guy has MS, and he knows what it means to exercise or not exercise, the choice is his. But they said, “nope, you’re not trying hard enough and it ruins our success rate.” Well, ok they didn’t say the last part, but we all know that’s what’s going on.

So I had to find a new place and quickly, because he would be booted in a day or two at the most. My Mom and I spent a very long day looking at five different facilities, trying hard to stay with in a 10 to 20 mile radius, so that I could be there on a regular basis to check on him and make sure he was not being neglected.

O my God, what horrific nightmares are out there. The first place was in this absolutely gorgeous, wooded, bucolic setting. And every resident was passed out, drooling, and not engaged in anyway. AND THAT WAS IN THE LOBBY!  The staff was setting up for a Halloween party, and the decorations were as shabby and pathetic as the lobby. The next place, it smelled….and not good.  The next two places were over-crowded, had teeny, tiny therapy rooms and were dirty. O mon Dieu! Je ne sais quoi! Yes, I was thinking in French because I couldn’t even process this in my native tongue.  Finally, we get to the fifth place, and it is okay. And I really mean just okay. I would like it to be cleaner. I would like to hear less commotion in the hallways, with residents who are clearly distressed. I would like there to be more visible staff. But the therapy facility is enormous, the therapists seem very knowledgeable and have specific tools for dealing with MS patients. And there are some younger men here. L gets a private room because there are so few men in rehab. So all in all, we’ll take it. I’m running out of time, I’m exhausted, and I have seen the worst so “okay” will suffice for now. If I need to keep looking, I will, but it’s just temporary and even though it’s the furthest from home, I will come every day in the beginning, to make sure he is properly cared for.

We take hours to complete all the paperwork to get him in there tomorrow. Ugh….me and my Mom are pooped. This is how I thank  her:

“Don’t you dare go to the hospital tonight. I don’t care that you are perfectly healthy.  If anything happens to you, don’t call me. Call your brother, call all of your other five children or any of their offspring, But I cannot deal with one more hospital, medical team, or medical issue for at least three days.”

Mom just laughs at me. She’s perfectly fine and there’s no reason to think otherwise.

The next day, Saturday, I go out to run a few errands, and it begins to snow. ON OCTOBER 29th, WE HAVE A FULL BLOWN BLIZZARD. Now normally, that wouldn’t be so crazy to have snow in October. But we have so much snow and the trees have not yet lost all their leaves. Trees begin to bough and cover everything, and break power lines and hearts with their cruel, beautiful snow-covered, orange and gold autumnal CRAP. I live in the woods. I can’t get down my driveway, until I call my husband who says: “Shake the trees, Cath, the snow will fall off.” (he’s like a genius)

AND THEN, AND THEN, AND THEN, the phone rings.

“Hi, this is Grandma’s assisted living place.” (of course they don’t say that, but you get the idea)

No big deal, I think, they always call me for Depends, or toothpaste, or nicely scented body wash. HA! Nice try.

“Um, your mother fell and is being ambulanced to the hospital 20 miles away (in a blizzard) because she may have hit her head and that’s the only head trauma unit.”

“Ok,” I say weakly, because I forgot to tell my 93 year-old mother-in-law not to dare go to the hospital today.

My husband comes home, and off we go, in the blizzard to the hospital. She did indeed break her hip and will have surgery(and then I will have to find a rehab for her).  Five hours later, we slowly drive home on snow-covered roads, reach our driveway, which now has broken snow-covered trees all over the place. We park in the street, walk gingerly through the snowy trees, and least you think this is some Robert Frost romantic moment,we find out we have no electricity and no heat.

You just have to laugh…..

Cathy Sikorski