For context: The main issue that I've been struggling with over the last weeks is the fact that my Hot Mom has been ill. She's been having increasingly serious problems with her back over the last several months due to osteoarthritis and several bulging disks, and the last few weeks have brought matters to a head.
Health insurance makes Mos Eisley look like a Garden Club
My Hot Mom is a Medicare patient with a supplemental policy through her former employer. This state of affairs leads to an endless morass of regulations. In fact, the regulations have regulations. And the bureaucracy is enough to make someone consider assisted suicide rather than try to get the type of help seniors need on a regular basis.The main reason that my Mother's health issues have taken so long to diagnose and treat is that everyone is afraid of, and in thrall to, the regulations surrounding Medicare and supplemental insurance. The MRI that she had done IN NOVEMBER (after having to wait until it was cleared with guess who, the insurance companies) clearly shows the root cause of her excruciating pain, and yet it took months to get that data to the right person who, after taking one look, said, "Oh, yes, this is very straight-forward, and a surgical solution is really the only thing that will relieve the symptoms. How does tomorrow look for you?" Meanwhile, while everyone was fucking around with the insurance companies, my mother was suffering increasingly debilitating pain to the point that the simple act of standing was bringing her to tears.
Crap on a cracker, how is this okay?
Village of the Damned
Prior to taking my Mother to the Emergency Room on Saturday and forcing the issue, we thought that she was going to need residential care as a stop-gap measure until she could be seen and evaluated by a surgeon and pain management specialist. So I did some research and made some visits.On the plus side, I found a facility that was clean, bright, cheerful, well-maintained and staffed, and appeared to be making real efforts to make their residents comfortable. Of course they had over 100 people on the waiting list.
On the minus side, I found a facility that reminded me of nothing so much as a 1940's era flophouse. Dirty, ill-lit, poorly maintained, loud, cramped and the entire facility smelled strongly of urine. And I have news for the horribly matter-of-fact woman who gave me my "tour:" All Nursing Homes are not dirty, ill-lit, poorly maintained, loud, cramped and smell strongly of urine. They just aren't. The fact of the matter is that you, Madame, work in a shithole and I wouldn't consider kenneling my dog there. So you can just fuck right off with your rationalizations. Just walking through that place literally brought me to tears. I can't imagine being forced to make a decision like that for my Hot Mom, but I know families are required to do so, each and every day, for financial and other reasons. What a horrible, depressing state of affairs, and I'm endlessly relieved that our own situation did not put me or my Hot Mom in such an untenable position.



