Tuesday, November 18, 2014

too strong for too long

It happened again this morning, a spontaneous combustion type deal where I just started sobbing over the complexity of all things Poopie. The social worker at the home noticed me all teary eyed and pulled me in her office for some one on one that included a discussion of how my generation is gonna' be screwed when it comes to long term care. Her parents are in the same age group and she feels bad for all of us! Social work as a vocation has been mostly privatized and turned into a cash cow so "wanting to help people" has turned into jumping through hoops with the powers that be, mainly the government. We both agreed that Haslam, Alexander and Corker slammed all of us in the state of Tennessee by refusing to expand Medicaid. In my tenure as a healthcare provider I've seen the whole package turn from local providers to big fish eating little ones. That many politicians (see Rick Scott, Bill Frist, et al) have made millions from the industry is sickening and the biggest conflict of interest ever. Do.No.Harm.

In order to qualify Mom for Medicaid to pay for her lengthy stays at hospitals/rehabs this year I was missing one important piece of info which was the specifics of her teeny tiny term insurance policy that may or may not exist. Daddy swears it's in the safe which nobody has the combination to so there ya' go...another dead end. Ms Faye and I looked all around the area where it was last seen and found seven year old trash in an antique butter churn but no combination. Ain't no telling ya'll. He also can't find the little space heater they used in the bathroom last winter and that's another mystery. Lord only knows what goes on down there because nobody is welcome. As long as I live I will never forget sorting through his "office" when my brother took over the farm management. The floor of his little "office" was knee deep in papers and crap. It was a rocky conversion, to say the least. My brother, the owner and I sat at my kitchen table and sorted for hours.

BG and I started this morning in a cold car holding hands in prayer for strength, clarity and hope. One of our many issues is that the 95 Cadi DeVille is dead and needs some TLC. I was introduced to my friend Sara's son at Money Mike's place and he turned out to be today's blessing with his knowledge about car parts. I didn't have the keys on me so we'll have to catch up later but it's a start. I also touched base with the owner of the business where it's parked and he promised not to tow.

While I was at the home this morning I sat and talked with mom while she did work that included batting a bright blue balloon with two therapists standing close by interacting. She did well for someone who can't see and can barely stand. Watching her eyes dance as she successfully completed a few long volleys made me smile in amazement, and then the waterworks started for me. Fatigue and frustration have taken me way past the point of being sane. In her last rant, she told us that we have no idea what it's like to be separated from someone you've been with night and day for 60 years. I can't argue with that truth at all. She and Daddy are part of a dying breed that married for life and enjoyed the decades of prosperity following WWII. How sad that pretty soon nobody will be alive who remembers those times of simplicity.

She told the pregnant therapist about when I was born and she and Daddy lived at UT Martin taking turns tending to me at night because I slept all day and woke up when the sun went down. Even then, I was a force to be reckoned with.
Sometimes, the faithful just need a miracle to keep going.


No comments:

Post a Comment