12 November 2024
I was supposed to get my head examined today but the scan conflicted with Joyce's biweekly debridement at the clinic. So I'll get my head examined tomorrow, if I don't lose it before then.
I had a few chances today.
I just missed the 43 Masonic to Geary so I had to wait a few minutes for the next one. That would mean I'd just barely get to the clinic with the dressing supplies before Joyce.
As I was waiting a nicely dressed young woman with a small dog asked me how to get to Ninth and Lincoln. Her boyfriend who works for Muni, she said, told her to take the 48 (which she'd just done) and catch the 43. But she needed the 44, not the 43. So I told her to take the 43 to Forest Hill station at the foot of the hill and transfer to the 44.
Then the little dog did its business in the school parking lot. Lovely.
By the time I walked down the hill to the clinic, I just made it before the 11:30 appointment. But Joyce wasn't there.
The ambulance transport had gone to the house, not the SNF. Both Kaiser and the SNF know where Joyce is. I was amazed the transport knew where the house is. We must be famous among ambulance transports now.
So she would be an hour late.
That wouldn't be a problem, Nate told me. But she had a $10 copay so Nate offered to bill her because she wasn't coming with cash.
Meanwhile it became a problem. Dr. Tong was called for an emergency and couldn't wait for Joyce.
But while she was waiting to find out if she really had to go, she came out and talked to me. I brought her up to date on Joyce's condition and mood and she kindly asked if I still have double vision.
We talked about getting the Wound Care Center more involved. I reminded her we've been seeing Jennifer Spitnale every month.
The problem is transport. At $500 a round trip it isn't feasible. The monthly charge for three trips would be $1,500.
I mentioned the SNF was worried about a pseudomonas infection in the wound, which would be a first. She said they'd take a culture. If the wound is infected, she may have her returned to the hospital.
She did have to attend the emergency so when Joyce arrived on the gurney looking quite pale at 12:30 as our friend Paula was texting me about taking cabs, it was Lady the RN who took the culture and did the dressing change. But no surgeon so no debridement.
On the gurney's way out, though, Lady ran out to stop it. She couldn't find the culture. She looked all over the gurney before concluding it must still be in the room. And it was. So Joyce left.
I stayed to make arrangements to get a copy of the wound dressing order. Just to make sure anyone who needs one, gets one. Nate took down my email address.
I took the 38 Geary up the hill to shop for a bag full of groceries at Trader Joe's before catching the 43 home. I'd usually shop for groceries with Holly on Wednesdays but I have to have my head examined.
I wasn't home long, though, because I had three bills to pay. So I walked down to the village to pay them.
I got a call on the long slog up the hill home but didn't answer it. A voicemail said it was from Lauren, a social worker at the SNF. So I called her back when I got home.
We had the old what-things-cost and what-can-you-afford chat. Nothing actually is affordable. I didn't tell her but we'd have to create a trust that owned the house, get a reverse mortgage and hope there would be enough to care for both of us as we wither away. Not my idea of a plan. But neither is paying someone $160 a day to watch TV until Joyce yells for help.
The healthcare system seems to rely on unpaid help to function. Like all the friends that are transporting me to Daly City every day to see Joyce and myself as her disabled care advocate.
Really, we should all have our heads examined.