11 February 2025
I was simply too tired to write up yesterday's encouraging news yesterday. But today wasn't nearly as encouraging, just the opposite, so it's probably better to see the two days together to appreciate what's going on.
MONDAY
This would be the 101st day of Medicare coverage at Golden Heights. But Medicare only covers 100 days. So this would be the first day of private care at $14,000/month or (roughly) $500/day. If she qualifies for Medi-Cal, that would be $4,000/month or $134/day. Which is less than the cheapest room-and-board (a dismal place), which started at $5,500.
That's what I was thinking as I bussed over there early to be sure I could leave in time for my 2 p.m. call with the Kaiser ombudsman about her multiple $250 co-payments for ill-advised transports from the hospital home and back again.
When I get there I find Joyce is in bed with the lights off in the middle of the day.
I turn on the light behind her bed and get her shoes. "What are you doing?" "What I always do," I tell her. "Getting you up for lunch."
This time I tell her she has to sit up because she has a bed sore under her diaper from laying in bed so much.
She doesn't give me much of an argument today, though.
And as I move her, the speech therapist comes in. She has a special lunch to try. Half of each item is a scoup and the other half is whole. She wants to see how Joyce swallows the whole food.
So I roll her out to the hallway and she eats a little. She likes the solid food. And has no trouble swallowing, the speech therapist notes. So she'll change the diet to normal food, small bites, with extra sauce. And ice cream (which I suggested) and shakes.
She tells Joyce she's skinny. She's lost too much weight. "No I haven't," Joyce argues.
I tell the speech therapist I have been requesting a normal diet since December because of the weight loss. She's shocked. "I only heard about it now," she says. "Let me know if she gags on anything," she adds. And how do I do that I ask. "Tell the nurse." Yeah, that worked.
We roll around the place a bit so she can sit in the sun on the north end of the unit behind the sliding door facing south. I also weigh her. The same 122 lbs. So the last three times she's weighed the same, which is good news.
Then I bring her back to the room, reminding her to sit up as long as she can to help heal the bed sore. Which is when the RNAs come in to get her up for a walk.
She doesn't complain but gets right up and walks 60 feet with two breaks to sit down in the chair. Much better than the other day. Still screaming to sit down but she gets up again quickly to finish the run. She promises them she'll do 90 feet tomorrow.
By then I have to leave.
I make it home with just 10 minutes to spare. It was close but there's enough time to make some coffee and answer the phone.
David he Kaiser Ombudsman tells me what he found out about Joyce's six ambulance rides from late last year and I confess the various billing and phone calls I've made have only confused me. SFFD says, for example, Kaiser has paid one and will likely pay the other two, but did they mean the copay of $250 too? And he tells me Medicare doesn't cover transport for anyone in our ZIP code. Somehow it's ZIP code based.
It's such a mess we agree to meet in person at the hospital Thursday afternoon so he can look over the billings I keep getting. I may just see about my February CTscan then, too.
By then the mail has come with another invoice from SFFD, who answered all the 911 calls from the house. Baffling.
TUESDAY
Again I find Joyce in bed with the light off. I get her shoes and explain she has to get in the chair to eat lunch. And she rouses herself as I put her shoes on and move her legs to the edge of the bed.
But she can't get up on the walker. This may be because I've lowered the bed to get her feet on the floor so the angle is too low. Except the two RNAs that come in to get her up have the same trouble even after raising the bed a bit. Joyce makes an awkward turn and falls halfway into the chair. I lift her from the armpits to settle her in.
We go into the hall so she can have her lunch after she endorses the State Farm refund check I brought. It has both our names on it and needs both our signatures.
Lunch is cheese tortellini (real ones not a scoop of pulverized ones), garlic bread (ditto) and green beans (cut small but whole). There are some whole mandarin orange pieces too.
But she hardly eats. I encourage her to try this or take a bite of that or try one more tortellini or just take a bit of the bread without the crust (after I cut it in half).
It's a fight to get her to take two bites of everything. But she chews and swallows normally without choking or gagging.
I check with Eric the RN who dispenses the medications to see if she's been given the Memantine yet. He says yes but has to struggle with the cart computer to find out how long she's been on it. Since Feb. 6, he tells me. Until March 6, he adds. At least until then, I think.
I roll her around the place a bit and take her to the gym but she won't do more than five arm rotations at a time on the Spirit Cycle. And won't get on the SciFit at all.
So I take her back to the room to sit up for a while and watch TV. She picks some cartoons to watch.
The RNAs don't come to walk her before I have to leave. But it doesn't seem like she'll walk today anyway.
I stop at the bank on my way home to deposit the refund in her account after I endorse the check too.
The teller says I have to write "Payable to Joyce Abbott" since it's going into her account. So I do that, congratulating myself on not trying to just endorse it with a "For Deposit Only" on my way in this morning. I avoided a little frustration for once.
Small consolation.