Today is New Year's Eve and Dad has made it through another year in this life. Half of his past year was spent in the Geriatric Psych Ward at the West Los Angeles VA Hospital, but as of a few days ago, Dad is now in a skilled nursing facility called Windsor Gardens Convalescent Center in North Long Beach. 3 miles from my house.
Many hiccups along the way prevented him from moving to a home sooner. When I last wrote, we had found a place a couple months ago that would take Dad as long as he wasn't on anti-psychotic drugs. The Psych Ward agreed to wean him off the meds to test his reaction, and as we can all guess, that didn't go well. The aggression was back within days... he scratched a nurse in the face, shoved another nurse, and it took three staff members to bathe him one night because he was being so uncooperative. Soon he was back on Zyprexa and doing much better, but now we had to look at another housing option.
In the meantime, Dad's MediCal case worker called to say that his application was denied because he was already being taken care of by a government facility (the VA), so he didn't qualify for Long Term MediCal. I understand the logic here, but it seems weird that they would deny MediCal to patients who are in a government hospital. The hospital clearly isn't a long term solution or a home. We eventually figured out that we would have to move Dad to a new home, and then immediately re-apply with his new address.
The Social Workers looked into more homes on their contracted list, but finally asked if they could start looking at options outside their list and jurisdiction. I signed a release of information form, and within a week (two days after Christmas), I got a call saying they found a home and could discharge Dad that very day. That was fast.
I checked out the home an hour later. It's clean, bright, and the staff seems attentive. I gave the go-ahead to discharge Dad. As far as payment goes, Dad's Medicare Part A will pay up to 90 days in a skilled nursing facility until the MediCal kicks in. There are co-pays after the 20th day, but we will be reimbursed by MediCal retroactively.
Our favorite part was filling out the MediCal application again. Ugh. But it's in the mail, so now I can go celebrate the end of 2013 tonight. Happy New Year to you all.
Showing posts with label Medical. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Medical. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Monday, September 30, 2013
It's Unfair!
I sit here with salty tear stains on my cheeks and I just want to scream. I know life isn't fair and I know life never really gave my Dad a break, but sometimes I just want to scream, "It isn't FAIR!"
A few weeks ago, the staff at the Psych Ward started talking to us about his discharge. It was pretty evident that the VA home was not going to re-accept him, and I was pretty calm about it. (We always knew that was a strong possibility.) My mom on the other hand was fuming over the phone every time we talked about it. I honestly felt overwhelmed... I didn't have the time or energy to fight this. It takes time to drive to West LA... and babysitters cost money... and getting the right person on the phone is almost impossible... and when I do talk to the right person, I never get a straight answer... and let's not forget that I have my own life!
What imploded my attitude of 'calm acceptance' was the arrival of Dad's MediCal application. Since he has no money, Dad will need to apply for MediCal and that will pay for his new home. I spent the last 3-4 years getting to know the ins and outs of the VA system. We waited 2 1/2 years to get Dad in the VA home. We planned and we were organized, and now we have to start all over with a new system I know nothing about.
Well, Mom, now both of us are fuming (or crying and screaming).
Talking this morning, we feel that we need to exhaust every resource to keep him in the VA home. We don't feel comfortable with anything less. I just got off the phone with two VA Social Workers. I managed to keep it together when I spoke to the Social Worker from the home, and he was receptive to having the Doctor look back over Dad's file now that he seems to be less aggressive. The second Social Worker basically just listened to my concerns and then told me to fill out the MediCal form asap. That's when I started crying on the phone. I really tried to keep it together, but no such luck.
The bottom line is this: Dad has Alzheimer's. All of his behavioral issues and motor functions are affected by Alzheimer's. So, for the VA ALZHEIMER'S home to kick Dad out because he is aggressive or because he lost the ability to walk and has a restraint around his stomach keeping him from falling out of his chair -- is UNFAIR. It's all a part of Alzheimer's. And that is why we are fuming.
On another note, we are once again participating in The Long Beach Walk to End Alzheimer's. And team "UpsidetoDementia" is fired up! Click on the link to learn more, to register, or to donate to end this disease! Kristen's Walk Page
A few weeks ago, the staff at the Psych Ward started talking to us about his discharge. It was pretty evident that the VA home was not going to re-accept him, and I was pretty calm about it. (We always knew that was a strong possibility.) My mom on the other hand was fuming over the phone every time we talked about it. I honestly felt overwhelmed... I didn't have the time or energy to fight this. It takes time to drive to West LA... and babysitters cost money... and getting the right person on the phone is almost impossible... and when I do talk to the right person, I never get a straight answer... and let's not forget that I have my own life!
What imploded my attitude of 'calm acceptance' was the arrival of Dad's MediCal application. Since he has no money, Dad will need to apply for MediCal and that will pay for his new home. I spent the last 3-4 years getting to know the ins and outs of the VA system. We waited 2 1/2 years to get Dad in the VA home. We planned and we were organized, and now we have to start all over with a new system I know nothing about.
Well, Mom, now both of us are fuming (or crying and screaming).
Talking this morning, we feel that we need to exhaust every resource to keep him in the VA home. We don't feel comfortable with anything less. I just got off the phone with two VA Social Workers. I managed to keep it together when I spoke to the Social Worker from the home, and he was receptive to having the Doctor look back over Dad's file now that he seems to be less aggressive. The second Social Worker basically just listened to my concerns and then told me to fill out the MediCal form asap. That's when I started crying on the phone. I really tried to keep it together, but no such luck.
The bottom line is this: Dad has Alzheimer's. All of his behavioral issues and motor functions are affected by Alzheimer's. So, for the VA ALZHEIMER'S home to kick Dad out because he is aggressive or because he lost the ability to walk and has a restraint around his stomach keeping him from falling out of his chair -- is UNFAIR. It's all a part of Alzheimer's. And that is why we are fuming.
On another note, we are once again participating in The Long Beach Walk to End Alzheimer's. And team "UpsidetoDementia" is fired up! Click on the link to learn more, to register, or to donate to end this disease! Kristen's Walk Page
Friday, August 2, 2013
Emotions Run High
The past few weeks, I find that I am either on the verge of tears when I think of Dad or just feeling depressed about him. I actually went an entire week without crying, but then last night after mexican food and some tequila, the tears came again. Note to self... tequila may not be the best medicine. Anyway....
Dad's still in the Geriatric Psych Ward. It's been three weeks. And he still isn't walking.
When I visited him the first week he was there, I finally felt optimistic that he could be diluted of some of those heavy medications and return to a more regular state. He already seemed so focused and his personality was still there. But, with every visit since then, he just seems to be declining... but not in an Alzheimer's way of declining, in a medicated way. Yesterday he was twitching, mumbling and grunting, barely able to focus on me, and extremely drowsy.
When I tell the staff that just three weeks ago Dad was walking and talking (or at least forming words if not sentences), dancing to music, and was able to hold a fork and feed himself... I feel like they don't believe me. Since they didn't know my Dad before he was admitted in the psych ward, how would they know what his normal state is? Of course they wouldn't believe that the man confined to a chair that I visited yesterday would be capable of all those actions.
On the other hand, I understand that we are trying to curb his aggression and I am so thankful that I am not the sole person in charge of his care. (The VA accepted him as their responsibility ever since he moved into the VA home.) But, let's say that my Dad lives another year, should he be condemned to this quality of life? I mean, he really has no quality of life right now, but I think it's because of the meds not the disease at the moment. Trust me, I know the reality of this disease. I know that Dad will eventually forget how to walk, how to swallow, and he will lose his reflexes making the probability of choking on food a very real one. He will eventually stop eating. Many people believe that you can't die of Alzheimer's, you just die with Alzheimer's. But my Dad is dying of Alzheimer's. And it's a pretty shitty way of leaving this earth. So, adding the medications to this already horrible disease frustrates me.
(The doctor did inform us that she is trying to wean him off of the Depakote over the next few days to see if he will be able to walk again.)
We were also told that if Dad cannot regain the power to walk again, he will not be accepted back into the home. They only want ambulatory patients. So, the VA would help find him a skilled nursing facility that accepts MediCal near Long Beach where I live. Most of these places (especially in Long Beach) are utterly depressing with four beds to a room and dark, dirty corridors. Can things get any better for us and Dad? Ugh.
The only positive thing to share right now is that we are going to start Dad on a Palliative Care plan. We found his Advanced Directive where he stated he didn't want any life saving measures, and a Palliative Care Plan will help us achieve his wishes. It focuses on providing relief from the symptoms, pain, and stress for patients with serious illnesses but will not prolong his life in any way. A good example would be if he was to contract Pneumonia, we would then treat the pain and symptoms, but not the infection. The Doctor thinks he is in some of the last stages of Alzheimer's. She is giving us a very loose timeline of about a year.
So, with all this information swirling around in my head, I'm sure you can understand why emotions are running high.
Also, in the past few weeks, we have been receiving so much support from readers and family and friends who relate to our story and are battling the same type of situations with their loved ones. We so appreciate you reaching out. It's very comforting to know we're not the only ones.
Dad's still in the Geriatric Psych Ward. It's been three weeks. And he still isn't walking.
When I visited him the first week he was there, I finally felt optimistic that he could be diluted of some of those heavy medications and return to a more regular state. He already seemed so focused and his personality was still there. But, with every visit since then, he just seems to be declining... but not in an Alzheimer's way of declining, in a medicated way. Yesterday he was twitching, mumbling and grunting, barely able to focus on me, and extremely drowsy.
When I tell the staff that just three weeks ago Dad was walking and talking (or at least forming words if not sentences), dancing to music, and was able to hold a fork and feed himself... I feel like they don't believe me. Since they didn't know my Dad before he was admitted in the psych ward, how would they know what his normal state is? Of course they wouldn't believe that the man confined to a chair that I visited yesterday would be capable of all those actions.
On the other hand, I understand that we are trying to curb his aggression and I am so thankful that I am not the sole person in charge of his care. (The VA accepted him as their responsibility ever since he moved into the VA home.) But, let's say that my Dad lives another year, should he be condemned to this quality of life? I mean, he really has no quality of life right now, but I think it's because of the meds not the disease at the moment. Trust me, I know the reality of this disease. I know that Dad will eventually forget how to walk, how to swallow, and he will lose his reflexes making the probability of choking on food a very real one. He will eventually stop eating. Many people believe that you can't die of Alzheimer's, you just die with Alzheimer's. But my Dad is dying of Alzheimer's. And it's a pretty shitty way of leaving this earth. So, adding the medications to this already horrible disease frustrates me.
(The doctor did inform us that she is trying to wean him off of the Depakote over the next few days to see if he will be able to walk again.)
We were also told that if Dad cannot regain the power to walk again, he will not be accepted back into the home. They only want ambulatory patients. So, the VA would help find him a skilled nursing facility that accepts MediCal near Long Beach where I live. Most of these places (especially in Long Beach) are utterly depressing with four beds to a room and dark, dirty corridors. Can things get any better for us and Dad? Ugh.
The only positive thing to share right now is that we are going to start Dad on a Palliative Care plan. We found his Advanced Directive where he stated he didn't want any life saving measures, and a Palliative Care Plan will help us achieve his wishes. It focuses on providing relief from the symptoms, pain, and stress for patients with serious illnesses but will not prolong his life in any way. A good example would be if he was to contract Pneumonia, we would then treat the pain and symptoms, but not the infection. The Doctor thinks he is in some of the last stages of Alzheimer's. She is giving us a very loose timeline of about a year.
So, with all this information swirling around in my head, I'm sure you can understand why emotions are running high.
Also, in the past few weeks, we have been receiving so much support from readers and family and friends who relate to our story and are battling the same type of situations with their loved ones. We so appreciate you reaching out. It's very comforting to know we're not the only ones.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Denial
I sit here with tear-stained cheeks cradling a glass of wine. (You're so dramatic Kristen, you say). I know, but I speak the truth.
There comes a time when you have to face denial. Especially with Alzheimer's and Dementia. Denial comes easily with this disease. "Dad's too young to be losing his memory". "Dad is fine to live alone." "Dad doesn't have to be in a lock-up facility... he can still clean his dentures." No, he can't. Face it.
There's also the financial denial. I have to give us a little credit on this one. We didn't think it would take this long to sell his mobile home. We also didn't know he would lose so much money on it or that his Morgan Stanley investments would have plummeted so much. Someone like my husband Blake who is getting his masters in business and finance would know this, but I do not. The minute I hear numbers my mind shuts down. Yeah, I took Honors Math all through High School, but I was tutored through the entire thing. It was torture.
We had been scrambling for a place to put Dad when my Mom found Whittier Place Senior Living. Dad had been living between me, Megan, and my Mom for about a week after running away from the first place we put him. Whittier is so nice and actually very affordable when you compare it to other facilities. What took us over our budget is all the extra 'stuff' that they charge you for. $100/month to have someone help them with their dentures or $120/month for the patient to get 5 showers a week... the list goes on. (Even with all the added expenses, the place is still pretty cheap). We knew that we were above his budget but at that point we were desperate to get him in a secure place. The plan was to let him live there for the next few years while he is still young and active and then when he gets worse, we can move him to a different place.
Well, Dad's money is running out soon and he's not selling the mobile home fast enough. I'm freaking out. When we're already spending so much time visiting and worrying about rashes or trying to stop him from running away, how can we think about one more thing? Well, I'm going to stop crying and try.
We're going to meet with a lawyer and hopefully get more information about Medical. And we have some legal and financial complications (that I won't go into) and I can't even begin to understand all of it. Luckily Megan and I have my Mom who looks up EVERYTHING on the internet in record speed and is extremely quick in learning about all these government programs. We also have Blake. He is the more fiscal conservative among us and a great forecaster when it comes to finance. I'm hoping between the two of them and Dad's lame Power of Attorney (Me), we can figure it all out.
What makes the possibility of moving Dad worse? I feel like in the past week or two, I've started to notice a small change in my Dad. I think he is starting to consider Whittier Place as his home.
There comes a time when you have to face denial. Especially with Alzheimer's and Dementia. Denial comes easily with this disease. "Dad's too young to be losing his memory". "Dad is fine to live alone." "Dad doesn't have to be in a lock-up facility... he can still clean his dentures." No, he can't. Face it.
There's also the financial denial. I have to give us a little credit on this one. We didn't think it would take this long to sell his mobile home. We also didn't know he would lose so much money on it or that his Morgan Stanley investments would have plummeted so much. Someone like my husband Blake who is getting his masters in business and finance would know this, but I do not. The minute I hear numbers my mind shuts down. Yeah, I took Honors Math all through High School, but I was tutored through the entire thing. It was torture.
We had been scrambling for a place to put Dad when my Mom found Whittier Place Senior Living. Dad had been living between me, Megan, and my Mom for about a week after running away from the first place we put him. Whittier is so nice and actually very affordable when you compare it to other facilities. What took us over our budget is all the extra 'stuff' that they charge you for. $100/month to have someone help them with their dentures or $120/month for the patient to get 5 showers a week... the list goes on. (Even with all the added expenses, the place is still pretty cheap). We knew that we were above his budget but at that point we were desperate to get him in a secure place. The plan was to let him live there for the next few years while he is still young and active and then when he gets worse, we can move him to a different place.
Well, Dad's money is running out soon and he's not selling the mobile home fast enough. I'm freaking out. When we're already spending so much time visiting and worrying about rashes or trying to stop him from running away, how can we think about one more thing? Well, I'm going to stop crying and try.
We're going to meet with a lawyer and hopefully get more information about Medical. And we have some legal and financial complications (that I won't go into) and I can't even begin to understand all of it. Luckily Megan and I have my Mom who looks up EVERYTHING on the internet in record speed and is extremely quick in learning about all these government programs. We also have Blake. He is the more fiscal conservative among us and a great forecaster when it comes to finance. I'm hoping between the two of them and Dad's lame Power of Attorney (Me), we can figure it all out.
What makes the possibility of moving Dad worse? I feel like in the past week or two, I've started to notice a small change in my Dad. I think he is starting to consider Whittier Place as his home.
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