Sometimes we get so stuck within our “frames” of reference that we don’t see beyond it. Yesterday I had an experience that helped me push my parameters and I began to think outside the box; not that I hadn’t jumped out of that box before, but I have been thinking that maybe it will be possible … to bring my mother back to New York.

My parents left New York in the early 1980’s for health and financial reasons. My mother had been suffering her whole life from various allergies caused by all kinds of things. She was told to get out of the cold and to go to a warmer environment. How much that helped I am not sure as she still had bouts of pneumonia and respiratory issues. There was also the issue of money. New York is a very expensive place to live and my floks didn’t feel they could be retired here and survive monetarily. Off they went with millions of other refugees, leaving families and the old mahogany furniture for the land of The Golden Girls, pastel wallpaper and screened in patios. Some of us left behind made the trek down to Florida like a religious pilgrimage. Others had an occasional sojourn and camped out in the second bedroom making use of the pool, and the gym. I didn’t go down to Florida often and my mother was OK with that. My mother didn’t come back to new York except for maybe one time when her then “boyfriend” (after my father passed away) put her on a plane and was there to pick her up. He didn’t last long due to a heart condition. My mother loved him: it was a platonic relationship but he was a lovely guy, she said, who was there for her. He had his own problems. And while my mother was here in the early 90’s she and my husband butted heads frequently. Til this day I don’t know what that was all about but it made me very uncomfortable. My mother has a feisty side and I don’t recall what the issue was but it was. The dissension passed quickly but I was  uncomfortable in fear of the next event. I was always the diplomat trying to make everyone happy. It was a huge job.

Yesterday I attended a seminar with elder lawyers. I had been to one last month but this was through my union, the UFT, and it was more geared to retired teachers. Though it was geared toward me it made me realize through many tangential conversations that the lawyers had with the attendees, that Florida is far less generous in terms of services compared to New York. Especially with Medicaid. I was told by the elder lawyer in Florida that Medicaid for home care was frozen. It doesn’t seem that way here.

Now I have a new quest:

• to confer with council here and find out about bringing my mother back north, hence-
• to redo all her paperwork so it is recognized here and appropriate
• to find a suitable residence or nursing home that she could tolerate (she hates the idea of going into one but I’d sooner have her here where I can know what is going on, than down in Florida where conditions are oft intolerable)
• to figure out how to transport her: car? ambulance? train? plane?

This will be a huge pain in the butt BUT it would be worse if she stays in Florida where her money is going to run out and the services are limited.

I have my work cut out for me: research and decision making, which is what I have been doing for the last seven months. This time the picture has a new frame.

Addendum: As my mother would say, “life can turn on a dime!”

I called my union to get in touch with the elder attorneys. I had names and numbers but thought that I might have made an error. The secretary asked if I would like to talk to the director of social services. At first I couldn’t see why but something in me made me say yes. I left my number and a few hours later I realized that an angel may have guided me. I explained the story about my mother and she asked what I wanted. My response was, “for her to come back to New York and be placed in a comfortable setting where she would get the attention she needs. “Well, that’s what we’ll do, she said. I am a geriatric social worker.”

I spent many hours prior on the internet searching for facilities in my area and checking to see if they would accept Medicaid. I called two medical transport companies and got quotes for large equipped vans that come with two drivers, a nurse or paramedic, beds, a bathroom. Door to door service. One quote was for almost $10,000, the other for almost $7,000. I think my mother would be very stressed by the whole air travel paradigm: lateness, searches, air sickness, the over air conditioned planes. Maybe I’m wrong. Damn, everything is crazy expensive.

I was given a phone number for a senior placement person who was said to find me a facility; would pick me up and drive me around. The whole thing sounded too good to be true. I just spoke to her but now feel a little crestfallen: after she heard about the tiny amount of my mother’s monthly income I could feel her shaking her head no from the other side of the cord. “Assisted living here is much more expensive than in Florida.” This is something I was well aware of and that was always in the back of my mind when I thought about bringing my mother here. It is more than twice as much. I brought up nursing homes that accept Medicaid. “They are not nice, and there are very few that would be acceptable.” This made me very sad and apprehensive. I think my mother now needs more than assisted living and that would be a nursing home. The placement person needs for me to start discussing this with my mother, she would like to talk to my mother and get a feel for who she is and what condition she is in. I do hope she can help and that a positive outcome can be achieved. There has to be a way.

So I have gone from confused to a bit clearer to elated to apprehensive. The promises sounded too good to be true. I have yet to face the reality. What is really scary is that in some ways my mother has more help and attention in her home with an aide than she would have in a nursing home where she would have to share a room and a bathroom and would have even less attention. It would be the end of 1:1 care, having someone there all the time at her beck and call. Would this be a repeat of the rehabs she went to where she had to wait for more than a half hour for help to get to the bathroom?

Maybe I need to reframe again.

This series is linked: see “continued here.” Also, below the line there will be links for the previous post and the next.

The series starts here

continued here