Here we are on the “back-to-normal” paper-chase …

I called eligibility and sent an email.

I called the service provider: nothing came down the pike to show the coverage had ended.

I called HRA in Brooklyn. Couldn’t get through … busy for hours.

Finally got through. The phone system said the case number was incorrect.

Ten minutes later I was connected to a live agent. The case number went through. Go figure. He started to give me lip: if it didn’t go through, why are you giving it to me. (To show you the system sucks)

And what was the upshot? What was the reason why my mother received a form stating that her benefits (which supply her home health aides) were suspended? Two forms were not accounted for. One “questionnaire” HAD been sent in, in March with a huge packet of information which should have been in the database for years. They couldn’t find the submitted form.

And, the form that I had called the doctor’s office about, saying I was faxing it in, providing the address for them to mail it back, had never been sent in.

I just copied what I had, one of about twenty pages and resubmitted.

I called the medical office and spoke to a new nurse. Finally someone responsive. Faxed the form and cover letter again. Again. And, sent a hard copy in with my son as the fax didn’t work on their end-hasn’t since I’ve been involved with this office and I always use a different number but the new nurse was sure that it was working. Oh well.

I am putting this to rest for the night. It is enough. There went another day, but that is life. Tht’s what happens.

Time for a break. And thank you to my supportive friends who always eave me a little love and a lotta good righteous indignation.

PS: I scurried yesterday to re-establish the paperwork. This morning I received an email from insurance eligibility indicating that the re-cert “went through and is good through January.” This overlaps to a degree with HRA which said, “well, yes it went through but two forms are missing; the case is active.”

My son came home last evening with what felt like a truckload of mother’s mail, including another letter from the HRA, and another. Contradictions.

This is my take:

There are low-paid paper-pushers going over submitted paperwork. They send out very official form letters that are meant to confuse and rattle the receiver; when one of these arrives in the mail, fear strikes. Boxes are haphazardly checked off. This is missing, that is missing. But: It is likely that NOTHING is missing. They use a return stamp on the forms to be filled out with a broken rubber stamper that died twenty-five years ago. They photo copy forms at wonky, sloppy angles. The whole effect is that whatever was shoved into the envelope to be filled out is likely on file but what the hell? Take a week out of your life and re-do it anyway. No wonder that everyone, everyone I spoke to yesterday was rolling their eyes on the other end of the phone at this whole process. They know it well. They have become inured. They silently laugh it off and go on with their day, chasing after papers and info that weary and scared caretakers like myself are dealing with. You have been denied certification. Re-certification. Peace of mind. The right to remain silent. The right to a fair hearing. Here’s how to get a fair hearing. Or an Unfair hearing. Just leave us alone, go away. Don’t call this department, call that department.

I have almost filled another plastic file box with folders of copies, notes, phone numbers, bank statements, paid bills. That makes five cartons. I go from one to the other, fishing into folders and ultimately, despite labels and tags, misplace, my sticky notes go flying. I pray the phone stays silent: that it doesn’t ring and that I don’t have to use it for hours.

Strangely, when this blip in my peace of mind began again a few days ago, my guts didn’t quake. Something kept me grounded, something said, “we’ve been through this before; it’s only paper. It will be fine.”

It’s only paper.

It’s only ink.

This series starts here:
Part 1: And The Band Played On … a mother’s life, a daughter’s journey

The previous post is here

The next post is here