Art by Eleanor Shakespeare

Yesterday proved to be one of those rollercoaster rides again; everything was fine until the phone rang at 4:45 PM with a call from the coordinator of the aides. “Your mother was approved for two days of service.” My first reaction was that she was approved for two days of service a week, which clearly made no sense. This woman needed to get the schedule in order and I guess the payroll, but this weirdness kept her hanging. So, as usual, and I still can’t figure out why, I had to play middle-woman again. I called the person in charge of the managed care and she called someone and checked the records and sure enough someone had made a TYPO. My mother’s service plan had an obvious error, the new plan should end next October not on Saturday!

“Tell her this is an error and it will be corrected.”

I did.

“But I need something in writing.”

“Hi, it’s me again, she says she needs something in writing.”

“Tell her I can’t get the plan going until I have it in writing.”

“Tell her it will be corrected tomorrow.”

OK, so now that for some reason these two people need a go-between, (me) and can’t thrash it out themselves, I assured the person with the papers in error that the correction will be made.

Placation reigns.

Next, knowing that the aide was to leave at 8:00 PM I texted her and wished her a good night, I hoped the day was better than the last, I said I was glad things were working out.

But the reply knocked me down: “GN, Susie everything OK don’t worry, she is better today. S. ask me to do live in I have to talk to my family tonight S. said no aid (sic) want to work when they hear is a virus case.”

Now,  wait a minute! S. had told me, assured me that both current aides were going to work the live-in shifts. I was likely placated so that S., the coordinator could work on Candy.

This was a set-back as it was most likely that a new person would have to be found (but no one wanted to work) and I would lose my connection and my edge.

The rollercoaster began to descend. And pick up speed.

Today. A message from S., the aides’ coordinator. “I still didn’t get the paperwork, could you call her and tell her?”

I call S. I asked her four times: “Is Candy going to take the job? Are you sure?” She tells me she told me yesterday that she was going to. Part of me doesn’t believe S.

Back to the authorization.

I check my email, care coordinator says “everything is fixed. ” I respond: “she didn’t get the paperwork.”

I get a phone call: “Everything is in place, she just has to go to where she always goes to get the info, the portal.”

I forward the email to S. that says all is in place and that she should go to the portal.

I am ready to go through a portal.

I have quelled my excitement and taken everything in my stride. If it works out with the aide, all well and good. The paperwork is done, everything is in place.

Que sera, sera.

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

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