Free as a bird in the Catskill Mountains, ca 1984 Today I spent several hours on the phone. I spoke to the case manager at the rehab and spilled the beans about some of my observations. (Refer to previous post). My decision: my mother should come home, rehabilitation is not an option with a person who gets dizzy upon standing and who is so malnourished she can barely function. I left a message for the admissions office to please check the status of my mother’s request to dis-enroll from Humana and get on straight Medicare. I finally was able to … Continue reading →

ORegon-3-9833 ca. 1949 Last night I had a sick feeling in my gut. You might call it panic, anxiety. I had called the rehab center and was told by Cynthia, the aide, that my mother was disinterested in trying soup she would gladly make for her. I tried to speak to my mother but it felt like we were blocked by some unseen wall. It is a transparent black shadow that has been hovering over her. There’s a pulling of the cord: I feel the tension and I am cowering with the knowledge it will likely soon be cut. I … Continue reading →

Mom and Dad 1944 When we are young and just beginning to fly through life, we rarely think about health care, retirement, savings. My parents are children of the Great Depression; they never lived beyond their means and managed to save a dollar here and there. When my mother was working, she had Blue Cross/Blue Shield, and it continued when she retired in Florida. And then there was Medicare. For some reason instead of choosing straight Medicare, she chose an HMO, Humana. Maybe it was cheaper, maybe the coverage was decent at the time, but she was confined to Humana … Continue reading →

  In Stuyvesant Town, first apartment, 653 East 14th Street, apartment 5G This tome might one day, possibly one day soon, be a eulogy for a now ninety-four year old woman who will be ninety-five in a couple of weeks. I last saw my mother in August. She wanted to go shopping so we threw her walker in the trunk and set-off to the mall where she wheeled and reeled ahead of me at umpteen miles an hour, all 4′ 9″ of her diminished self; she was a powerhouse. Then in September, she wasn’t. My mother always said, “Life can … Continue reading →