It's hard to tell what another living thing really needs. What level of care is required. Take the cats: the matriarch (Stop Sign) has returned, albeit only with one kitten. So far.
I thought that these porch kitties had been scared off by the shed cats, who always come now to the porch and stare at me through the glass door, letting me know that a meal would be greatly appreciated. I try shooing them away, just to keep Stop Sign and her kitties here and unafraid, but Ed reminds me that we really do not understand cat dynamics. Who needs what and is afraid of whom -- this is all a mystery. When Stop Sign disappeared for a couple of days, Dance (a shed cat, the other mother in the lot, though with no live kitties here to account for her labors) hung out all day on the porch. It wasn't all about food. She seemed to want us there, petting her. Now that Stop Sign is back, Dance (her daughter) has retreated. I just don't get any of it. Food and a warm space -- that's easy. But as for their other desires and inclinations -- we can only make wild guesses about where they need help, and when are they best left alone.
You'll say -- if only they could talk! We'd know then!
That's not necessarily the case. Take my 96-year old mother: she can talk. She can articulate her wishes. But can I tell you what her needs are going forward? I cannot.
Perhaps it's good that I am not the one making that assessment. Just as people are trained to understand cats (to a point), so too others are trained to understand the needs of an aging individual. Still, these professionals look for guidance from any number of places and I do know that I can, to an extent, steer things in one direction or another. In other words, it's not irrelevant what I think. That's a bit frightening.
Ed spent the entire long day today reading up on what the options are for my mom once she is out of Rehab. And he's hardly made a dent. It's unbelievable how complicated the system of care and importantly, payment for that care is. My mom qualifies for assistance, but that assistance is like a deep dark jungle of vines, roots, sink holes and scary reptiles. You can get yourself into a pickle!
My sweet guy does not take the easy route. He reads everything. And he pushes options that I think are farfetched and it drives me nuts.
Ed, she can't possibly do that!
Are you sure?
Well no, but my best guess is...
The assessment team may see it otherwise. Or they may make mistakes. You need to be prepared.
(A working breakfast...)
Most people don't have an Ed in their midst. Most are inclined to just follow the plan put forth by the person who does the assessment. And why not, it's all so damn complicated! When I first practiced law (before my work at the Law School), my firm represented health care providers and I helped decipher Medicare and Medicaid regulations for them. There are thousands and thousands of pages of regulations and that's before you even get to the gray areas of dispute.
We have huge numbers of people heading toward those years when they'll need long term care. At the same time, assisted living centers and nursing homes are closing doors because (what a shock) they can't find people to work their tough jobs at low wages, at the same time that government reimbursement rates are ridiculously low.
We are doomed.
Still, on the upside, I live in a state where there are a lot of service organizations that provide helpful assistance and, too, there is good old Ed, driving me crazy with his questions and his reading and his analysis of every possible exigency. Truly, things are progressing. In one way or another, we will figure out how to deal with the cats and we will certainly work on trying to understand what's good for my mom.
And me? Where was I all day? Life does not stand still. I caught up with stuff. Not all stuff. Not by a long shot. But, the groceries for the week ahead are stacked on shelves and in the fridge, the errands are run, the house is fairly neat. Give me credit for that at least!
In the evening we do what I need us to do: we sit on the couch and munch on popcorn. I sip a glass of white wine, and we watch an episode of the British show Grand Designs. Escapism in the extreme! Until Ed picks up his computer and reads me more material on what I need to consider in my quest for good outcomes.
And the candle burns and the furnace hums and the lights twinkle.
I thought that these porch kitties had been scared off by the shed cats, who always come now to the porch and stare at me through the glass door, letting me know that a meal would be greatly appreciated. I try shooing them away, just to keep Stop Sign and her kitties here and unafraid, but Ed reminds me that we really do not understand cat dynamics. Who needs what and is afraid of whom -- this is all a mystery. When Stop Sign disappeared for a couple of days, Dance (a shed cat, the other mother in the lot, though with no live kitties here to account for her labors) hung out all day on the porch. It wasn't all about food. She seemed to want us there, petting her. Now that Stop Sign is back, Dance (her daughter) has retreated. I just don't get any of it. Food and a warm space -- that's easy. But as for their other desires and inclinations -- we can only make wild guesses about where they need help, and when are they best left alone.
You'll say -- if only they could talk! We'd know then!
That's not necessarily the case. Take my 96-year old mother: she can talk. She can articulate her wishes. But can I tell you what her needs are going forward? I cannot.
Perhaps it's good that I am not the one making that assessment. Just as people are trained to understand cats (to a point), so too others are trained to understand the needs of an aging individual. Still, these professionals look for guidance from any number of places and I do know that I can, to an extent, steer things in one direction or another. In other words, it's not irrelevant what I think. That's a bit frightening.
Ed spent the entire long day today reading up on what the options are for my mom once she is out of Rehab. And he's hardly made a dent. It's unbelievable how complicated the system of care and importantly, payment for that care is. My mom qualifies for assistance, but that assistance is like a deep dark jungle of vines, roots, sink holes and scary reptiles. You can get yourself into a pickle!
My sweet guy does not take the easy route. He reads everything. And he pushes options that I think are farfetched and it drives me nuts.
Ed, she can't possibly do that!
Are you sure?
Well no, but my best guess is...
The assessment team may see it otherwise. Or they may make mistakes. You need to be prepared.
(A working breakfast...)
Most people don't have an Ed in their midst. Most are inclined to just follow the plan put forth by the person who does the assessment. And why not, it's all so damn complicated! When I first practiced law (before my work at the Law School), my firm represented health care providers and I helped decipher Medicare and Medicaid regulations for them. There are thousands and thousands of pages of regulations and that's before you even get to the gray areas of dispute.
We have huge numbers of people heading toward those years when they'll need long term care. At the same time, assisted living centers and nursing homes are closing doors because (what a shock) they can't find people to work their tough jobs at low wages, at the same time that government reimbursement rates are ridiculously low.
We are doomed.
Still, on the upside, I live in a state where there are a lot of service organizations that provide helpful assistance and, too, there is good old Ed, driving me crazy with his questions and his reading and his analysis of every possible exigency. Truly, things are progressing. In one way or another, we will figure out how to deal with the cats and we will certainly work on trying to understand what's good for my mom.
And me? Where was I all day? Life does not stand still. I caught up with stuff. Not all stuff. Not by a long shot. But, the groceries for the week ahead are stacked on shelves and in the fridge, the errands are run, the house is fairly neat. Give me credit for that at least!
In the evening we do what I need us to do: we sit on the couch and munch on popcorn. I sip a glass of white wine, and we watch an episode of the British show Grand Designs. Escapism in the extreme! Until Ed picks up his computer and reads me more material on what I need to consider in my quest for good outcomes.
And the candle burns and the furnace hums and the lights twinkle.
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