Once again, I am immersed in paperwork, this time having to do with my mother's care. I have spoken to no fewer than half dozen people asking for clarifications and advice and still, let me assure you, the long term care of a person in this country is one heck of a quagmire, especially when said person has moved to a stage where government benefits are under consideration. I had to laugh when Ed, who was assisting on the sidelines with occasional Google searches, brought up the following from one Elder Law site offering advice on how to navigate Medicaid Long Term Care's field of endless pit holes:
One court described the federal and state laws governing the Medicaid program as the regulatory equivalent of the "Serbonian bog," quoting John Milton's epic poem Paradise Lost. ("A gulf profound, as that Serbonian bog Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old, Where armies whole have been sunk.") These laws have been characterized by other courts as "almost unintelligible to the uninitiated," as an "aggravated assault on the English language, resistant to attempts to understand it," and as "labyrinthinan."
Yeah, I would agree and I write as an attorney who, a long time ago, worked in a legal office where my task was to translate Medicaid/Medicare regs to the uninitiated.
In other news -- well, it's cold outside. 50F (10C) out there when I woke up and not much warmer inside the farmhouse. Hey, weren't we giving the furnace a trial run? Why isn't it kicking in? I look at the thermostat. Everything is shut down. Ed is sleeping. I'm not going to disturb him. This can wait.
But by late morning, I'm longing for a warm cup of coffee and my bowl of hot oatmeal, so I make enough noise downstairs to stir him upstairs. Ah, he's awake!
Ed, the furnace, or at least the thermostat is not working...
Huh? Oh, um, I guess I forgot to turn it back on after tweaking it last night.
Problem solved.
Breakfast, in the still cold (but not for long!) kitchen.
And then? Well, you know -- the cold, the wetness outside, the forms, the phone calls, the paper work.
On the upside, we have another inquiry about the calico kitties. We have high hopes for these potential future owners! Scheduled transfer: Friday. Wish us all luck!
One court described the federal and state laws governing the Medicaid program as the regulatory equivalent of the "Serbonian bog," quoting John Milton's epic poem Paradise Lost. ("A gulf profound, as that Serbonian bog Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old, Where armies whole have been sunk.") These laws have been characterized by other courts as "almost unintelligible to the uninitiated," as an "aggravated assault on the English language, resistant to attempts to understand it," and as "labyrinthinan."
Yeah, I would agree and I write as an attorney who, a long time ago, worked in a legal office where my task was to translate Medicaid/Medicare regs to the uninitiated.
In other news -- well, it's cold outside. 50F (10C) out there when I woke up and not much warmer inside the farmhouse. Hey, weren't we giving the furnace a trial run? Why isn't it kicking in? I look at the thermostat. Everything is shut down. Ed is sleeping. I'm not going to disturb him. This can wait.
But by late morning, I'm longing for a warm cup of coffee and my bowl of hot oatmeal, so I make enough noise downstairs to stir him upstairs. Ah, he's awake!
Ed, the furnace, or at least the thermostat is not working...
Huh? Oh, um, I guess I forgot to turn it back on after tweaking it last night.
Problem solved.
Breakfast, in the still cold (but not for long!) kitchen.
And then? Well, you know -- the cold, the wetness outside, the forms, the phone calls, the paper work.
On the upside, we have another inquiry about the calico kitties. We have high hopes for these potential future owners! Scheduled transfer: Friday. Wish us all luck!
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