(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . Who Foots the Bill? [1] ['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.', 'Backgroundurl Avatar_Large', 'Nickname', 'Joined', 'Created_At', 'Story Count', 'N_Stories', 'Comment Count', 'N_Comments', 'Popular Tags'] Date: 2023-02-21 The left foot The picture above is that of my mom’s left foot, taken within the last hour. You might think reading this, “what does this have to do with politics in America?” Or “Why would you be posting a picture of your mom’s foot on dailykos?” Because it sent me over the edge, that’s why. I am going to tell you my story in the hopes of raising awareness. I am my mom’s full-time caregiver. December 29, 2022 marked 10 years that I have been taking care of her in her home, without familial support. Taking care of my sweet mommy is the best thing I have ever done in my life. Prior to this, my mom was a fully independent, actively seeking gainful employment as a legal secretary, loving, caring, funny, person who was my partner in crime, my best friend, my gal pal, my confidante, my regular dinner companion, fellow adventurer in trying new things, like painting while drinking, or painting ceramics, or going to see new ballets. She was 70 years old when she got let go from her job of 24-years as a legal assistant. She had the first stroke on March 28, 2013. She had suffered some cognitive damage, she didn’t know it was 2013, she thought it was 2007; she didn’t know who the president was, Barrack Obama, even though she had voted for him twice. But she was still Mom, she could walk, talk, go to the bathroom alone, get dressed on her own, brush her teeth, everything aside from the minor (at least in my opinion) cognitive deficits, she was fine. She had lost some of her peripheral vision in her right eye, so driving a car would be out, as well as working would be out, but she was okay. So they sent her home after two days in the hospital. Now that she’d had the first stroke, I had new awareness of the symptoms. The following Monday, she wasn’t quite right. I called her doctor, he instructed me to take her to the hospital. I took her to Holy Cross because that was where her doctor had privileges. They did the usual, CAT scans, running tests, they kept her for observation. Tuesday passed, they were running more tests as they do, still keeping her for observation, then it’s Wednesday. I was sitting at her bedside when she told me she wanted to sleep. I sat there flipping through a magazine. I noticed that she started fidgeting restlessly; I called out to her, “Mom?” Mom!” she looked at me, her lips were tightly pursed together, her arm was suddenly curled up under her chest, her fingers clinched in an odd fist, I called out to her again, but she seemed unable to respond, I told her I was going for help. When I went out into the hallway and yelled for help that something was going on with my mother, people started to move rapidly into action; before I knew it, it was like a swarm of bees all around, not just in how many people, but as my head was swimming it was as if they were buzzing around me. They whisked her off to do stuff. Another CT scan, X-ray, blood, I don’t know what. I don’t even know how much time had passed, but they brought her back, showed me an image of her brain, and the portion her brain they said was “in play”. I don’t really recall all the details after that. I just remember she was going in for surgery. I’m sure I had to sign something. A specialist was called; the words cerebral angioplasty were introduced into my vocabulary; and now all there was for me to do, was wait. The specialist was called not a surgeon, mind, but rather a Neurointerventional Radiologist, Dr. Laszlo Miskolczi. He came out to tell me that he wasn’t pleased with the result of the cerebral angioplasty; he explained that the delicacy of the brain tissue prevented him from inflating the balloon-like device any further, he wanted to insert a metal stent into my mother’s brain, I needed to agree and sign more forms. He explained that this procedure was typically a planned procedure with the patient taking pre-op medications for two weeks prior to the surgery. Mom didn’t have two weeks. He was confident that this would work. I signed whatever they needed me to sign; then it was back to waiting. Several hours later, Dr. Miskolczi came out and showed me a before and after of the arteries in my mom’s brain; he explained that one stent didn’t work so he inserted a second stent; he explained that again, due to the delicacy of the brain tissue, these were special stents that were self-expanding; he said he was pleased with the responses from her right sided extremities; he said we could go home. I don’t remember what time the call came; the stents occluded; my mom was in Intensive Care, it happened while she was in the Recovery Room; no one noticed; had I had been there, I might have noticed, like I noticed earlier in the day whilst sitting at her bedside. It’s taken me a long time to forgive myself for that. I know it wasn’t my fault, but when has that ever mattered. Fast forward to present day, I have been taking care of my mom at home since December 29, 2014. My life was irrevocably turned upside down when my mom had that stroke; I was on a vertical learning curve. I regularly have to battle both Medicare and Medicaid for the different aspects of my mother’s care that they cover, (or don’t) as part of her health insurance; I do have in-home aide hours, but it’s not enough; I do participate in a support group for caregivers on a weekly phone call, but it’s not enough; I’ve been unemployed since July 2016 when Amex let me go and in spite of my continued efforts to find gainful employment, everyone wants me onsite. I refuse to put my mother in a nursing home just so I can have a job. Ironically, by the time the pandemic hit in 2020, it had been so long since I had been employed that companies haven’t wanted to hire someone with such a gap in their employment history. As a result of my unemployed status, I have no access to healthcare for myself. I do not qualify for Medicaid in my state, (thanks to Alien Rick Scott and current jerk Ron DeSenseLess for rejecting - both times free federal funding to expand Medicaid in our state) and if something happens to me, who is going to take care of my mom? The thing is, I am part of a growing population. The Baby Boomers are aging out, they will need their loved ones to step up to the plate to take care of them. We are all living longer; eventually, as Former First Lady Rosalynn Carter said, “There are only four kinds of people in the world – those who have been caregivers, those who are caregivers, those who will be caregivers and those who will need caregivers.” Other countries revere and care for their elderly; here in the United States, we warehouse and institutionalize our elderly. And I don’t care if someone out there swears up and down that their mother’s brother’s sister’s cousin’s uncle is a nurse in a nursing home and it is wonderful; nursing homes are soul-sucking, depressing places where they put their residents in wheelchairs, line them up in the hallway, like some seniors on parade in various stages of decay, where the only thing they have to look at is the comings and goings of nurses at the nurses station. Caregivers and the loved ones they care for are marginalized in this country. We are a growing population in the most powerful country in the world, in the top twenty wealthiest nations in the world and yet, we have no infrastructure to aid and support family members who take care of their loved ones at home. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; the function of government in society is to establish and maintain and solid infrastructure so that society can flourish. I’m a part of that society; my mom is a part of that society, and there are millions more like us in this country from every walk of life. Regardless of what side of the aisle you sit, you have to live until you die and in the meantime, you have to age in the process. It just all became a little too much for me today when I saw my mom’s foot all swollen because the wound-care nurse had inadvertently bandaged my mom’s leg too tight. I had a mini breakdown. I wrote this. If we had a solid infrastructure that included the elderly and their caregivers, it might not be so hard. My mother worked all her life and paid her taxes; she had a 401k, she paid into the system that she was counting on to be there for her when her time came. It is not what my mother is entitled to as Republicans like to say, it is what is owed her and millions like her. So when you hear about Medicare, Medicaid, and Social Security being on the chopping block, it should light a fire in your belly and compel you to reach out to your elected officials and tell them “No cuts to Medicare, Medicaid or Social Security!” Because one day, you too will be old and possibly infirm and you too will be in need of those benefits. It may not be as sexy as other hot button issues, it may not seem as pressing, but it is by no means any less important. [END] --- [1] Url: https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2023/2/21/2154267/-Who-Foots-the-Bill Published and (C) by Daily Kos Content appears here under this condition or license: Site content may be used for any purpose without permission unless otherwise specified. via Magical.Fish Gopher News Feeds: gopher://magical.fish/1/feeds/news/dailykos/