Clearly exhausted by a long night of barking and sleeping on the sofas, Nan and Bonnie display the playful enthusiasm which characterizes our terriers.
Why aren’t you dead yet?
If you’re over 65 and/or on Medicare, or poor on Medicaid, that’s the message you’re getting.
Out-of-pocket costs of Medicare have been going up annually, with ever-higher deductibles and premiums and a massive doughnut hole in prescription coverage that like the energizer bunny just keeps going and going and going. Many of the most fundamental, critical medications aren’t covered at all — emergency and other inhalers for asthma sufferers, nitroglycerin, newer antibiotics. Out-of-pockets costs are terrifying.
It doesn’t matter that you literally can’t live without your medications. Survival is your problem. Your health care providers, including your doctors, don’t care.
Ever since I turned 65, it’s been a downhill slide into worse medical care. As long as I was on MassHealth (Massachusetts’ Medicaid), I was okay. Medication was affordable. If I was sick, I got care. Lucky I had cancer while I was covered by MassHealth. Otherwise, I’d be dead.
The day I turned 65, I was dumped from MassHealth. I vainly hoped I’d be protected by my disabled status. I had been on Social Security disability for years. Officially disabled, I was thus entitled to MassHealth.
No problem getting around that. Social Security reclassified me as just old, not disabled. They switched me to standard Social Security. I get the same money, but without the protection. They also changed the poverty line so I no longer qualify for the extra help I was getting for medications.
Apparently when you’re over 65, you need a lot less money to live on. Pity no one told my mortgage company or other creditors. Or the drug companies. When you hit 65, you are healed of all existing disabilities and can can live on a third of the money you needed before. Poverty — when you are 65 or older — is set to levels so low you couldn’t afford a refrigerator crate.
All of this occurred right after the second anniversary of the two tumors which cost me both breasts, at which point I discovered I needed major heart repair. Without MassHealth, I needed a new medical plan and had switched to a Medicare HMO. At the time, there was only one in Worcester County. Fallon was (and remains) awful with practically no oncologists and they didn’t include the only dedicated cancer facility in central Massachusetts.
So, for a year, under Fallon, I didn’t see an oncologist. I made appointments, but they were consistently cancelled because the guy had meetings. Not emergencies. Meetings. By the end of 2013, facing heart surgery and needing a real oncologist, I switched to one of Blue Cross’s Medicare PPO Advantage plans. Simultaneously, Partners Group, the umbrella organization for all the doctors I’d been using withdrew from the Medicare and MassHealth HMO programs. Partners Group chose to not serve the old and poor. Not profitable.
At the beginning of 2013, I had no doctors. My PCP, gastroenterologist, psychiatrist … my entire support network … dissolved. In theory, I could continue to go to them. It was, after all a PPO … but it turns out just because you can go to a doctor doesn’t mean your insurance will pay the bills.
I needed new doctors and I don’t have them.
I’ve had four different kinds of heart surgery and I don’t have a cardiologist. No one is monitoring my blood pressure or medications.
Essentially, I’ve got no medical services. I’m taking the medications I was taking before surgery because I don’t know what else to do. I’m doing my best to hook up with doctors, but I’m in limbo and have been since before the surgery.
I’m angry. I’m trying hard to stay calm, but inside, I’m terribly angry. I’m getting the message loud and clear.
I’ve outlived my usefulness. So how come I’m not dead yet?
When did we become this mean-spirited country with medical organizations which would rather close down than provide care to most vulnerable citizens? How did we come to this? Who are we?
I know. I get it. Just die already.
I’m too old for this. Teen age idol? Aw, c’mon.
I was madly in love with Johnny Mathis (who?) then traded him in for Marlon Brando who I thought was very cerebral and deep. I loved (still love) the Beatles. the Doors and the Stones, but they weren’t my idols … just great bands I enjoyed.
I had a bit of thing for Harry Belafonte, but he was hot.
it was more than 50 years ago. Seriously. That’s half a century.
If it was ever relevant, it has long passed over into mildly amusing trivia of the distant past.
Sometime during the last cold snap of the endless winter of 2013 – 2014, the windshield in our PT Cruiser cracked. Nothing specific happened. It just cracked. It was right before I was supposed to go into the hospital and it was not a crack that made using the car impossible, so it would have to wait until later … whenever that turned out to be.
This morning, later arrived. My son made all the arrangements. About an hour ago, he got a call from Tim, the glass guy.
“This car doesn’t have a cracked windshield,” Tim said.
“I’m sure it doesn’t,” Owen replied. “Because our car is here in the driveway. I’m leaning on it. What color is the car you took?”
“Maroon,” said Tim.
“You took my neighbor’s car,” Owen said.
There was some back and forth as Tim ascertained that Owen wasn’t just screwing around, that he really had taken the wrong car. A few minutes ago, he came and took our car, presumably having returned the neighbor’s car before he discovered it was missing and called the cops.
I can only imagine what would have happened had the neighbor’s car had a cracked windshield too. Hmm.
How small is small enough? Icicles this past winter hung from the gutters above my office window, naturally black and white, just needing a bit of brightening and increased contrast.
Are the icicles small enough to be small subjects? I guess it depends on your definition of small … and compared to what.
Music means something
Weekly thoughts and random musings by Rich Paschall
The pursuit of history using the newest and most creative methods necessary
An Honest Review from an Honest (and Gassy) Guy (who doesn't take things too seriously)
A great WordPress.com site
Photography by Lisa Patterson
BE SURE TO TASTE YOUR WORDS BEFORE YOU SPIT THEM OUT ❖❖❖
An unflinching view on refusing to be beaten by MS
Home of What Is It?!? - A Project in Perspective
Art, Architecture, Design and Photography - a curated glimpse into an infinite world of beauty and creativity
a small dog's musings on life in Kazakhstan
"I never have taken a picture I've intended. They're always better or worse." ~~ Diane Arbus
Write up my street
Stomping Out Unacceptable Usage
Telling it Like it Is
The temperature at which your brain melts