I Have a Relative With Dementia
So, Friday was... eventful.
We'd taken Mom into the hospital — Wednesday? Thursday? It's all become a blur — because she had made a break for the door of her facility three times, something called "exit-seeking behavior." Basically, this meant that Mom could no longer stay at the assisted living facility where she was. The hospital admitted her for observation, and she began to withdraw. She had been evaluated to see if she qualified for hospice care, in which case she could return to the facility she was used to, but no — she was not remotely in the condition required to qualify for hospice. She might be 91 and have a plethora of medical issues, but death isn't imminent.
We found a facility with a locked dementia unit that agreed to come and evaluate Mom Friday morning. Getting her up and out of bed was a nightmare — she was having none of it. And once the evaluator showed up, Mom could bare walk to the end of the hall and back, and only then with assistance. The problem was that this facility, although it had a locked dementia ward, was technically only an assisted living facility, not skilled nursing.
I spoke with a social worker in the hospital, and she dug up a number of options to investigate. I wasn't confident we'd be able to manage.
We looked at a facility. It was very nice, but, again, it was assisted living with a dementia unit, and also far, far outside of our budget.
So, the hunt began for a skilled nursing facility.
The problem, as I'm sure you know, is money. It's always money. Mom's income was enough for a decent assisted living facility, albeit one in a smaller town a half-hour away from us, but no where near enough to cover a skilled nursing facility anywhere.
We had no choice. We had to get Mom qualified for Medicaid, a nightmare I'd been avoiding for a long time.
On a lark, not expecting anything, we went by one of the places on the list. The young man at the front desk took us on a tour of the facility, and it was great. Clean, brightly lit, a significant number of staff members, nurses and CMAs. They even had a very nice physical therapy facility and staff. So, we waited around until the business manager could speak with us. She was a lovely young woman who gave up her lunch hour in order to work with us. She told us that she thought she could get Mom qualified for Medicaid, and we pulled out the folder of information I'd been lugging around. She was amazed and delighted that I had Mom's documents as organized as I did — apparently, this was not something most families thought of doing — and we quickly got the form filled out. Both she and another employee looked it over and told us that they didn't expect there to be any problem getting Mom qualified. (We haven't heard back yet — that will take awhile. Fingers crossed.)
One small snag. Because of the way Mom had been admitted to the hospital, Medicare wouldn't cover her admittance to the skilled nursing facility. So, we had to pony up a month's fee — nearly $5,000! — with the expectation that we would be reimbursed once she was qualified for Medicaid.
So, it all depends on getting Medicaid. Here's hoping there is no problem with that. If there is, we are royally bent over a barrel and rogered.
Mom clearly isn't terribly happy, but I'm not entirely certain she understands what's going on. I hope that, once she settles in and starts getting some therapy and maybe rebuilds some strength, she'll come to appreciate the place.
I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to release my pent-up anxiety, though, until we hear from the Medicaid people.
We'd taken Mom into the hospital — Wednesday? Thursday? It's all become a blur — because she had made a break for the door of her facility three times, something called "exit-seeking behavior." Basically, this meant that Mom could no longer stay at the assisted living facility where she was. The hospital admitted her for observation, and she began to withdraw. She had been evaluated to see if she qualified for hospice care, in which case she could return to the facility she was used to, but no — she was not remotely in the condition required to qualify for hospice. She might be 91 and have a plethora of medical issues, but death isn't imminent.
We found a facility with a locked dementia unit that agreed to come and evaluate Mom Friday morning. Getting her up and out of bed was a nightmare — she was having none of it. And once the evaluator showed up, Mom could bare walk to the end of the hall and back, and only then with assistance. The problem was that this facility, although it had a locked dementia ward, was technically only an assisted living facility, not skilled nursing.
I spoke with a social worker in the hospital, and she dug up a number of options to investigate. I wasn't confident we'd be able to manage.
We looked at a facility. It was very nice, but, again, it was assisted living with a dementia unit, and also far, far outside of our budget.
So, the hunt began for a skilled nursing facility.
The problem, as I'm sure you know, is money. It's always money. Mom's income was enough for a decent assisted living facility, albeit one in a smaller town a half-hour away from us, but no where near enough to cover a skilled nursing facility anywhere.
We had no choice. We had to get Mom qualified for Medicaid, a nightmare I'd been avoiding for a long time.
On a lark, not expecting anything, we went by one of the places on the list. The young man at the front desk took us on a tour of the facility, and it was great. Clean, brightly lit, a significant number of staff members, nurses and CMAs. They even had a very nice physical therapy facility and staff. So, we waited around until the business manager could speak with us. She was a lovely young woman who gave up her lunch hour in order to work with us. She told us that she thought she could get Mom qualified for Medicaid, and we pulled out the folder of information I'd been lugging around. She was amazed and delighted that I had Mom's documents as organized as I did — apparently, this was not something most families thought of doing — and we quickly got the form filled out. Both she and another employee looked it over and told us that they didn't expect there to be any problem getting Mom qualified. (We haven't heard back yet — that will take awhile. Fingers crossed.)
One small snag. Because of the way Mom had been admitted to the hospital, Medicare wouldn't cover her admittance to the skilled nursing facility. So, we had to pony up a month's fee — nearly $5,000! — with the expectation that we would be reimbursed once she was qualified for Medicaid.
So, it all depends on getting Medicaid. Here's hoping there is no problem with that. If there is, we are royally bent over a barrel and rogered.
Mom clearly isn't terribly happy, but I'm not entirely certain she understands what's going on. I hope that, once she settles in and starts getting some therapy and maybe rebuilds some strength, she'll come to appreciate the place.
I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to release my pent-up anxiety, though, until we hear from the Medicaid people.
61-69, M
