maze

The Maze of Medicare

Sometimes it amazes me (no pun intended) how I stumble on this information.  I shouldn’t have to stumble. This information should be readily available and it’s not. I hope that, through this blog, you will pause and ask questions when you encounter a situation so you can learn about your loved one’s Medicare benefits in a more expedient manner than I have.

My dad was on Medicare Part A last fall after he came back from rehab after his hip surgery. He was getting physical therapy and nursing services for wound care. When he went into the hospital this last time, I learned about a specialized Physical Therapy practice that had particular expertise in Parkinson’s so I made a note to myself that when he came home, I would sign him up for their services.  What I learned was that because they came into the facility, they fell under “Home Healthcare Services” according to Medicare, which falls under Part B.

You cannot access Part B services at the same time as Part A services.

So I had him discharged from Part A because I really wanted to try out Dynamic Home Therapy, the specialized therapy provider.  I was not disappointed.  They provided superb therapy, both physical and occupational therapy services and went even further to suggest that he look into a different wheelchair. I was exceedingly pleased I had made that decision. Once he was discharged from Dynamic Home Therapy, I figured I would eventually move him back onto Part A for skilled nursing services as he always seems to have a skin tear that requires nursing services.

Last week, I finally got the paperwork together and today, the nurse stopped by to tell me that she would be starting next week and would be providing him with wound care.

And this is the KEY THING SHE SAID: She casually mentioned that when she opens a new “incident report” it comes automatically with 20 sessions of Physical Therapy!

There is no dollar limit like there is with Part B but there is a 20 session limit PER INCIDENT. She can re-certify him every time there is a new incident and, in my dad’s case, simply having Parkinson’s would qualify him to stay on because there is no longer a need to show improvement. And, he pretty much always has some sort of skin tear so nursing would always be able to re-certify him for that. This means he will have ongoing physical therapy. There is an in-house therapy team right where he lives which is convenient. It’s not the specialized therapy that Dynamic Home Therapy provided me, but I look at it as a way for him to continue to get structured one-on-one exercise 3 times a week, compliments of Medicare Part A.

Your welcome for the information.

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It Really Does Take A Village

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This is a marathon, not a sprint.

The average length of time that a caregiver takes care of a loved one is 7-8 years. Most caregivers go into this experience thinking it will be for 2 years.

This is more like a marathon, not a sprint. I began taking care of my dad remotely about 3 years before I finally moved him out East. Most caregivers, including me, set off down the path of caregiving without much thought.  Of course, I will take care of my dad. He was a wonderful father and gave so much to me and to his community.  He deserves nothing but the best. Without thinking about the long-term consequences of that decision, I moved him out East to be closer to me…and assumably to be closer to his two sons and his niece and nephew who are up in the Boston area.  Surely being closer to all of us would be a good thing. He would get to see them more often because they aren’t as far away.

I knew that I would be doing the lion’s share of overseeing his care because I am the only one local, but I also assumed that my siblings would pitch in and help with this monumental job of taking care of our father. One of my brothers set up a secret facebook group which allows me to privately post status updates on how dad is doing, to post videos of him, keeping all of them in the loop on how dad is doing. I regularly update it and it is a better way of communicating with so many interested parties than to be bombarded with phone calls wondering how he is doing.

HOWEVER

I believe this facebook group has enabled my two siblings to become complacent. They see how well dad is doing and are able to keep up to date on his progress remotely. It is further exacerbated by the fact that dad really cannot communicate on the phone anymore so they cannot call him to keep that connection alive.  They really need to visit him in person. And to really see how he is doing, they need to visit for a few days, not a few hours a couple of times a year. Every day can be different with the Dementia experience. On one day dad could be pretty verbal for a short time and then be unable to communicate the rest of the day.  If you pop in for a few hours, you may catch him on a good day. This is wonderful, but it doesn’t give you a true sense of the magnitude of the job of caregiving day in and day out.

SO WHERE DOES THIS LEAVE US?

If you are not the direct caregiver because you live out of town, that does NOT let you off the hook of providing care for your loved one. What it means is you have to help in other ways. You should be calling the direct caregiver regularly and asking them how you can help. You should be doing things like sending notes thanking them for taking care of dad and telling them how much you appreciate it. You can be sending short notes to your father letting him know that you are thinking of him (since he cannot speak on the phone).

You have no idea how much of a sacrifice this is for the direct caregiver and their family. Unable to work, the family sacrifices current income and is not able to contribute to their own future retirement. Vacations become difficult to manage because you are your loved one’s voice and their advocate.

A large percentage of caregivers do not survive the person they are caring for. This is a highly stressful experience, both physically and emotionally.

I have it much better than someone who is caring for their loved one in their home because my dad is in an assisted living facility. However, that facility is taking care of just his basic needs. To care for him as he deserves, there is much more to be done. I am there 6-7 days a week normally. I spend hours with him. Most of the time he cannot communicate, so I am his advocate. I make him feel connected and feel like he is communicating (even though he does not make any sense) by doing improv with him (Oh really?  Tell me more!).

I walk him and do stretching exercises with him. These are just the basics.  Then there are all of the doctor appointments that can sometimes kill a half a day. Because of his mobility issues, I sometimes have to enlist my husband to help get him to the appointments, so now two of us have killed half a day.

This is what caregiving involves:

  • Medicare advocacy
  • Doing his laundry
  • Managing the inventory of his medications
  • Taking him to doctor’s appointments
  • A daily commute (sometimes more than once a day)
  • Trips to the VA in Philly
  • Trips to the VA in Coatesville
  • Fixing his wheelchair
  • Managing his hearing aids and batteries
  • Management of incontinence supplies
  • Healthcare advocate (acting as the liaison between about six doctors, none of whom communicate with each other as that is how our healthcare system is set up)
  • Parkinson’s expert (staying up to date, participating in webinars on the disease)
  • Paying his bills
  • Shopping for him (new clothes as his trousers frequently rip from people grabbing his waistband to hoist him to a standing position)
  • Constantly thinking about new ways to stimulate him mentally
  • Researching and finding specialized therapy, and being at every single therapy appointment (because he cannot communicate for himself and he tends to participate better if I am there)
  • Researching and locating a geriatric massage therapist and being at each massage to facilitate
  • Monitoring how he feels since he cannot easily tell the staff when something is bothering him, but I can tell
  • Figuring out the logistics of transporting a body interstate and pre-paying for his future funeral…and there is probably more that I am not thinking about.

I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU HAVE BUSINESSES AND JOBS.  I GET IT.  BUT YOU ALSO HAVE A FATHER.

You are missing out not only on the opportunity of spending time with him, and the rewards that come from knowing that you helped to take care of your dad after all that he gave to you. And you are also fracturing your future relationship with your sibling, the one who has shouldered most of his care.

I want to be clear, one of my brothers has been generous and recently took me to see my favorite artist perform when she was in town and sent me a gift card for a massage about a year ago. My cousins have each visited a couple of times.  My step brother and sister-in-law have visited a couple of times for short visits. For that I am grateful.

What I need is more than that.

Let me be brutally honest.  I need a week off.  I need a few days off now and again.  Not once a year, but periodically. I need my siblings to step it up and participate in the care of our father. Last night, I attended a session on caregiving sponsored by the facility where my dad lives. The examples they gave talked about how one sibling did the majority of caregiving because they were local but the others alternated visiting every few weeks to a month to give that primary caregiver a break. A break. What a novel concept.

I appreciate the fact that they came to dad’s recent 90th birthday celebration, but again, they came for 2 1/2 hours and then left to go home. That is not helping in the caregiving.

This takes more than a village. It is more than a full-time job. I want my village to wake up to the reality of what is at stake. This crisis in our family can either make our sibling relationship enriched and stronger or it can tear it apart.

Caregiving: Preparing For The Next Phase

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Sometimes when you are in the daily grind of caregiving, you become numb and forget to think about preparing for the next phase.

When you are dealing with a progressive disease, as my father is, each day you lose a little more of your capabilities.  The changes are tiny and only if you are paying attention might you realize what is happening before your very eyes.  I notice it only when I stop and reflect back, and then I see that progression. This week, I did a bit of that reflection as I was looking through photos from the last year on my computer. A year ago, my father was still at Sunrise of Paoli. He had just come off of a fall and had completed his rehab for a hip replacement. It was around this time that I realized that I needed to move him;  I realized that the place he was living was really not meeting his needs.  I also remember that at that time, I was able to communicate with him most of the time.  Yes, he had difficulty remembering anything short term, but if I kept my sentences short enough, we could communicate.

A year later, I am seeing fewer and fewer of those meaningful exchanges.

His ability to communicate is almost non-existent, although he doesn’t realize it so he continues to “talk” to me and I continue to do “improv” with him.  We “talk” but 95% of the time I have no idea what he is trying to say. I continue to “talk” to him as I want him to always feel he can express himself and I am hoping through my improv skills I make him feel as if he is communicating with me.  He is still able to follow simple directions, which is great.

However, I need to start planning for how I am going to handle the next phase of his disease.  I predict that at some point he will give up trying to talk either out of frustration or because he no longer has the wind power to push his words out (another side effect of Parkinson’s is that your voice gets very very quiet). I have been testing out strategies for this next phase. And what I have found is that there is a tremendous amount that can be communicated through touch.  When words fail, I often just reach out and hold his hand.

It is electric.  I instantly feel the love flowing freely in both directions.

Sometimes I just massage his shoulders and I feel him relax and moan in glee.  This weekend I bought him a massage.  I found a therapist that specializes in prenatal and geriatric massage. He was in heaven. And, I’m told, he was able to verbalize his happiness to the staff all afternoon.

So when the going gets tough….and it will get tougher, it is important to start thinking about that next phase. The next phase may, in fact, be more rewarding than the prior phase.

 

6 Tips for Living to 90 With Grace & Humor

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Dad will turn 90 tomorrow. As I reflect on a life well-lived, I can honestly say that the way to live to the ripe old age of 90 boils down to these personality attributes. This is what my dad has taught me and more importantly has reinforced for me in the last year when I have been his caregiver.

  1. Don’t worry until you need to worry
  2. Most things pass, so obsessing on something will only cause unnecessary angst.
  3. Be content with where you are in life and look for the positive things about your current situation.
  4. Be grateful
  5. Always find things to laugh about
  6. Even though you are frustrated with your declining abilities, there is always a way to find humor even in frustration.

A prime example of #6.  My dad’s declining language abilities often will mean that he creates made-up words in lieu of the word he is trying to find. What comes out of his mouth can be truly funny. One way to look at that is to be sad and frustrated with his circumstance. What I have found with my dad is that if I can keep my demeanor positive, he reflects that back to me. So one day I suggested we create a Paul Light “dictionary” for all his made-up words.  He loved that idea and laughed at the thought. So every time comes up with a new word, I remind him that it will be going into  the “dictionary.” He laughs every time. (#6 on the list)

Where he is living, at Daylesford Crossing,  is generally a very positive environment.  The staff has picked up on this positivity and reflects it back to him regularly.  As a result, despite his declining abilities, he remains happy and positive (#3 on the list).

Although his cognitive state continues to decline and he has good days and bad days, occasionally he reaches out to me and instigates a hug, or says “I love you” or thanks me. It is on those rare occasions that I know everything I am doing for him has been worthwhile (#4 on the list).

And finally, my dad’s mantra throughout his life has always been “This, too, shall pass” which has meant that he really isn’t a worrier and he doesn’t get caught up in something unpleasant that is happening in the moment because he knows it is temporary. I think this has meant a much less stressful life overall. (#1 and #2 on the list).

Lessons learned.

5 Techniques for Caring for a Dementia Patient

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I have been caring for my dad for about 4 years, 3 of which were remotely and the last one locally. Like everyone dealing with caring for a parent or other loved one, there is no advance cramming you can do to prepare for this job – you wake up one day and suddenly you need to be an expert in all things elder-care. It is the ONLY job that doesn’t come with a manual and there are few resources to help you other than learning on the job.

I thought it might be helpful to share some of the techniques I have developed and learned over this time period. These work with my dad, and I hope that they might be useful to you.  Unfortunately, there are over 70 different types of dementias so your loved one’s situation may be different from my fathers, but all dementias have many crossovers, so it’s worth trying some of these techniques.  You have nothing to lose.

  1. Pay attention. Be observant. To everything. I missed so many red flags when he was deteriorating.  I was so concerned with pushing him into assisted living that I stupidly was relying on him (someone who I now know had the early stages of dementia) to tell me when he was ready.  If you aren’t there, every day, then make sure a neighbor is watching out for signs.  Some of the early signs that I DID KNOW about didn’t register to me as signs.  Here they are:
    • Losing the ability to “work” the remote control on the TV; or conversely, saying that his/her TV is broken. Again.
    • Difficulty doing tasks that were, before, second nature.  In my case, my dad could send emails, was on facebook and was pretty “with it” for a guy in his mid-80s. The day I spent one full hour with him on the phone trying to instruct him how to open a browser window, should have been more than a red flag; it should have been a rocket blast. But it wasn’t.  Because I didn’t know anything about dementia.  I thought it was simply, short-term memory impairment.  It is so much more.
    • Impaired judgment.  One day, my dad decided to reheat a slice of leftover pizza. So he put the tin-foil-wrapped slice right on top of the burner and turned the burner on. Can you spell F-I-R-E? Again, didn’t register as a red flag.
    • Word finding difficulties.  This comes with aging for all of us.  It doesn’t necessarily mean dementia, but it is a possible pre-curser.  So if you see signs of this, be even MORE tuned in for other signs.
    • Forgetting doctor appointments or to take medicine. My dad even forgot that he brought his walker to lunch.  After lunch, he went crazy looking for it in his room because he had literally no recollection of it every leaving his apartment.
  2. When you enter the room where your loved one is sitting, make sure you are directly in front of them and have made eye contact.  First offer your hand (even if you plan to hug them next). By offering your hand, you give them time to process who you are. Processing slows down with Dementia.  Their vision narrows and eventually becomes binocular so don’t come at him from the side as you may startle them.  The instinct to shake hands will never leave them and by extending your hand to them, they will take yours instinctively.  Then tell them who you are, even if you think they should know you. And make sure to tell them your relationship.  “Hi Uncle Paul, it’s Bev, your niece.”
  3. Always tell them what you are about to do or where you are going (if you move them). Their world is very scary right now.  They want advance notice of any changes. The fewer changes you can make, the more comfortable they are.  If you never take them from the facility where they are living, they won’t care, as long as their routine isn’t disrupted.  For them, routine means safety.
  4. If you are a healthcare provider and want to take their blood pressure or re-bandage a wound, make sure to tell them what you are going to do and why and then, most importantly, ASK THEIR PERMISSION TO DO SO.  They have so little control left; they want to retain control over their body.
  5. Try to focus your activities on things they can still do.  Music is a wonderful activity as it is retained in a part of the brain that is unaffected by Dementia.  Dance together.  Do karaoke. Play name that tune. Play catch with a beach ball or a football, even from a seated position.  Hand eye coordination seems to stay in place and it can be fun!
I will continue with more techniques in future blog posts, so check back.  And if you haven’t subscribed, please sign up so you’ll get the next blog post delivered to your email. And finally, if you have any techniques that have worked for you, PLEASE SHARE THEM WITH ME!  I am always learning on this job.

 

Trying to Out Run the Inevitable

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Lately, I have felt like I am trying to outrun a boulder rolling down the hill right towards me.  I am trying to outrun it, to keep just ahead of it, averting disaster.  This is the life of a caregiver, but it is particularly evident as time marches on.

In the past month, my father, who has a plethora of health issues, including Parkinsons, Dementia, Aphasia, cardiac problems, now has another couple more to add to his list: Bladder Cancer and another hip surgery because the last one didn’t heal properly. Yesterday I made the decision to go back in for corrective surgery to his hip in hopes that it alleviates the pain he has been in. Before I can take him into the hospital, though, I have to take him to the urologist so he can cauterize the tumor growing in his bladder.  We just found out that he had a tumor and since he isn’t a good candidate for surgery, we opted to cauterize it periodically to try to stay ahead of the cancer growth.  Once he goes in for his hip surgery and then on to rehab, Medicare’s rules don’t allow him to go outside for any doctor appointments, because once you leave skilled, they won’t let you back in without considering it a new episode (which would require another 3-night hospital stay). SO….to avoid that, we are going in to take care of the tumor and then HOPE that it won’t grow TOO FAST while he is receiving rehab because he won’t have another chance to see the urologist for 2 months.

We also have to get him in to see the Movement Disorder’s doc before he leaves for the hospital – he hasn’t been seen by him since last December.  Why? Because he unexpectedly fell and had to go in for hip surgery #1. Need to squeeze that in as well.

Hence the feeling of trying to out chase the boulder.

I am so angry about his hip.  Something to keep in mind if your loved one has to have hip surgery – particularly if they also have dementia.  Make sure you know ALL the details before you agree to anything.  I thought I had asked all the right questions.  When he fell last time, the doc said he would recommend the least invasive type of surgery, where they simply insert screws to help tighten up the fracture he had suffered (his was a non-displaced fracture).  I asked if the rehab would be easier because it was kind of laborious when he had his other hip done, although the outcome was excellent.  He said it usually was.

The VERY IMPORTANT PIECE OF INFORMATION HE DIDN’T SHARE WITH ME WAS that this type of surgery requires an individual to maintain a 50% weight bearing status for SIX WEEKS.  

Had he told me that, I would have told him that this won’t work with someone like my dad, who cannot remember anything.  As a result, the rehab was a disaster.  He was forced to be bedridden for 4 weeks (which is terrible for someone with Parkinsons, where exercise is truly an elixir) and then two weeks later, Medicare discharged him for failure to make progress. Nice, eh?  If the doc had shared that tiny piece of information, we wouldn’t be where we are today, going in for his THIRD hip replacement surgery.  No one should have to go through this, particularly an almost 90-year man. So the moral of this story is make sure you ask about the weight bearing restrictions, or for that matter, find out if there are any restrictions post surgery.  Then make the decision based on what you think your loved one can handle.

 

 

 

The Roller Coaster Ride of Emotions a Caregiver Feels

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If you are a caregiver providing support and care for a parent or loved one, then this blog post will confirm what you are already feeling.  I want you to know that you are not alone. If you are a sibling or a relative who is across the country and only checking in from time to time on your parent or loved one, let me give you an inside look at differences in your experiences to those of the direct caregiver.

As you know, I am the primary caregiver for my dad, who has Parkinsons’ and Dementia. Every day that I visit him, and it is EVERY day, I am mourning him. From the time I moved him near me after he fell last summer and fractured his pelvis and, I believe, hit his head, he effectively passed away for me. The father whom I spend time with each day, is not the father  I knew. Although from time to time he pops back in to show himself, for the most part, we don’t have many meaningful exchanges.  His language is completely compromised and I spent most of my time being his advocate and making sure he is getting proper and appropriate care. And I make sure to show him daily that I love him and will protect him.

That said, I mourn for my dad every single day.  It is an ongoing, dragged out sense of loss.  Very different than one feels typically upon the passing of a loved one where the grief is overwhelming and complete.  For me, it is a daily experience.  When the time comes that he does pass away, for me, it will be a celebration.  It will be a sense of relief.  I know that no one, unless you have experienced what it is like to care for someone – on the front lines – you may not understand this.  But it is real.  Very real.