This week I want to write about something a little more somber. Many friends have lost parents this year and many more have parents in hospitals, rehabilitation centers, or some type of care facility.

This topic hit home for me last week when my mother (who lives across the country) decided to have a knee replacement and contracted MRSA. Trying to deal with doctors, case workers in a different time zone has caused me to learn some new curse words. I wanted to share a few details (not curse words) that I’ve learned and please email me things you’ve learned. We can help each other.

This information only deals with medicine in America and although our healthcare can be different at a state level, I found very little difference between my experience on one side of the country and my friends’ experience on this side of the country. If you live in one of the civilized countries that guarantee their citizens healthcare…well, lucky you.

The 3 day rule. Why 3 days? It’s a magic number. The Trinity. Who the hell knows? For Medicare to help pay for rehabilitation your parent must stay at least 3 days in the hospital. No matter how minor the situation, if your parent is going to need some type of rehabilitation afterwards they must stay 3 days or else pay for it out of pocket.

Linked to this or maybe because of it, most hospitals will try to get rid of the patient after 3 days. A few years ago, my mother broke her hip, was on a bladder bag, hadn’t had a minute of walking therapy, and at the end of day 3, the hospital was packing her up to send her home.

How were we supposed to get her out of the car and into the house? How were we supposed to change the bladder bag without causing infection? How were we supposed to help her get on her feet and when?

When I pointed these questions out to the case worker (don’t know how she didn’t see them on her own) the case worker suggested my mother go first to a rehabilitation center. Really?

Do you see where I’m going with this? You can’t expect the right things to happen. You have to be on top of what the hospital is planning every minute. This decision to send her home was made in the morning and would have been executed within two hours. We had no prior notice this hospital would be releasing her that day.

Also try not to be released on a weekend. So many things can go wrong. Billing is closed. Doctors aren’t available. Etc. My mother was sent to a rehabilitation center on a Saturday and her prescriptions weren’t sent with her. She had to go from Saturday afternoon until Monday without meds. Another lesson learned. Make sure you have everything before leaving the hospital.

Lastly, I’d like to leave you with a few sites you can go to get information.
AARP www.aarp.org/caregiving
National Alliance for Caregiving www.caregiver.org

At the Federal level:
National Institute of Health www.NIHSeniorHealth.gov
U.S. Administration of Aging www.aoa.gov

(Play back Full Screen at 720p for maximum pleasure)
This past Christmas my friend, Rich, invited us on his boat for the San Rafael lighted boat parade.  The weather was great, the crew was hilarious, and the decorated boats were amazing.
Because the boat had been serviced the day before and the mechanic hadn’t reconnected the second engine we had a little drama.

My friend Kim, who was aboard, wrote a little piece about the event, which I want to share with you below:

T’was the night of the 17th when all through the boat
everyone was arriving with snacks and heavy coats.
The children were snuggled up tight in their life vests
while visions of gin and tonics danced in the adults’ heads;
and Mom in her Christmas sweater and Joe in his best velvet shirt
had just settled down with a nice glass of white wine;
when up on the fly bridge there arose such a clatter,
LG sprang from his drink to see what was the matter.
Away to the window Rich flew like a flash,
tore open the windscreen and threw up his hands.
The moon, on the breast of the water below,
gave a luster of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear off the bow,
but a small docked sailboat with 8 merry makers
and a little ‘ol captain not paying attention,
I knew in a moment we were in deep doo doo.
More rapid than eagles we yelled and we screamed
and we whistled and shouted and called out his name:
“Ohhh Rich! OMG Richie! Turn!!! Stopppp! What the f—! Uh, Rich?
From the wheel of the fly bridge, to the downstairs bridge,
stop the boat, stop the boat! Stop the boat now!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
I could envision a collision with that boat and its crew.
Rich looked cool as a cucumber from his head to his foot,
but underneath it all he was sweaty and undone;
His eyes how they twinkled with fear, his cheeks were like roses
and his nose like a cherry (was it all those gin and tonics
or was his blood pressure through the roof?).
His mouth was drawn and his hair was white as snow
(but that happened before the outing).
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and managed to get us back to the dock without hurt.
And I heard him exclaim as I stepped off the boat,
“where the hell is my iPhone?”