Tag Archives: Medicare

Hey Doc? What Would You Do?

My mother-in-law, Helen, just celebrated her 86th birthday!  She is the last of our parents, John’s and mine, and we feel lucky to have her around.  For her age she’s doing quite well.  She still lives independently and does pretty well with some help from us and even more from John’s sister who lives much closer.

As she ages, naturally she has more health issues.  But she is very independent and doesn’t want any of us along when she goes to the doctor.  It won’t be long before we start insisting though, because whenever she goes for a checkup or for a problem, we end up completely confused and can’t help because, well, she likes to keep things private.

In the last year, though, she’s had a few procedures that, while not too terribly invasive, still seemed over the top.  Unnecessary.   Expensive, but covered by Medicare and Medi-gap insurance.

Now remember, I am a bit of a cheerleader for doctors.  I have wonderful ones and they have improved my life immensely.  I work with doctors, I have friends who are doctors.  I am really familiar with the system and how things work.

So I have to say that I was taken aback when I read a recent article in the Wall Street Journal:

Why Doctors Die Differently

Huh?

The article was written by Ken Murray.  DoctorKen Murray.  Naturally as an all-too frequent patient/medical geek, I was intrigued.  The gist of the article is summed up by this quote:

What’s unusual about doctors is not how much treatment they get compared with most Americans, but how little.  They know exactly what is going to happen, they know the choices, and they generally have access to any sort of medical care that they could want. But they tend to go serenely and gently.

Oh.

No tubes.  No chemotherapy.  No machines.  Gently and serenely.  Well, whodda thunk it?

I know for a fact that doesn’t happen in the hospital.  They know for a fact that doesn’t happen in a hospital.  If it did, medical costs would not be so, well, costly.  You’ve read the stats, so I won’t go there.  You’re welcome.

My sister Beth, who was a nurse, had suffered a stroke that, among other things, led to acute kidney failure requiring years of dialysis.  Beth had been having problems for a couple of months when she suddenly took a severe turn for the worse, and she was in terrible pain.  Her sons were unable to help her and took her, against her will, to the hospital, where she lapsed into a coma.  But not before she was placed on all kinds of machines, respirators, monitors, dialysis machines, the works.  But she had really already gone.  None of that expensive equipment was really necessary.  None of it changed the outcome. Only the drugs made her more comfortable.

Selfishly, part of me is glad they put her on those machines, because it gave me enough time to get to her bedside and be there at the end.  She would have been glad to know I was there, but not glad of the expensive and hopeless treatment she received.  That is not at all what she would have wanted.  Would you?

So when I read this article I realized it was time to add an important question to the list I ask all doctors whenever I go, or whenever I go with someone I am trying to help:

“Hey, Doc?  What would you do if you were the patient?”

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Filed under Family, Hey Doc?, Science, Stupidity, Technology

People My Age

Well, it’s my birthday.  And I have a problem.

You might have noticed it yourself.  You may even have asked me about it.  Or wondered in stoic silence.   “Whatever will she do?” you asked yourself.  I am sure it has been weighing on you — heavily.  As well it should.

“FiftyFourAndAHalf,” that’s the problem.  It’s right up there at the top of the page.  Yup, the blog’s name.   I called it that in a fit of pique at the GOP who were going to take Medicare away from everyone under 55.  Starting with me.  It seemed grossly unfair when I was younger.  Like, you know, six months ago.

But, ummmm.  I’m not FiftyFourAndAHalf anymore.  I’m not even FiftyFourAndThreeQuarters, either — the name my son, Jacob, has been calling me.   Because my 55th birthday is here.  I tried to stop it, but, well, I failed.  My bad.

I didn’t know what to do.  I thought of taking a poll:

 

 

I must admit I was afraid of your answers.  More importantly, I was afraid that I had more poll questions than readers.

But then I saw this:

John Gorka, singing “People My Age”

It helped me make my decision.  It stiffened my resolve.  I wish I had thought of it sooner.  Like 20 years ago.  But back then, I didn’t know that people my age had started looking gross.

So I’m not going on to FiftyFive.  I don’t want to be my age, because people my age have started looking gross. 

I’m sticking with FiftyFourAndAHalf.

Man! I look better already.

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Filed under Childhood Traumas, Climate Change, Elections, Family, Humor, Music, Science, Stupidity

Sharon, Paul, Bob and Me

When Sharon Osborne, wife of Ozzie, appeared on the cover of AARP Magazine, I should have known changes were coming at the Association of American Retired People.  I should have been afraid.  I should have opted out.  I should also have realized I have not yet retired.

But I’ll admit that I did not see today’s news coming – that AARP would ever agree that Social Security can be cut.  Drugs must be involved in both decisions by AARP.  And we are not talking about legal substances.

Tonight, I’m embarrassed to admit that I am a member of AARP.  A reluctant member of AARP, but a member nevertheless.  You know those commercials that are playing now?  The ones with Betty White, talking to me and other reluctant middle-aging folks who don’t really want to be in AARP, telling us to “GET OVER IT.”  Well, recently I did get over it. Betty White didn’t convince me.  But still, I joined.

Shit.  Why didn’t I listen to Woody Allen and not join any organization that would have me?  Maybe it was because he was stealing the line from Groucho Marx.

But it was the magazine that seduced me.  Or rather, it was the cover boys who did.

When I reached my 50th birthday, AARP sent me Paul McCartney – Paul was my very first crush!  How did they know?  It’s a little bit scary that they knew about me and Paul, but I figured they’d sent me a sign in a good, wholesome way — I mean, they didn’t send me Ringo.

When I was seven years old, the Beatles had just been on Ed Sullivan, and for months afterwards I used to play “Married Beatles” with my friends, Laura, Lucy and Lisa.  They were sisters who had four wonderful apple trees in their yard, and we each got a Beatle whom we could keep in our individual tree and with whom we could smooch.  Hey, I was seven.  I didn’t realize that there could be better things to do with Paul in that tree.  Well, we fought for Paul, and somehow I usually won him.  (John’s marriage to Cynthia was something we knew, even at that age, wouldn’t last.  And Yoko would have confused the hell out of us.)

So when I got that first magazine, I knew my days of holding out against aging, against AARP, against Paul, were numbered.

And then came other heartthrobs:  Harrison Ford.  An adult crush.  Bob Dylan, an early hero.

Robert Redford, my early teen crush, appeared in January to help me celebrate my 54th birthday. He sealed the deal.  I’d had a crush on him before he was even a star, when he was in Inside Daisy Clover and This Property is Condemned with Natalie Wood, before he’d so much as met Paul Newman  And Robert hasn’t aged too well, either.  So he makes me feel better about that, too.  The list of the crushes of my life goes on across the cover pages of AARP Magazine.  The list for men is equally impressive, but that’s for them and their apple tree memories.

And so on my 54th birthday as I read the interview with Robert (or Bob as I called him in my later day apple tree-equivalent),  I thought:

“You know, this organization is doing good things.”

And I continued to think (hey, I can multi-think!):  “They will protect me in my dotage, when I need Social Security and Medicare!”  And so I joined.

So imagine my surprise when I got this month’s issue:  Sharon Osborne was on the cover.  I can say with absolute certainty:  I never had a crush on Sharon.  I never had a crush on Ozzie.  In fact, I never quite understood why anyone would spend their time with either of them without mind altering drugs.

So as an official AARP member, I have a question:

Who put Sharon Osborne on the cover of AARP?

Probably more importantly, however, are these questions:

Who the HELL at AARP decided that it is okie dokie  to

(1) totally abandon  their position on Social Security and Medicare that AARP has held since the Civil War (“LEAVE IT THE FUCK ALONE!” is what I recall seeing on their posters and position papers);

(2) screw over AARP’s entire middle-aging clientele, including newly minted and especially funny bloggers, and

(3) support cuts in Social Security that will leave millions of elderly people in poverty in years to come?

The answer to these questions?  They obviously inhaled.  A lot.  Residual effects from illegal drugs ingested between 1968 and 1978 have begun to take control of their minds.  And that is not my fault.  Don’t penalize me and my fellow middle-agers  for your folly.

We middle-aging folks need to get a hold of the folks who are reconsidering their positions on Social Security and give them a nice California Chardonnay to clear their heads.  Because we need the real folks at AARP to get back in charge.

Sharon and Ozzie will do okay without you.  The rest of us won’t.

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Filed under Humor

Fifty-Four-and-A-Half

Because I am fifty-four-and-a-half years old, the world is against me.   The world would be treating me just fine, thank you very much, if I were just six months older.  Read the news lately?  Some folks in Congress want to change Medicare — starting with me.  Starting with folks currently under 55.  Am I the only fifty-four-and-a-half-year-old who is seriously pissed off about this?

Some might say that by the time Congress does something about Medicare I will be over 55, old enough to be, ahem, grandfathered in.  Oh, great.  That makes me feel loads better.  Why not just say, “hey soon you’ll be dead and you won’t have to worry”?

Besides, that is not the way life works.  I will live long enough to be a burden to society, with every health complaint currently known and several not yet invented.  And I won’t have Medicare to help pay the bills.

What’s worse, they are talking about a voucher system.  You know — coupons.  And that’s how I will get my revenge against all the people who didn’t bother to say to Congress,

“Hey, are vouchers really such a great idea?”

Because I will keep my vouchers in my purse.  Those vouchers will be somewhere in that big sack along with everything else: my grocery store coupons, my wallet, makeup, receipts dating back to 1998, mints, gum (new and used), extra pantyhose, toilet seat covers, hand sanitizer, and anything else I might have needed in the many years I’ve carried this particular purse.  You will get to watch me search through it all for my healthcare vouchers.

And, I will not be the only one.

In fact, health vouchers will be kept in the purses of all women over 65.  Based on data from the US Census Bureau, I calculate that in 10.5 years, there will be 20 million women over 65 getting vouchers instead of a Medicare card.

Now take a moment to think about that.  A moment to think about an entire generation of little old ladies looking through their purses for their vouchers.

One of us will be in line in front of you.

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Filed under Humor