brunobaby

It feels as if 4:30 came very suddenly today, but this is only because I spent the morning at the Nursing Home. I had a conference with the Medicaid rep, a young Chinese woman who was rather surprised at the tiny size of the apartment I live in, and more surprised that I had brought pictures of the apartment to the conference.

If my health insurance discontinues Jim's rehab stay before he can be switched to a hospice facility, the rehab will start charging me $400 a day. In order to avoid these Hiltonian rates* for half a room and a bedpan, we have to make sure something or someone is picking up the gap in the coverage. And if there's one thing I've learned from this, it's cover your @ss.

I also have it covered with something called “Spousal Refusal.” This is where one spouse signs a form saying she no longer financially supports the other spouse and then the other spouse is supposed to counter-sue and then you just keep suing each other back and forth until one of you dies. Kinda like the Beatles.

In order to apply for this Spousal Refusal, I have to bring a copy of every official piece of paper I ever had in my life, including either my birth certificate or my passport to prove that I was born in the US. I don’t know if I have a copy of my birth certificate around the house somewhere, and I don’t know if it’s in the safe deposit box. I called my father, because I know my parents have a copy around the house. He called me back a short while later and said that he’s surrounded by boxes of papers and maybe I should check out the safe deposit box first.

He's going to keep looking, though, and will fax it to me if he finds it. I told him to give me a warning. The fax machine is down the hall and I want to be there to intercept.

Any minute now, I expect somebody to drop something off at my desk and say, "This came in for you on the fax...Wow! You look good for your age."

Or at least I hope I do.

*Paris' accommodations for the next 45 days.