There’s nothing like the pressure of the clock. When it was time to take a test, our teachers said we had only “x” minutes, and when the time was up, we had to turn in our papers without delay. Just glancing at our watch while taking tests added more stress. Were we ahead of schedule or behind? Clocks add pressure in the sports arena. How many times do we watch quarterbacks see the play clock run down to two seconds and frantically pressure their centers to snap the ball? The clock adds pressure to golfers. They can’t take their time to swing a golf club or read putts. If they take too long, the golf officials put them on the clock, or they get penalized strokes. The pressure of the clock is stressful.
There are clocks in the medical world, which I learned in my Dad’s care plan meeting last week. Medicare has a standard of 100 days for senior adults who are in a skilled nursing facility (SNF). It doesn’t matter what medical condition brought them there. If they are in a SNF to recover from a stroke, they have 100 days. If they were in a car accident and need a SNF, they have 100 days. If they just became a double amputee, they have 100 days. Medicare has set the clock for recovery, and if the patients haven’t recovered by the 100th day, they are no longer covered. They become a private pay patient.
Dad feels the pressure of the 100-day clock. The physical therapist in Dad’s care plan meeting announced that if he can’t transfer by the 100th day of rehab, he will not be able to return to his assisted living apartment. Dad lost 70 days waiting for his new prosthesis, as he didn’t feel safe trying to transfer with one artificial leg while waiting for his new one. Dad had difficulty embracing the news that he had 30 days left to learn how to transfer with both artificial legs. He said, “I just got my new prosthesis on June 21st! Thirty days sound like a very short time frame. I’m not sure I will be able to do it that quickly.”
I can’t imagine what Dad is feeling. It feels unfair that a double amputee has to perform rehab as quickly as a stroke victim. But the therapists weren’t as sympathetic. They made it clear that they have helped many double amputees learn how to transfer with just one artificial leg. So the clock is ticking. I told Kendal, the social worker at this meeting, that Dad had VA benefits, so I need to begin pursuing this avenue. Kendal warned me that the VA is not known for providing long term care unless it is connected to his time in the service. My heart sank. Kendal handed me a VA brochure so I could contact the VA attorney to see if there might be other benefits we could pursue. I thanked the ladies for including me in the care plan meeting. I kissed Dad goodbye before heading back to the office. I gave him a pep talk and said, “You have 30 days to show you can transfer yourself. You can do it!”
As I headed to the car, it struck me that Dad is not the only one who has 30 days. I, too, have 30 days, but my list looks different than his goal to transfer. I need to meet with the VA attorney as quickly as possible. I need to visit with the nursing director at his assisted living apartment. What is the protocol to terminate the rent agreement in case he’s not going back there? If he can’t go back home, then our family needs to deal with moving all of his stuff out, but where? There’s no room at a nursing home facility. How much of his things should we donate versus keep? I have to figure out the financial implications. If he doesn’t qualify for VA benefits, then all of his income could potentially go toward nursing home expenses, which means we’re looking at Medicaid. What about credit card bills? Most importantly, I need to shop for affordable nursing care and do site visits. Whatever facility is best for my Dad will need to have an available bed, preferably a private room, on July 29th. I also need to figure out how to transport him. He doesn’t fit in my car, and if the facility is not in town, then finding transportation may be a problem. I feel the pressure of the clock.
As I get my track shoes on to race the clock, I am comforted knowing that God already has the facility picked out. He already knows what the financial picture will be. My family is ready to help me get him moved out if necessary. The Lord will help me navigate through the VA system. In the end, God is sovereign, and He is the true caregiver. I look forward to seeing how He leads our family to do what’s in the best interest of my Dad and be financially sound. Please keep the prayers coming. The next 30 days is filled with stress. Dad has 30 days to learn how to transfer, and I have 30 days to find an affordable facility in case he can’t transfer. The Lord will get us to this finish line in a glorious way. He always does.
Blessings, Lee Ann