Aunt Joan’s life savings have just about run out. And because her care in the nursing home costs more than the whole family put together could ever pay, she has to go on Medicaid.
So now we wander in a paper labyrinth, part maze, part hall of mirrors, back and forth, up and down, around and around, and God only knows if we’ll ever come out the right door. Last week it was Joan’s birth certificate. Now it’s her bank statements, month by month, going back five years. Medicaid demands them. We have to provide them. And one of the banks seems intent on making this as difficult as possible.
My wife, a high-class bookkeeper all her working life, has been trying to manage this. Yesterday I spent all morning at a couple of different banks, finally coming home under the blissful illusion that we’d actually accomplished something. Nope. Just caused another avalanche of paper to fall on our heads.
I want to know how a younger person, who is not a widely experienced bookkeeper and who has to report to work every day, could ever possibly hope to handle this. Take a year off work? Or try to do all this when he gets home from work? Oops–everybody you’d need to talk to is gone for the day. Maybe magic. Yeah, magic! That might work.
I have to stop writing about this now. My head is pounding.