The cost of a med/surg bed at Crouse Hospital is $1,639 a day.  I have been here 16 days, therefore the cost is $26,224.  The cost of a skilled nursing bed at Iroquois Nursing Home is $315 a day.  If I had been there, where I belonged, for these 16 days then the cost would have been $4,040.  The waste is now $22,184.

The NYS Attorney General’s Office, Health Care Bureau, has advised me to file complaints with (a) the NYS Dept. of Health, which I already have done; (b) the Office of Professional Medical Conduct and (c) Medicaid Fraud.  The Medicaid Fraud intake detective says this may be criminal nursing home abuse.

I am still waiting for the Justice Center to get back to me.  Ms Lamb’s email stated that she had not done the referral to CNY Legal.

I have called Legal Service of CNY and am waiting for them to get back to me.

I have just received a visit from a spiritual care fellow at Crouse.  He’s Pentecostal and I’m sort of everything, which means that we connected at several levels, mostly about keeping your eye on the big picture:  there is one deity, and we are called to take care of each other.

What I was left with from his visit was an awareness of my failures to testify to God’s movement in my life.  I am an activist because God called me to make things better for people who are old, poor or sick.  God has my back, and I work really really hard to stay humble about that.  Fact:  God loves me.  Fact:  I work for God.

I am so freaking sick that I’m receiving end-of-life care but I still can work for God.  Nursing homes are supposed to serve people, not boss them around.  Providing loving care is not the same as ordering people to be obedient.

God is good; everything goes better with God.  That’s the word from my sponsor, now back to the action message.

Or not . . . I’m tired.  Maybe tomorrow’s blog will be about all the people and places about which I’ve never filed complaints.  There are service providers who get it right!

About annecwoodlen

I am a tenth generation American, descended from a family that has been working a farm that was deeded to us by William Penn. The country has changed around us but we have held true. I stand in my grandmother’s kitchen, look down the valley to her brother’s farm and see my great-great-great-great-great-grandmother Hannah standing on the porch. She is holding the baby, surrounded by four other children, and saying goodbye to her husband and oldest son who are going off to fight in the Revolutionary War. The war is twenty miles away and her husband will die fighting. We are not the Daughters of the American Revolution; we were its mothers. My father, Milton C. Woodlen, got his doctorate from Temple University in the 1940’s when—in his words—“a doctorate still meant something.” He became an education professor at West Chester State Teachers College, where my mother, Elizabeth Hope Copeland, had graduated. My mother raised four girls and one boy, of which I am the middle child. My parents are deceased and my siblings are estranged. My fiancé, Robert H. Dobrow, was a fighter pilot in the Marine Corps. In 1974, his plane crashed, his parachute did not open, and we buried him in a cemetery on Long Island. I could say a great deal about him, or nothing; there is no middle ground. I have loved other men; Bob was my soul mate. The single greatest determinate of who I am and what my life has been is that I inherited my father’s gene for bipolar disorder, type II. Associated with all bipolar disorders is executive dysfunction, a learning disability that interferes with the ability to sort and organize. Despite an I.Q. of 139, I failed twelve subjects and got expelled from high school and prep school. I attended Syracuse University and Onondaga Community College and got an associate’s degree after twenty-five years. I am nothing if not tenacious. Gifted with intelligence, constrained by disability, and compromised by depression, my employment was limited to entry level jobs. Being female in the 1960’s meant that I did office work—billing at the university library, calling out telegrams at Western Union, and filing papers at a law firm. During one decade, I worked at about a hundred different places as a temporary secretary. I worked for hospitals, banks, manufacturers and others, including the county government. I quit the District Attorney’s Office to manage a gas station; it was more honest work. After Bob’s death, I started taking antidepressants. Following doctor’s orders, I took them every day for twenty-six years. During that time, I attempted%2
This entry was posted in activism, advocacy, Fraud, Housing, Medicaid, Medical care, Medicare, physician, Poverty, Power, Spirituality, Values and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Update

  1. dee says:

    Oh , Anne , I used to be a counselor at CPEP. You are so good. I love you. You r right MC is a crazy witch. She hated me. I loved dr G. I will pray for you. You are an angel. I remember you. God bless. I read ur blog everyday. I was in nursing home rehab last summer. It had nothing to do with me.

  2. Gil French says:

    An FE is a community agency trained to assist with Medicaid applications. An FE may have hours or a location that is more convenient than the LDSS. They are available to provide application assistance but you do not have to use an FE in order to apply. Individuals who are over the age of 65, certified blind or disabled, not certified disabled but chronically ill, or in need of Medicaid coverage of nursing facility services, should go to an LDSS not an FE. To locate an FE in your area, go to: http://www.nyhealth.gov/nysdoh/fhplus/apply/application_centers.htm.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s