For the Record (Part II)


From the Iroquois attorney to the judge, interspersed with my responses [WordPress will not maintain indentations or changes in type face; basically the Iroquois attorney alternates with me. I’m sorry–I don’t know how to make it clearer. Quoted paragraphs are the attorney.]:

“NY Connects: Mia spoke with Cathy Demarzo at NY Connects, supervisor of the screening unit for the consumer direct program and HHA program in which Anne participated. Because she is in Crouse Hospital, NY Connects indicated they cannot go in and screen her. Ms. Demarzo stated they are not a certified home health agency and would not be part of the discharge plan. They can only go in and do a home assessment after discharge. Also, a medical evaluation form would need to be filled out by Anne’s PCP. If Anne was discharged with a certified home health agency, NY Connects would not go in unless the home care agency stated they would not be continuing care. Per Ms. Demarzo, were Anne at INH, they could assess her here. Resumption of services would take a few weeks. If Anne’s case was still open or on hold it would be a little different, but because it has been closed they cannot just restart her. Her number is needed is 435-5600 X 132”

NY Connects: I never have heard of NY Connects nor, to the best of my knowledge, been a participant in any program it runs. I am in Crouse Hospital but, as I understand it, I am still legally a resident of Iroquois. I tell people that Iroquois is my residence but I live off campus. As such, whatever this NY Connects thing is, they should have access to me.

“Anne’s PCP”: I have resided in Crouse Hospital and the Iroquois Nursing Home since May 24 and therefore no longer have a primary care physician.

“Fidelis Care: Mia has left 2 messages for Fidelis Long Term Care and received no return call.”

Fidelis Care: I have never heard of Fidelis Care.

“St. Camillus Day Program: Mia left message. No return call.”

St. Camillus Day Care: The last time I checked, day care programs would not permit the patient to take naps. Due do the uncontrolled diabetes mellitus, chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia, I have to take naps—often one in the morning and another in the afternoon. I currently sleep about 13 hours a day. This also would necessitate daily transport of my $3000 auto-BiPAP breathing machine, which would almost certainly end in its destruction.

“Central Park Day Program: Screener will not be in for a few days. In speaking with Patty Wilson, Mia was told they sometimes approve over phone. She gave a background. Screener should be returning call hopefully by tomorrow; she was going to be back on the 9th. She likes to meet before accepting but sometimes will accept over phone.”

Central Park Day Program: See above.

“Rothchilds at Menorah Park Program: Message left for Mark, the director, and no call was returned.”

Rothchilds at Menorah Park Program: Correctly, “Rothchild Adult Day Services at Menorah Park”; I’ve never heard of it; see above.

October 13
Unit Manager Laurie Fegley has set me up for failure.

Last week she came in at 1:50 when I was waiting for my 2:00 pain med. Without asking if it was a good time, she plunked herself down and read her “Updated Plan of Care.” It was her care plan for me; we did not develop it together, and it gives me no recourse when a nursing staff person mistreats me or fails to do her job.

Then Laurie read “If foul language is used towards staff or staff is being yelled at, staff will step away and come back at a later time.” This kind of statement is routinely used by staff as justification for not dealing with me if they don’t feel like it.

Today around 7:00 p.m. a nurse came in and gave me my medicine. I asked her if Dr. Erik was still here. She said no. I asked her if she could put a message in the system for him to see me tomorrow. She haughtily said that he was my doctor and he would see me every day. I tried to respond to her but she cut me off. I asked for the charge nurse and she said she was the charge nurse, then she turned on her heel and walked out on me.

I continued to try to get my point across. She turned, came back, and started yelling at me. Prior to that, I had not raised my voice but had firmly and insistently tried to get her to listen to me. So now the two of us were yelling at each other, then she again turned and walked out—and started talking about me out in the hall.

Fact: I am on ALC and the doctor only sees me ONCE A WEEK OR WHEN REQUESTED. I was trying to request a visit from the doctor to discuss medications. The nurse was bloody wrong and abused me instead of listening and learning.

I did not know the nurse or have any particular history with her. Laurie sent out a message that authorized her nurses to walk out on me. The nurse—for whatever adolescent, gossipy, drama-queen, power-abusing reasons—chose to use what Laurie put in her hands in order to refuse to listen to me when I was trying to make a reasonable request.

What do I have to do to void the “Updated Plan of Care” that Laurie dictated against me, and develop a mutually agreeable care plan?

And, BTW, Bob then came on duty. Thank God that Crouse has an intelligent, mature, responsible adult nurse who is grounded in concrete reality. Try to imagine Bob walking out on a patient or throwing a hissy fit. You can’t.

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
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