Apparently, Diabetics and hypoglycemics

June 2, 2011 at 5:00 PM (Uncategorized) (, , , , )

the opposite ends of the spectrum where out of wack blood sugar levels are concerned, are out of luck if they are   Medicare or Medicaid recipients.

“Manifestation of poor glycemic control” is a broad stroke and Medicaid will no longer reimburse doctors or hospitals for treating these manifestations…


I know of cases where the person was monitored by a family member, following their diet and taking their insulin in a timely manner.

But they were caring for their terminally ill son at the time so their blood sugar spiked to 300.  in this scenario, if she’d had a diabetic coma, neuropathy, Medicaid would not reimburse for her care.

I know who they’re going after.  Folks who know they are diabetic who do not test, take glucophage or insulin and do not monitor their diet.   But…there will be too many doctors or hospitals that will not see diabetics now, and there’s no way to distinguish “good diabetics” from “bad diabetics” prior to evaluation, so they”ll solve that by not seeing them at all…

If they’re not seen, they’ll have more manifestations.  Like say blindness or amputation.  And their life expectancy will decrease.  And whatever manifestations hypoglycemics have (blood sugar too low) if you’re on Medicare/Medicaid and have that issue.  Good luck to you too.


Permalink Leave a Comment

I’m a controlling jerk.

April 7, 2009 at 7:24 PM (Uncategorized) (, )

First, why…

When married, the husband had his terminal ilness on speedial to the land of denial…I could see things happening and he’d be all “No, nothing’s wrong don’t worry about it, it will be fine….” ad nauseum…

And I can’t unclench the memory of how frustrated I was then.

The roomate, a good friend and rent-splitter, has no ties to me, other than that friendship.

The roomate has diabetes….while they do use glucophage, they don’t test or follow their blood sugar. Like another best friend with uncontrolled diabetes (The ArtistFromCentralOhio) I’ve discussed the folly of not monitoring their blood sugar with them….One. Time. I know they know what they’re not doing, and they aren’t twelve.
They came home ill, nauseous, and other more unpleasant symptons.

They got weaker and weaker. They got dizzy. I asked them to go to the ER.

“I don’t want to go to the hospital.” Then a round of really scary throwing up, etc etc later, I said, “You are going to the hospital *right now.*” Look of astonishment, with a healthy mix of annoyance…after all who died and left me God? But, they waited about thirty seconds and they agreed but were too weak to drive. So 911 was called, and they are on their way to the ER as I type this.

I just can’t freaking let it go. Anyone in my orbit who wants to ignore a chronic condition…and a wierd ramp up of symptoms….Nope, I won’t stay quiet and let it escalate until it’s way worse at 3:00 am or something…I’m not doing that waking up at the dead of night again and sending anybody off to the hospital when their in six hours worse shape than now…

So, I’m an ass. And I’ll be happy to be proven wrong if it is a minor deal…

Permalink 5 Comments

A member of the family.

February 1, 2009 at 1:44 PM (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , , , )

No, I’m not related to him. He’s a big cheerful guy who is most comfortable in the outdoors on a boat, fishing or not, or even the occasional hunting trip.

He’s also a Star Wars geek, and a carpenter… and he still calls me ‘Cuzz.’

He was my cousin’s husband, the cousin that always felt like my sister, before she passed away after a seven year long fight against complications of diabetes, she ended up with both visual and mobility impairment…It was a long difficult time for both of them.

In late 1991 they came to our house for pizza. Black humor often takes center stage when you feel overwhelmed by the fight your body is fighting.

My cousin Tiffany said, “Hey, do you *believe* how many separate diseases are in this room?”

My late husband, never one to shirk at odd conversation said, laughing, “Let’s make a list! ” He said, “Hmm, I’ll start. Hemophilia and AIDS.”

I took the next round. “Cerebral Palsy, Asthma and Cancer…”

Tiffany was next…”Diabetes, sarcodosis, glaucoma, kidney failure…”

And her husband said, “Hey!…I feel kinda left out!”

We couldn’t stop laughing for ten minutes.

It’s very clear that we’ve kept the connection because somehow, I don’t know why, he has a small obligation somewhere in his head that we should keep in touch and that he should look out for me in an appropriately small way.

One of my most profound regrets is that I didn’t spend as much time with them as I think I should have when her illnesses accelerated. I could mealymouth around it, but the cold hard truth is: after just finishing myself and the spouse’s long nightmare with my cancer and his terminal illness in 1993, my selfish want was that I *never* had to see another loved one suffer up close, never again…and so out of pure selfishness and fear, I was never close enough for very long. I did rejoice with them both and visited for longer stretches after she had a kidney transplant that freed her from the extreme discomfort of dialysis.

Near the end in 1998 I visited her in the hospital and tried to tell her who I was by sign, since she was blind and most of her hearing had eroded…I think she knew, because she smiled.

At the cemetery, he and I were crying. We looked at each other and moved into this huge hug that many misinterpreted…they thought he and I would be the ‘rebound’ sort of thing for each other…It wasn’t like that at all.

We’d both seen spouses through unspeakable things, and had part of our own innards pulled out emotionally in order that we support them as they needed.

He is the one person who understands as much of the entire scope of what I went through as an outsider can… and he believes, I think, that I am the same for him. Comrades in arms, in a way.

He remarried this decade and she’s been great both to him and for him, and …we get along well.

And after all the **** that his life has had in it….

He lost his job in December.

He has no health insurance.

He has no money (and by that I don’t mean even 500 a month. I. mean. none. zero.) He’s applied for SSDI Medicaid, Welfare, food stamps but those things take time.

His wife cannot work.

His electric, cable, phone have been shut off.

They’re repossesing his car next week.

And his landlord has indicated that unless the rent is paid in two weeks they will start proceedings against him. (When I heard this piece last night, I googled Ohio’s legal-aid website, gave him the number, and told him to call from his brothers phone, so they can stop the landlord from trying to evict him…I can’t do much from here, but by God, I owe him at least an effort to keep a roof over his head. )

But, he won’t be home this week anyway…

Because they’ve found throat cancer. The hospital he’s going into for the first round of 96 hours of chemo+radiation is helping him with an indigent program intended to ‘tide him over,’ until the benefits kick in.

There are two, single, very bright spots in all this.

One, from exploratory results, the cancer has not, metasisized. It is confined to a single source only.

and Two…the hospital he’s in…is the same Bigshot Hospital that saved my ass from cancer back in 91-92.

So, they’ll nail the cancer, I’m certain of it. He’ll walk out of there cancer free sometime in the future just like I did.

He’s chosen to be my family, and I’ve chosen to be his…

It’s interesting….because some parents or family members of person’s with disabilities can show ambivalence or negative emotion that they have this person in their lives…a relative…that they believe has made them work harder as a parent or family member than they would have had to do if the person was temporarily able-bodied.

I love my genetic family, but honestly, sometimes…

I love my friends, my family-of-choice a tiny bit more.

Because there are the occasional fights, the disagreements…the drifting away…

But not ambivalence. They want to hang out with me knowing (by this time, my sometimes difficult nature). They take me as is, where I am…no questions.

So I’m praying for my Cuzz today.

And I wish to any-gods-that-ever-were that the Congress would suck it up for health’s sake and *pass something,* so that he can have a *job* when he recovers.

Permalink 2 Comments