Settling In

My mom called me last night. She wanted to tell me that my dad had abandoned her. He'd just turned his back and walked away, she said. She cried. She pleaded for my help. I tried to explain. I promised her she wasn't abandoned. I swore that this was all so that she COULD come home. She hung up on me.  So I cried and I called my dad. For a few minutes I got to be a kid again and call a parent. Thank you for that dad, it's a privilege to be your daughter. You allowed for a bit of refuge in a painful moment. Of course we all know she wasn't abandoned. And we all know that she's in a very safe and highly esteemed medical center, because we'd have it no other way, but sometimes the facts just don't matter. So dad went and spent the night.

She's now a resident at the Evanston Northshore Hospital stroke center. The social worker at Presbyterian Homes has worked there in the past and assures us that it's a fantastic program, not to mention a tight knit family. It's also in the same building as the ICU, which means that our favorite Angels are upstairs adding extra comfort to a yet another fragile transition. Now that's she's strong enough, she will have several hours of rehabilitation therapy every day with the goal of accelerating her recovery and getting her home and back to her life. We're all hopeful that this will be another successful step in her recovery. And since she hasn't called me to complain yet, I'm thinking the odds are getting stronger.

Dear Mr. Scott P. Serota, President and CEO of Bluecross Blueshield...

Dear Mr. Scott P. Serota,

From what I can gather from your headshot on your company's website, you look like a nice enough person. I hope that you will read this letter with an open mind and an open heart. 

My name is Barrie Wilhelmi, my parents are insured by your company. On July 15, 2014 my mom suffered a nearly fatal and completely devastating stroke on the right side of her brain. At the time of her stroke she was a spritely 63 years old and perfectly healthy - it seems she is merely a victim of an anatomical flaw/a weak blood vessel. Fortunately she was found by a neighbor on the floor of her condominium building's shared gym and the neurosurgeon was able to save her life. She has since fought tooth and nail to recover and fight her way back to some semblance of her former self. It's been a harrowing journey to say the least. Although I am not technically an only child, for all intents and purposes I am. Therefore my parents are truly everything to me. You can imagine the fear that I live with every day.

The reason I am writing to you is because your company has been nothing but supportive during this journey. Approving her stay along every step, so in a way being yet another voice cheering her on and believing in her potential. Until now that is. My father received a letter explaining that she has "plateaued," which makes it sound as though she is merely a business investment rather than a human fighting for her independence. It is also grossly inaccurate of her current "status" according to a plethora of documentation and observation by her doctors, therapists, case worker and social worker. Every person who works with her is stupefied by this decision - a decision that has been made by one doctor at your company who has never actually worked with or even met my hero of a mother. In fact, having never seen or heard from this doctor, I am unable to give you his or her name. 

It seems to me that you are in the business of supporting and encourage human life, so I am pleading with you to help me figure this out. I have to believe that there are good and decent people in this world who can see beyond money. 

Best, 

Barrie (Leimer) Wilhelmi

Dr. Evil

Dr. Stein. That's the name of the doctor at Bluecross Blueshield who won't approve a longer stay for my mom at Presbyterian Homes. We're completely shocked along with the Pres Homes doctors, the social worker and the Bluecross Blueshield case manager. Go figure. It's hard to imagine Dr. Stein as anything else than a shriveling soulless ball of evil who feeds on kittens and puppies and is incapable of love. Seriously Dr. Stein, how do you sleep at night? Perhaps, Dr. Evil, you've had some trauma in your life that has skewed your sense of humanity, but write a book or sell a lifetime movie script, just please don't take it out on my mom. The truth is though, I don't care what happened to you as a child. The truth is that somewhere deep inside there is still hope that I hadn't known was there and you, Dr. Evil, have threatened it. We all know what happens when a Houston woman feels threatened...RAGE. Lucky for you, I've promised to keep the perverbial guns in the holsters for Stanley's sake for the time being because there are still options. 

Last week before this villain barged into our lives we had been discussing her going to acute care. This was (and still could be) great news. It means that she's strong enough to do a lot more intensive rehab. The insurance hasn't rejected that yet and luckily Dr. I-have-no-heart-and-I-eat-puppies-and-kittens isn't involved.  There is also one more Hail Mary play for insurance approval for her to continue her stay at Presbyterian Homes, which we'll find out about tomorrow end of day. The ETA of the acute care is unknown so if she gets booted out of Presbyterian homes she'll have to move home which isn't equipped for her. 

I know I'm not the first one to feel the complete injustice of insurance. I'm not the first to be blinded by the huge contradiction of their purpose and their behavior. But here's the part that really kills me. This life that she's living is a result of a choice she made to live. She decided not to die. She took the challenge to stay and fight her ass off. Pardon my french folks, but that takes serious balls and in my book deserves monstrous amounts of respect and support. Two things Dr. Stein (and insurance) are denying her. Appalling. 

Not All Problems Are Bad

"When I was in the ICU I had to choose. I heard someone ask me to stay."
"That was me."
"Well, I'm your problem now."

My Visit In Review

Now that the holidays are over, some of you might be thinking "I wonder how the holidays went for Pam?" Some of you may not have wondered that, but now that I've said it I'm sure I've sparked your curiosity.

In summary, I would say that it went really well. She came home for Christmas Day and for New Years Day. We took her to Into The Woods on New Years Eve Day. Rick willingly sat through a musical - that's love folks. As I mentioned in a previous post, they've decided to ween her off of the anti-seizure meds and because of that she seems to be gaining more awareness. Of course this is a double-edged sword. Yes, it's nice that she's starting to feel more "there," but with that comes frustration with her reality. Presbyterian Homes is certainly not a prison, and mom has made friends with nearly everyone who works there, but at the end of the day it's still not her home. We all try to explain why she's still there...because she's continuing to improve so much that it's clear her staying is benefiting her progress in recovery.

I don't know what the next step is because everything is based on the hypothetical. She has defied odds, so this is uncharted territory and we're all creating as we go. Educated guesses? Sure. Pre-emptive moves? Of course. But concrete answers - no. We're all just coach and pit crew "running" along side her with cranberry juice and chocolate, clean gear, motivational posters and her phone. She's taken the lead.