As I continue to travel on the dark and rutted road known as the SSI process, I had one glimmer of hope the other day. Out of the blue, a state health care card showed up with Sam's name on it. There was no accompanying literature, other than the multilingual disclaimer the card was attached to. But the point is, it showed up and I didn't have to do anything.
Then, I came to my senses and figured that I should investigate a little bit.
After a couple of phone calls and a couple of emails, I came to find out that, because Sam has applied for and qualifies for SSI (with certain restrictions), he automatically qualifies for State Health Care.
About a week after the card showed up, a thick packet of papers showed up in the mail. According to the letter that accompanied the thick packet, this was information about various healthcare plans from which Sam had to choose.
Also according to that same letter, Sam had to make his decision and fill out the form, and the state needed to receive it two weeks from the date at the top of the letter. This date happened to be about a week before we received this packet and since I’m pretty good at math, by my calculations, I figured that this left us only about a week (give or take) to get this done and it back to them.
Reading through the helpful healthcare packet, I found they have a plethora of choices. They have your ACO’s, your MCO’s, your PCC’s and of course, your ACPP’s. Even though all of this may have been obvious and self explanatory to the layman (of which I am one) it was not as obvious and clear as you might think. (I was, however, grateful for the addition of more acronyms in my life. I have been feeling somewhat acronym-deprived as of late and this filled the void nicely. Thank-you State Healthcare Agency.)
Since I continue to have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, and even though the clock was ticking, I decided I had better put my instincts for immediate gratification and resolution on hold, and wait until the next morning, when I could call Sam’s doctor and ask them what plans they participate in.
So, the next morning, I spoke to a woman at the doctor’s office and she told me that they took something called the BMC plan and another one (which I forget) - but only the MCO plan for either. But, she added, they also take the PCC plan. Okay, that was good enough for me. I recognize those letters! Even though I had, and still have, no idea what they mean - at least it’s something.
Sam and I filled out the application that evening and I mailed it the next day, which was Thursday. Even with the “lost” week, this was still within the deadline.
With the form in the mail, there was nothing left to do now except sit back and enjoy life (and do some laundry.)
On Saturday morning, Sam received two separate letters from the state healthcare agency. Both of these letters stated that as of the fifth of this month (a mere three days after the date of the original letter,) Sam was now enrolled in an entirely different health care plan, with an entirely different health care provider, than the one he had just chosen.
Since this was Saturday and none of the state agencies were open, and since I was still enjoying life (and doing laundry,) I decided to wait and call first thing Monday morning.
On Monday, it was back to making phone calls. I called the Health and Human Services Office to try to get this straightened out. The helpful, semi-interested woman I spoke with, looked up Sam’s information and informed me that because Sam was no longer a minor, she “couldn't speak to me unless Sam signed a waiver.”
“Okay,” I said, “How do I get a waiver? " "You have to ask for one,” she said. *Pause* “Okay, who do I ask?”
Well, to cut to the chase and save us all some time, it turns out that I had to ask her for the waiver - which I did.
The form showed up in the mail yesterday. But rather than fill it out, Sam and I let sanity prevail. Instead, I fixed Sam some dinner, did the dishes - and then we went for a walk along the canal.
This weekend, we'll deal with the form and get it out in the mail. Then, hopefully, we'll get back to enjoying life.
And, with a little luck, I'll find some time to finish the laundry.
Friday, May 18, 2018
Wednesday, May 16, 2018
Sunday, May 13, 2018
More From the Scenic Route
Here are some more photos from my commute. These were taken over the last few years and most, I believe, have been previously posted in various places around this blog. I'd tell you where, but I can't remember... and I don't want to dig back because I have an aversion to reading my older posts (and my newer ones too, for that matter.)
Anyway, here you go. Enjoy the ride...
Anyway, here you go. Enjoy the ride...
Friday, May 11, 2018
The Scenic Route
Despite constantly complaining about my commute - or more specifically, about the people in front of me on my commute - there are plenty of times when I think about how lucky I am to be traveling these roads. Some of these areas are quite beautiful.
Yesterday morning was one of those mornings where the cool of the morning clashed with the heat of the night - or maybe it was the other way around. But whichever came first, the end result was a heavy, low fog which blanketed much of my surroundings.
This picture doesn’t come anywhere close to doing the scene justice, but it was about all that I could manage at the time. A couple of miles from where I took this picture is where I come to a section of the road which follows down a valley and crosses over a river.
On mornings like this, the fog lays low and thick, hovering over the path of the river, yet it remains distinct from the upper mist which filters between the silhouetted mountains above. Behind the crest of these hills, behind the rising veils, the muted disk of the just rising sun filters through .
After the road crosses the river, it briefly becomes the main street of a small town. I pass an old grocery store, an elementary school and a post office - each of them quiet in the early morning hours. As I continue on, the road dips and winds and then climbs again, bringing me to the edge of a forest.
As I wind through the woods, the sunshine, first on my right, then in front of me, and then to my right again, flickers over hilltops and cuts through the branches until I reach the forest edge, where I travel down a sharp hill.
At the bottom of the hill, I pass a pond on my left, and then I cross over a small river. On mornings like this, both of their waters are covered with wisps of awakening fog, fog which rises in slow motion, before fading away in the early morning sunshine.
I approach another small town and the second half of my ride becomes more mundane than the first. When I run into problems, this is where it usually begins. And these frustrations often overshadow the ride entirely. But I guess that's the way it is with a lot of things.
There are plenty of times that this drive can be frustrating, and I wish it didn’t put me so far from home. But there are parts of the drive that I often overlook, parts that are quite beautiful.
Like so many things, I'm sure that someday I’ll look back on all of this, even the frustrating parts, and I’ll wish that I could make the drive, just one more time.
This picture doesn’t come anywhere close to doing the scene justice, but it was about all that I could manage at the time. A couple of miles from where I took this picture is where I come to a section of the road which follows down a valley and crosses over a river.
On mornings like this, the fog lays low and thick, hovering over the path of the river, yet it remains distinct from the upper mist which filters between the silhouetted mountains above. Behind the crest of these hills, behind the rising veils, the muted disk of the just rising sun filters through .
After the road crosses the river, it briefly becomes the main street of a small town. I pass an old grocery store, an elementary school and a post office - each of them quiet in the early morning hours. As I continue on, the road dips and winds and then climbs again, bringing me to the edge of a forest.
As I wind through the woods, the sunshine, first on my right, then in front of me, and then to my right again, flickers over hilltops and cuts through the branches until I reach the forest edge, where I travel down a sharp hill.
At the bottom of the hill, I pass a pond on my left, and then I cross over a small river. On mornings like this, both of their waters are covered with wisps of awakening fog, fog which rises in slow motion, before fading away in the early morning sunshine.
I approach another small town and the second half of my ride becomes more mundane than the first. When I run into problems, this is where it usually begins. And these frustrations often overshadow the ride entirely. But I guess that's the way it is with a lot of things.
There are plenty of times that this drive can be frustrating, and I wish it didn’t put me so far from home. But there are parts of the drive that I often overlook, parts that are quite beautiful.
Like so many things, I'm sure that someday I’ll look back on all of this, even the frustrating parts, and I’ll wish that I could make the drive, just one more time.
Thursday, May 10, 2018
Wednesday, May 9, 2018
Today's Brief Comment
If any of my kids ever catch me buying, or worse, reading a magazine like this, they have my permission to pull the plug - even if I'm not hooked up to anything.
Friday, May 4, 2018
Back on the Path
I’ve been absorbed with SSI dealings this week. Rather than go on about all of the fascinating minutia involved (you’re welcome) I thought I would instead share some lovely photos of the walk Sam and I went on last weekend.
As you may know. One of favorite places to go on walks is along the bike path that starts at the train yard. This path isn’t maintained during the winter so this was our first visit since last fall.
When we arrived, I was a little surprised to see so many cars - probably about seven or eight of them. Usually, there are only one or two and more often than not, Sam and I are the only ones there - which, along with the scenery (and Sam's company - obviously) is the biggest selling point, as far as I’m concerned. Thankfully, most of the people there seemed to be leaving.
Our walk was a little bit longer than usual - maybe due to the overlong winter, maybe due to the nice weather. Whatever the reason, we followed the path as far as it goes, looped around some side streets and then headed back to the car.
This jaunt included, not only crossing the Bridge of Death, but it also included going as far as to pass by the lovely sewage treatment plant. The one or two times that we walked by this place in the past, not only was the view of the plant obscured by the summertime foliage, but apparently the winds had been blowing in a more fortunate direction. On this particular walk, neither was the case.
Anyway, onto the photos…
Here we are at the train yard, just before starting our walk. Off in the distance is a train getting ready to pull away. Between the train and ourselves (and out of view in this photo) is a pile of brand new railroad ties, each freshly marinated in a nice thick coating of creosote.
Anyone who knows Sam, knows that he’s sensitive to smells. It’s not unusual for Sam to start up with a barely concealed coughing fit when he’s within a half a mile of someone who looks like they might be thinking of lighting up a cigarette. As expected, the smell of the creosote was not to his liking.
Sam commented on the smell and I took this as my cue to give him a short and uninteresting explanation of what the creosote is used for - which, of course, mattered not at all to Sam. All that mattered was that it smelled.
So much for watching the trains. Time to go on the walk...
Here we are, or rather, here’s Sam at the beginning of the path.
This is a photo taken of the farm fields at the south border of the path. Two years ago it was filled with strawberry plants as far as you could see. Last year, it was filled with pumpkins. This year? Who knows. Stay tuned!
This is a view from the Bridge of Death. It’s hard to get a sense of just how high the water is and how rapidly it’s flowing. Even though I'm not crazy about the high, rushing water, Sam and I briefly stood and watched as all of the debris of winter washed away below our feet - all of the broken branches, all of the dead leaves, all of the lost skiers from up north - all washing away downstream, just like nature intended.
Here’s a photo of Sam, taken after we crossed the bridge and right after we passed by the treatment plant. Guess which direction the wind was blowing? If you guessed in our direction, you guessed correctly!
And here we have a photo of Sam getting away from the springtime aroma of the sewage treatment plant, and heading back over the Bridge of Death, back to the train yard.
By the time we got back, all of the other cars had left and with the train long gone. It was especially quiet. I enjoy these long walks with Sam and he enjoys them too. At least, I like to think so.
I hope we come back again soon and when we do, I hope that the water below the bridge has started to recede and I hope that the wind is blowing in the other direction.
As you may know. One of favorite places to go on walks is along the bike path that starts at the train yard. This path isn’t maintained during the winter so this was our first visit since last fall.
When we arrived, I was a little surprised to see so many cars - probably about seven or eight of them. Usually, there are only one or two and more often than not, Sam and I are the only ones there - which, along with the scenery (and Sam's company - obviously) is the biggest selling point, as far as I’m concerned. Thankfully, most of the people there seemed to be leaving.
Our walk was a little bit longer than usual - maybe due to the overlong winter, maybe due to the nice weather. Whatever the reason, we followed the path as far as it goes, looped around some side streets and then headed back to the car.
This jaunt included, not only crossing the Bridge of Death, but it also included going as far as to pass by the lovely sewage treatment plant. The one or two times that we walked by this place in the past, not only was the view of the plant obscured by the summertime foliage, but apparently the winds had been blowing in a more fortunate direction. On this particular walk, neither was the case.
Anyway, onto the photos…
Anyone who knows Sam, knows that he’s sensitive to smells. It’s not unusual for Sam to start up with a barely concealed coughing fit when he’s within a half a mile of someone who looks like they might be thinking of lighting up a cigarette. As expected, the smell of the creosote was not to his liking.
Sam commented on the smell and I took this as my cue to give him a short and uninteresting explanation of what the creosote is used for - which, of course, mattered not at all to Sam. All that mattered was that it smelled.
So much for watching the trains. Time to go on the walk...
By the time we got back, all of the other cars had left and with the train long gone. It was especially quiet. I enjoy these long walks with Sam and he enjoys them too. At least, I like to think so.
I hope we come back again soon and when we do, I hope that the water below the bridge has started to recede and I hope that the wind is blowing in the other direction.
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