'Til human voices wake us, and we drown'

I brought two of Dad's poetry books from college to the hospital, old, worn copies of Eliot and Yeats. The have his scribbled chicken scrawl signature inside, and his notes in the margins. I had hoped to read to him some of his favorites, but he has lost all interest in the things he used to enjoy. Now I carry them with me like talismans: bits of my father's former self, bound in faded grey paper.

We are dealing with a nightmare right now. Not just my father dying, that is bad enough, but the difficult task of trying to not only find a suitable place for him to live out his days, but to get Medicaid to cover him. My parents are not wealthy. They live on Social Security and Disability. My Mom has managed to save a small sum - 30,000 dollars, not a fortune. And this is money to last her the rest of her life. She will not be getting any large sums of cash her way. No stocks, no bonds, no pension, no retirement. Nothing. And Medicaid deems that she has too much money. She has to 'spend down' for Dad to qualify. This could very well wipe her out, and they may deny coverage in the end, which will probably leave us no choice but to bring my father home. None of us have any nursing training. We cannot afford round the clock care. If you could stand on the outside and look at what we're up against, you would probably think it must be a story from a third world country, not here in the U.S..

But here we are, facing insurmountable odds. We are not alone. There are a million stories just like ours, we are just a million and one. I am outraged that at the end of my Dad's life, we are unable to simply provide him comfort and the best care possible, to just enjoy what we have left. No, we have to fight and scream and yell. 'All sound and fury, signifying nothing' I feel like we're drowning, floating far away. Our little family clings to one another as we hope for salvation, but it won't come.

My Father was a productive member of this planet. He was a champion of the enviornment before it was fashionable. He has hiked remote places, been a true adventurer. He led scout troops of inner city boys that no one else would take on. He helped gather gifts and food for Christmas families, and helped deliver them to homes so poor it would take your breath away. He worked hard, his entire life, and while we never had much, he always believed in giving back. He has given so much, and this is the thanks he gets. I am angry. I am disgusted. Please pass my father's story along, maybe if enough people are outraged, change will come. Next time, it could be your father, your mother, your spouse. Don't let this happen to anyone else.