One month ago, my 87-year-old mother fell and shattered the L2 vertebrae in her spine. Xrays and an MRI determined she would not need surgery, a welcome bit of good news. Over the past 25 years, my mother had undergone three major surgeries, one each for fractures in her knee and tibia and one for degenerative disc disease in her spine. Despite these procedures, up to her mid-80s, my mom had remained fairly spry and active. Her recent decline, however, has been swift. For the last three years, she’s been in constant pain, her quality of life steadily plummeting.
A week prior to her fall she’d seen her physician, an internal medicine practitioner with Commonwealth Health Physician Network, for her semi-annual physical. During that doctor’s visit, my mother mentioned she was in agony and arthritis in her back was no longer manageable with Tylenol and Tramadol. Her doctor responded as I’d witnessed her respond to my mother numerous times over the past few years — she shrugged and said, “You’re very old. What do you expect?”
The subtext was clear — “You’re very old. It’s time for you to die.”
When my mom broke her back, I called her physician to let her know. She did not return my call. Yesterday, with my mother’s discharge from the rehab facility imminent, I called her doctor to request a prescription for a motorized wheelchair. The scooter, I explained, will allow my mom to perform the activities of daily living more easily and help with her isolation. She’ll be able to socialize with other residents of her apartment building.
My mother’s physician’s nurse practitioner called me back and denied my request.
At first, the NP Gail said my mother didn’t need a scooter and didn’t qualify for Medicare coverage for one. If she wanted a motorized wheelchair, she’d have to pay for it herself. (The price of a basic model starts at $3,400). I told her I’d been assured by a kind man, Deshawn, at Medicare, that if her physician writes a prescription for the motorized wheelchair, Medicare will approve it.
Gail held firm. Perhaps the wheelchair would do more harm than good. I argued — how can a mobility device harm her? Gail explained that perhaps the rehab thinks my mother needs to walk and that’s why she can’t write a prescription. Did you talk to the rehab, I asked? No, Gail, admitted and then said she knows that my mother will not qualify for Medicare coverage for the chair.
I pressed. If an 87-year-old woman crippled with arthritis who’d just broken her back doesn’t qualify, who does? I see people in downtown Scranton zipping around in them all the time. I know they didn’t all pay the $3400 out of pocket.
Gail countered with an offer of walker or cane or regular wheelchair. My mom can’t walk more than a few steps, even with a walker, and she lacks the upper body strength to use a regular wheelchair. (Have I mentioned she’s 87 and broke her back?)
That’s when Gail let it slip — the reason she and the doctor are refusing to write the prescription for the motorized wheelchair. Medicare requires too much paperwork. Writing the prescription and going through Medicare would be too much work for the doctor’s office.
I got off the phone before I exploded.
I will figure out who to complain to about my 87-year-old arthritic mother who broke her back and worked until she was 70, paying taxes and paying into the system that’s supposed to take care of her in her old age, not being able to have a Jazzy wheelchair because the doctor is irritated by the paperwork involved. I will advocate for my mother.
This situation has scared me. I’m single; no children or grandchildren. I will not, in all likelihood, have a person like me advocating for me when I’m 87.
But I have the gift of time to prepare for life as an octagenarian. I started years ago when I became vegan, gave up sugar and refined, packaged and processed foods. I am well on my way to becoming a SuperAger.
I believe it’s possible to have a much different experience of old age than my mother is having. There are no guarantees, of course, but there are steps I take daily to slow down the aging process. Sign up for my Substack magazine, Perennial, for health tips that will help you age well.
Dearest Lynn, I’m so happy to know you and to be aging with you and your wisdom and clarity. Sorry to hear about your Mom. When my mother broke her femur at 87, the ER doc said, well if that was my mother, I wouldn’t bother to reset it. I’m happy to contribute to Mom’s scooter fund. Let me know how. Love you, Suzi
Suzi, Thank you so much for your lovely words and for your generous offer. I love you. Lynn ♥
Lynn, I am so sorry to hear this. Your poor mother, having to deal with all of these physical problems and then the system that we should be able to count of to assist us when in this situation says a flat out no! It’s awful that what we thought was promised to us meaning that the companies we pay into for years turn a blind eye because it’s too much work, you would think that they would be embarrassed to deny your request, a simple one I think. Our elderly parents are like precious jewels, we need to take care of them and advocate for them just as you are doing. Sadly, both of my parents passed away years ago however, if they were here and needed help I would be doing exactly what you are. You are amazing!!!!
Mary Alice, thank you so much for your words here. I’ve witnessed doctors’ despicable lack of compassion for the elderly. My mom’s doctor, who is also my doctor, has complained vociferously about Obamacare and how much more paperwork it’s created for health care providers. I get it, the system is as bad for them as it is for us. But doctors still have to do their jobs.
When I lived in San Francisco, I envied my dogs for their health care. Their doctors treated them with such love and compassion, especially as they aged and became cantankerous. The vets returned calls, sat with me to explain options, helped me make decisions. They sent condolence cards when my dogs passed. My mom’s doctor couldn’t even return a call while my mother is still alive. It’s so sad.