Medicare

The AARP card, along with some gift cards from places I get my medications

When I was 50, I joined AARP. It was like a joke. “Oh, I’m so old, now. I have an AARP card. Ha-Ha!” And I Ha-Ha’ed myself through the next fifteen years.

The Medicare (Pt. A & B), the Humana PDP (Prescription Drug Program) card, and the Blue Cross/Blue Shield Medical Supplemental (Plan F) card

Now, I have a Medicare card. I’ve turned 65. Back in February, I went to the Medicare web site and went through the steps for my card. I had to do it, because, in order to sign up for the supplemental medical and prescription drug programs, I had to have that Medicare number. And I had to get those supplemental programs because I see at least one doctor a month, and usually more. And, I take a fistful of medications each day. Maybe I won’t DIE if I don’t have those, but things would undoubtedly move along more quickly. And I have this grandson now, and I hope to be a happy, good grandmother for him for a while longer. And I cannot possibly pay for everything out-of-pocket. So, there you go. I have a Medicare card.

A couple of months ago, I spent an hour-and-a-half on the phone with Godfrey, my Blue Cross-Medicare liaison, getting everything set up. Godfrey was kind and patient, explaining everything and reading all the disclaimers. Actually, he didn’t read all the disclaimers. Some of them were recorded, and I listened to someone else read them. And Godfrey had to confirm my name and address about a dozen times, for all the different documents. Bless his heart.

I hope they have snacks and a quiet relaxation room and many breaks during the day for all the phone-in Medicare folks. They must surely need it.

So it’s official. I’m on Medicare. I really am, by definition, a senior adult. How did this happen!!!

And it seems like I’m frequently noticing the more seniorly adult folks around me. Using a walker at the grocery store. Bending over a bin at Target, but then not straightening up as they move along. There was a grandmother-ish woman at the nursery last week. She got out of her car, pulled out her cane, and walked, stooped over, up to the doorway. (At the time, I was in the car, listening to the conclusion of a story on NPR.) A few minutes later, she came right back out, to her car. Behind her, a kind, young, man carried out two beautiful hanging baskets of bright pink bougainvillea and put them in her car. Maybe there is something to appearing to be seniorly.

I was driving next to the Target store and was waiting at one of the stop signs by an entrance. A woman with a cane was walking up to the door. A woman leaving Target, and walking right in front of me, was walking with a slight limp. “This is what I look like,” I thought. One of my knees hurts. All the time. With every step I take. It’s not excruciating. It doesn’t keep me from walking on the treadmill or going to Curves, or spending Sunday mornings with preschoolers. But, it’s bound to be noticeable, at least some (or most) of the time. I wonder if a cane would help. I wonder if I could keep track of a cane.

I had a kidney appointment a few weeks ago. In the waiting room, I was playing Words with Friends and therefore looking down at my phone. A senior adult man came in and sat down across the waiting area from me. (Almost everybody at the kidney center is a senior adult.) He knew another man there and sat down and started chatting. I wasn’t intent on eavesdropping, but, they were talking rather loudly (senior adults, you know) and sitting pretty close to me. They talked about what they were up to. The second guy said that he took care of his 14-year-old grandson a couple of times a week. The first guy said he watched his 1-and 2-year old great-grandchildren every day. (Yes, that’s what he said–He takes care of his 1-and 2-year-old great-grandchildren!) They agreed that two toddlers might be easier than one 14-year-old. Then, one of the nurses came out and sat down next to that first guy. She said his appointment wasn’t until June, not April. “Oh,” he said. “I thought I’d missed it!”  And he went on back home. To his great-grandchildren.

“Listen to me, family of Jacob,
    everyone that’s left of the family of Israel.
I’ve been carrying you on my back
    from the day you were born,
And I’ll keep on carrying you when you’re old.
    I’ll be there, bearing you when you’re old and gray.
I’ve done it and will keep on doing it,
    carrying you on my back, saving you.

Isaiah 46:4 (The Message)

The prescription bottle came with a sheaf of papers, telling me what it was, how it works, what are its side effects, how to re-order when I need it, a return envelope. A *lot* of paper for one little bottle of medicine.

A couple of days ago, I got my first in-the-mail prescription. With the new drug program, it’s cheaper that way, instead of going to Target.

And I’m reading the obituaries most closely, now. For many years I’ve read over the names, looking for last names that sound familiar, thinking that they might be the parents of kids I went to school with. This past month, I’ve read the obits of two men … that were in my high school graduating class.

Keep on carrying me, Lord. Keep on.