Alex, the VA, and Me

Blogging isn’t easy with a furball using the keyboard as a pillow and a paw rest!

I must be really getting old when I start thinking of a trip to a medical clinic as an adventure! Therefore, I shall attempt to tell you are bout yesterday’s trip to the Veterans’ Administration Hospital is as unswervingly as I can:

• I have been attempting to obtain this appointment to be assessed for a wheelchair for several months.
• I received the appointment for 8:45 AM yesterday in a letter from the VA about a week ago.
• As you may remember, I have pulled a muscle in my right thigh and am unable to lift my right leg more than a couple of inches from the floor making it impossible dangerous for me to drive.
• I needed transportation to the appointment: neither of my sons was available; my pastor and friend, Doug, was attending a clergy meeting; the company for whom Tasha works said she that she wasn’t permitted to transport me anywhere; the VA transportation unit is booked up through next November (!?); the only reasonably priced medical transportation service I located was not available at the time of my appointment.
• By Wednesday afternoon, I had given up and telephoned the number of the physical therapy clinic provided by VA and, after listening to one robot voice transfer me to another robot voice to another robot voice left a message requesting whatever human was around to telephone me so I could reschedule the appointment.
• Shortly thereafter, Tasha’s employer telephoned me and said that their policy had changed: Tasha could drive me if I was willing to pay her mileage because the VA, who is paying for Tasha’s services, refuses to pay mileage.
• Of course I agreed and again telephoned the VA physical therapy clinic and, after listening to one robot voice transfer me to another robot voice to another robot voice left a message stating that I would be able to keep the appointment at 8:45 Thursday morning.
• Jump forward to Thursday morning: Tasha was supposed to arrive at 8:00 AM to transport me to the clinic; when she hadn’t arrived by 8:15, I was concerned because I know how slow I move about.
• At 8:30 Tasha’s company telephone and said—as if I hadn’t already figured it out—that Tasha was “running late.”
• Concerned because of the notice on the VA appointment letter stated that I must be on time for the appointment, I again telephoned VA and, after listening to one robot voice transfer me to another robot voice to another robot voice left a message that I was running late.
• Tasha arrived just as I hung up from the call and, as I was getting my portable oxygen tank on, a real human being telephoned from the VA and told me that if I couldn’t make my scheduled time the appointment would have to be rescheduled.
• Since the appointment was at 8:45 AM and the time at the moment was 8:40 AM, I had the appointment rescheduled to the next available date, February 27^th.
• Just as I was getting out of my coat and portable oxygen tank, my telephone rang; it was the VA physical therapy clinic and I was told that, if I could make it there at 10:00 AM, they could still see me today.
• I said, “I’ll be there!”

Enough of these bullets! I’ll tell the rest of the story without them.

Getting me to Tasha’s car wasn’t easy because there is still snow and especially ice from the top of my front steps all the way to the street. Had I not remembered the hiking stick I bought when I was stationed in Germany, I would not have made it:

(I really must remember to photograph all of my sticks and share them with you as I promised a long time ago!)

 

Tasha dropped me off at the main entrance of the VA Hospital and then drove off to find a parking space. By the time I walked into the hospital, I was exhausted and sat down at a table in the snack room where I could see the front door. It took Tasha half an hour to find a parking space; because it was almost 10:00 AM, I had begun walking toward the elevators when Tasha arrived. I asked her to get me one of the loaner wheelchairs. She returned without one and told me that the room had used to have the wheelchairs was now filled with file cabinets and the woman in the room said that she had no idea where the wheelchairs are now stored.

So, I very slowly hobbled  and wheezed to the elevator and off the elevator and hobbled even more slowly down the hallway to clinic 240A and down another hallway to where I told a woman behind a window my name and the last four digits of my social security account number and she told me to go back down the same hallway to the small waiting room and wait. So I did.

I waited for 45 bloody minutes before someone came for me! So much for my not being late!

Now here’s the wonderful part! I have been approved for a wheelchair that is my size and strong enough that my bulk won’t break the thing. It has a special reinforced back so that if I plop down in it I won’t break it. And the arm rests can be retracted so that I can get close to my desk to blog and to my table to eat. And it has special handles on the wheel brakes so that I won’t have to bend down to lock and unlock the wheels. And I got to select the color of the chair and the color and fabric of the seat and back! The chair will be delivered to me in about three to four weeks.

Wow! It was sure worth all I went through to get to the clinic yesterday!