I finally go up to the window to speak to the clerk.  I ignore the stares of hatred behind me.

I present my case:

For the past seven years, we've always turned in our receipts and then been covered for Medicaid expenses.  This past month we went to pick up Mom's meds only to be told they weren't covered this month.  What changed?  Why is anything different?  We didn't do anything differently.

The woman looks at my records.

Well, she says, you didn't turn in receipts to cover the month's spend-down.  Therefore, you're not covered in January.  The last time you turned receipts in was December. 

Let me get this straight, sez I.  You're saying that the receipts turned in in December only covered December's Medicaid?

Yes - that's what it's for, she replies.  You have a surplus income -- therefore receipts have to be presented to show that you have expenses enough for Medicaid to kick in.

Medicaid woman stomps back in.

OK -- I'll do what I can, sweetie, and find someone to read for you. (if i have to is implied

She turns to vanish again and spies Mom asleep in her wheelchair, buried under her coat and hat.

Who is with this woman in the wheelchair, she asks.

I am.

Why didn't you say that in the first place? You'll go next.  You shouldn't keep this woman waiting here. (as if I wanted to spend my time sitting and waiting)

A large woman in a wheelchair comes in.  The lady who calls folks sweetie reappears and hands her a form.  Hey, the woman says, I can’t see.  I can’t fill this out.  Sweetie, Medicaid woman says, take it home and get someone to help you and then bring it back.

But I need this to go in today.

Sweetie, I don't have the staff to read for you.

What am I supposed to do, says the woman in the wheelchair.

Sigh.  Humph. Let me see if I can find someone to read the form for you, sweetie.

(Oh boy.  Two sweeties in two sentences.  She's pissed.)

Medicaid woman stumps off.

Nice lady in the wheelchair and I exhchange a look.

We get to the office and it seems as though there are only a few people in front of us.  One of them is clearly mentally ill -- he is talking to everyone and to nothing.  People are milling about.  Some of them are pounding on the door.  There are no chairs, no place to wait other than corridor of the hospital hallway.

Finally the door opens and a woman comes out.  All of a sudden a bunch of people rush in from somewhere else -- a waiting room?  They seem to all know the order of the line.

People are given numbers -- supposedly based on what they need.

I tell them that I'm there because Mom's Medicaid has been cut off.  Oops, wrong words, I guess.  I'm given a form to fill out to apply for Medicaid.  I take it to where the attendant is sitting next to Mom.  No, no, no, she says and shakes her head.

So I, Liz have been hearing this saga.   I get the epistle describing everything he's been going through and doing.

And now someone HAS to go to the Medicaid Office.  I volunteer to go. 

Which means I need to meet his wheel-chair bound mother and attendant at 8:30 so we can get to the Medicaid office before it opens, so as not to be there for hours and hours. 

I arrive at his mom's apartment.  Mom is dressed but not in her coat or in the wheelchair yet.  The aide and I try to get her in her coat.  Mom digs in her arms.  Oh great.  She's in a stubborn mood.  I pat her and kiss her and murmur at her, trying to get her to cooperate.  Finally I mention her son's name.  At that she looks at me and finally releases her hold on the table.  We get her into the wheelchair and manage to get her coat on.

I call the Bellevue Medicaid office (fearing that they won't talk to me due to HIPAA) and get… answering machine.  I leave my number, a brief explanation and hang up knowing this would be another dead end.  Again, a “Go Fuck Yourself Citizen” message would have been more appreciated. ---->

And so I point out that the DARB number was useless and that the Medicaid help line won't talk to me and that I am growing very, very frustrated.  She repeats all of the useless advice that all of the other well-meaning, courteous women at the HRA Help/Complaint line have given me.  I beg her for something more… anything more… and she puts me on hold.  She comes back and gives me another number... I ask a question...

And so, not wanting to give up, I call the Medicaid Help Line and am put on hold for 15 minutes. Finally a live man comes to the phone to tell me that all of the agents are busy and asks me to please give him my telephone number.  They will call me back.  I ask him when... but he has no idea: "probably within 24 hours."  Yeah, we'll see.  I’ll give you one guess as to whether they ever called back or not.  Back to the HRA Help/Complaint Line.---->

In any case, I tell her that I have no way of knowing if the Medicaid Surplus Fax-Line even received the receipts and that I would like to know if they did so that I wouldn’t have to find out two weeks from now that they didn't and then have to start all over again.  She very politely hems and haws and puts me on hold for about 8 minutes.  She comes back and tells me that I can call a city office called DARB (Dept of Accounts Receivable & Billing) and they can tell me.  And so I do… ---->