There’s an old binder still sitting on the bottom shelf of one of my bookcases. The cheerful primary colors of the label stand out amidst the other books, especially because it takes up nearly twice the width of the next largest spine. It proclaims itself to be the “New Family Handbook” from the local NICU, and it has been sitting on that shelf for nearly six years now. That binder became the dumping ground for all the paper associated with my son’s premature birth, his month-long hospital stay, the small hernia he needed surgically repaired.
Month: January 2018
On December 13, 2017, I had major surgery. That operation involved hours of paperwork, both before and after the procedure.
Once my surgeon and I agreed upon the surgery, I had to fill out health forms in his office—forms about past procedures, about my current medications, about my physical and mental state of being. The forms even asked about my marital status. Does being divorced really affect how I will handle the surgery? Completing the forms exhausted me, causing my pain to exacerbate.
We take a man home on hospice from the hospital: end stage cancer, metastatic. His Power of Attorney requested one last pain shot of Dilaudid. We cinch belongings into bags, gather discharge papers and old flowers in vases. He groans being moved from cot to gurney, and again over the bumpy roads. It’s his final ride; we are his transporters.
Many occupational therapists struggle to describe the profession to patients, other health-care providers, and health insurance companies. Oftentimes, occupational therapy (OT) is incorrectly billed as physical therapy (PT), and some insurance companies do not even cover occupational therapy, reasoning that physical therapists can do everything necessary to address patients’ rehabilitation needs.