Bureaucracy

Jack Deatherage

(6/2019) I'm no fan of bureaucracies. I loath filling out forms- either paper or digital. Since reaching fifteen years of age my unvoiced goal has been to eventually attain the state of existence where I don't have to fill out any forms! Reaching social security age, becoming unemployed and unemployable, being told our household income is so low we no longer have to file personal income tax forms, and only having the Motor Vehicle Administration to deal with every few years- I'm quietly exulting in having escaped most of the paper chase/shuffling games the rest of the common citizenry have to deal with! Except freedom has become elusive.

When MomD asked the DW to take over her bank account and pay her bills there didn't seem to be much of a problem as we were able to convince Mom to begin eliminating all the charities she regularly donated to so she'd have money to bury herself. She also stopped buying "junk" health supplements, which staunched a good bit of the bleeding of cash from her account. Though she made it to age 94 while swallowing those pills, capsules, tonics and powders, I'm not likely to follow suit after watching her, and various other old ones slowly, or quickly falter. I'm of a mind to skip as much decrepitude as I can get away with.

Paper shuffling madness restarted in earnest the November morning I found Mom head and shoulders in her shower, the rest of her stretched out across her bathroom floor.

"Mom." I deadpanned. "What the hell are you doin' layin' on the bathroom floor?"

"Is that where I am?" She weakly replied.

The paper chase was on!

Emergency room forms to fill out and sign. Fortunately the DW had all the needed information. All I had to do was scribble nothing legible where they told me to sign. More forms when Mom was transferred to a rehab. Then a mad rush to find her Medicaid card when Medicare stopped paying for most of her care once a doctor signed off on her needing constant assisted care. Then requesting a new card when we couldn't find her original, only to be told the replaced card was the wrong Medicaid card and more forms needed filling out to get the correct card! Who knew there was more than one type of Medicaid?

In the midst of this paper chasing we were also sorting through Mom's 24 years of accumulated junk in her apartment. Some things she'd written names on and we quickly got those items to the people she wanted to have them. Most of her clothing went into a dumpster, though the nicer coats and jackets went to Seton Center. Her religious stuff was boxed and brought home until we can figure out where to send it. And more forms needed filling out as she had been living in low income housing and government will have its pound of fles- err... ink.

While she was still considered capable of making her own decisions (her mental state has been questioned by me since she settled where I was the only one of her six offspring able to help her and I was given power of attorney for her) we prearranged her funeral. More forms to be filled out and signed. When she was eventually deemed unable to make pertinent decisions- yet more forms to supply answers to and sign. Then more paper shuffling as I granted Hospice of Frederick County permission to step in and ease her last days. Another visit with the funeral home and Mom's priest, and she was eventually in sacred ground.

Annnnd we're done with filling out forms for MomD! Except we're not.

Social Security withdrew the last bit of money owed Mom and I got a letter informing me- to get that money back (we would have used it to pay for a marker stone and ship the last boxes of her stuff) I had to fill out forms listing her surviving children- including their SSNs, addresses and what-all. I tried to throw the forms in the trash but the DW saved them and contacted First Sister who agreed to start the paper chase for the moneys I'd already given over as lost.

Okay. If the females want to chase paper they're welcome to it. I'm out of it. Except Fire and Rescue sent a request for Mom's insurance info for the transport to the hospital back in November! Really people? It took five months and a week or so to bill Mom for that?

While I was snarling and snapping the DW said she'd take care of the latest forms. (I think she became addicted to dealing with bureaucrats after working with them on behalf of the factory for forty-one years.)

While in the midst of getting Mom settled into long term care I began receiving phone calls and emails from people claiming they can guide me through the treacherous waters of Part B or C, or D, E, F, or whatever you have to pay for when you are forced into the Medicare program. Medicare? AHH! Finally, a chance to refuse a government bureaucracy! I delete the emails and block the senders. I tell the babbling voices on the phone that I ain't signing up for a damned thing- especially when I won't be using it! I'm told I have no say in the matter- Oh, it feels so good to hang up on the voices and not answer the phone when they call back!

The good feeling is short lived as I get an email from the MVA informing me I have until November of this year to bring proof of who I am and where I live in order to get a new ID card (the old one is no longer valid until 2024- the expiration date on my driver's license), or some undisclosed actions will be taken against me. Before I can blow a blood vessel I find out the state is also requiring us to hire a plumber to install anti-back-flow valves on our apartments waterlines. According to the forms (of course there are forms!) we're looking at close to $500 in costs, which we don't have. Oh, and the valves have to be recertified every ten years- complete with... ta da! Forms! (I think it's every ten years. It's difficult reading when I'm seeing red.) Comply! or have the building's water turned off.

If I've learned anything this past year it's this- Everything would be less expensive if it weren't for the millions of paper shufflers employed by governments and private businesses that deal with government bureaucracies!

If the DW changes planes of existence before I do, I'm calling the offspring and telling him to get up here and deal with the aftermath. Then I'm going back to being homeless. As miserable as that sometimes was, I didn't have to fill out forms or deal with governments.

Oh, before I forget- like that's a possibility- the DW says she'll fill out the 2020 census forms. Though why she thinks they'll arrest me if I fill them out is a puzzlement.