Retirement Warnings - Why Our Health Care Is So High

In case you’re wondering why our health care is so high, here’s a news blurb that explains a lot of it. It’s from “What an Outrage” in September’s AARP Bulletin.

A podiatrist copped a Medicare fraud plea to the tune of $1 million plus. My first reaction was: Can a podiatrist have a business that big, even with fraud? Then I remembered that my mother visited one regularly to get her toenails clipped. I guess when we get up there in age, if we’re not religious about our stretching exercises, we can’t reach our feet to do this on our own. Note to self: Kudos for your diligence and keep it up.

The podiatrist accomplished his fraud using “Medicare Advantage,” a program offered through private insurers but regulated by the feds. The podiatrist operated in Maryland, practically under the fed’s nose. It gets better. During the time he submitted the tainted claims he was prohibited from participating in federal health care programs. That’s right. His name was on a banned providers list, yet his claims sailed through.

That’s not even my favorite part of this story. According to AARP, he actually billed for foot care on a double amputee. The outrage blurb quotes a professor from the Kennedy School of Government in what may be the colossal understatement of the year. “There are many faults within the system.” Ya think?

This story naturally spurred me to search for more Medicare fraud. While I didn’t turn up anything as outrageous as the footless foot care, there’s been a lot about Medicare fraud in the news recently.

Co-owners of a chain of mental health clinics ran a $205 million Medicare fraud scheme and have just been sentenced to 50 years in prison. They’re convicted of supplying bogus therapy services to thousands of elderly, including Alzheimer’s patients who couldn’t have benefitted from group therapy. I’ll bet they billed for services to some congressmen, too. You have to wonder how someone with no brain could be helped by mental health therapy.

Two weeks ago the feds charged 91 individuals in eight cities for participation in Medicare fraud schemes involving a quarter of a billion in false claims. The charges are based on a variety of schemes involving medical treatments and services, such as home healthcare, mental health services and durable medical equipment (DME.)

The latter is the most common area of Medicare fraud, via billing for equipment that was never delivered. DME includes wheelchairs, hospital beds and the mobility scooters you see in those goofy infomercials.

Certain people should not be allowed to have scooters. They never drove a car; they never even rode a bicycle. They’re dangerous just pushing a shopping cart around the grocery store. You can be sure many Medicare claims for scooters are for people who (in some cases mercifully) never got them.

Even Nebraska, home state of America’s favorite boy-next-door Johnny Carson, is not immune to scams. The state website reports that scammers pitch free health care supplies as a way to get Medicare numbers. If you suffer from back pain, you could be offered not just a free back brace, but a knee brace, too. Sign now and get braces for both knees! (If you need one for your third leg, you’re on your own.)

The Nebraska site also warns about giving out Medicare information to people at health fairs (or was that county fairs?) providing services like blood pressure reading, toenail clipping and diabetic shoes. Aha! My mother was right in step with the rest of Americana. I’m aware that PETA extremists eschew shoes made of leather. But what the heck are diabetic shoes? Made from the hide of cows on a sugar-free diet? And are there gluten-free shoes, too?

As a final test of the system, I decided to get a prescription for Viagra. It was filled without even a wink. Some of you are thinking: “What do you expect. We always knew you had brass ones.” Perhaps. But I’m missing the piece that does the heavy lifting, so to speak. (You know, that third leg that isn’t eligible for a Medicare-approved brace…)

And don’t tell me that Medicare thought they were approving female Viagra. Pfizer doesn’t produce it. Unofficial female Viagra is out there in an appropriate pink color, but don’t expect Medicare to pay for it.

I have a surefire idea for keeping costs down. First, find a foot care buddy, like you had for grade school fire drills. Second, pick out a nice bottle of wine. Once a week, get together and clip one another’s toenails. Then open the wine and admire your beautiful feet. (Remember: Clip first, wine after.) You won’t need a podiatrist and you sure won’t need therapy.

Retirement Confessions - Annoying Habits

Recently on Live with Regis and Kelly, co-host Kelly Ripa described things that annoy her to the brink of insanity. When she described them, a frisson went up my spine. “OMG,” thought I. “She’s bothered by the same things I am.”

I was especially excited to learn that one of these is an actual medical condition. If the sound of people chewing their food makes you want to throttle them, you probably suffer from misophonia. I looked it up to learn more.

Turns out the New York Times ran an article on this recently, too, noting (in what may be the understatement of the year) that the condition is “little studied and poorly understood.” Wikipedia tells us “sensitivity… is often far more severe when… the sound comes from a person that is emotionally connected to the sufferer.”

That explains why my misophonia seems to be singularly focused on my husband. Even then, it’s not all the time. I haven’t been able to pinpoint the specific foods that bother me.  It’s not like he chews with his mouth open. In fact, the more tightly it’s closed, the more the noise of his chewing can bother me.

As far as I know, you can go to jail for choking people just because they annoy you. I don’t think that misophonia would be an acceptable legal defense. So I’ve found another way to cope with this. I simply plug my ears with my index fingers and chant “la la la la la” until my husband is done eating.

Another of Kelly’s pet peeves is familiar to me. As a young girl, she shared a bed with her sister, who made dancing motions with her feet all night. It drove Kelly nuts, and she described it as restless leg syndrome.

I’ll bet it was actually PLMD (Periodic Limb Movement Disorder.) My husband suffers from this occasionally. Regular readers of this blog may remember it from my Retirochondria post of March 26th. PLMD happens only during sleep. It’s a repetitive jerking for just a few seconds, followed by a longer period of no movement. This lulls you into thinking it’s finally over, but it’s not. PLMD can go on all night.

My husband has been advised (for other medical reasons) to elevate his legs in bed, so he stuffs a spare pillow under them. This has had the side benefit of slowing down his PLMD. However, halfway through the evening, his legs usually slip off the pillow and that’s when the dancing begins. If it really annoys me, I get up and reposition his legs onto the pillow again.

I must confess that on a few occasions, other solutions have occurred to me. Tying his legs to the bedpost would certainly help. But Murphy’s law, there’d be a horrific fire and we would both perish because I couldn’t untie the knots. Even worse, people would think we were into bondage. Our families would be mortified.

No. Hogtying him is not a viable solution. I’ve also considered taking that spare pillow and beating him over the head with it. That would certainly de-stress me, and it would wake him up, so he would stop dancing. For awhile at least. But my husband can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. In no time, he’d be back in nod land and I’d be lying there all keyed up.

The best solution I’ve found so far is to dance along with him. It takes me a few minutes to figure out exactly what rhythm he’s twitching to. Once I have it, I try to match it to a popular song from my high school years. Then I sing along, usually in my head. Eventually, I get worn out enough to fall asleep myself.

Yes, dear readers, I’ve reached the point in life where I’m quite adept at adaptive behavior. Which is a good thing. Because I’m also at the point where more and more things annoy me. Fortunately, there’s not much that can’t be tolerated if you have a good pair of earplugs and nice bottle of red wine.

 

Retirement Transitions - Charm School

There’s been a spate of commercials lately for Barbie’s Princess Charm School. My immediate reaction was concern for the future of feminism. Have we regressed to where little girls have a life goal to become a princess?

My thoughts moved on to charm school topics, so I decided to create Retirees’ Charm School to make you so irresistible, you’ll get invited to more events than a Barbie princess.

1.     POSTURE.

By the time we retire, we’re inclined to… well, actually, we’re simply inclined—bent over, that is. A stooped posture makes you look older. Walking with books on your head is still the best exercise for good posture. Collect several months’ of AARP magazines for this. They’ll bend slightly, shaping to your head’s contour, making them easier to balance.

2.     TABLE MANNERS.

Retirees eat more meals at home than those still working, and we tend to forget about table manners. Then we have our guard down when we do eat out. In addition, our balancing skills deteriorate around retirement. So we raise our plates to our mouths, or bend over so our food is just three inches away. Not charming, and bending over undoes all the good accomplished by walking around with the AARPs on your head.

Pretend that your spoon contains something you wouldn’t want to spill, not even a drop—a fine Barolo wine perhaps. Practice carefully raising the spoon to your mouth while maintaining proper AARP posture. It helps to actually fill the spoon with some primo vino.

3.     PHONE ETIQUETTE.

Retirees are especially subject to telemarketing and robocalls at all hours of the day. Our knee jerk reaction is to snarl some obscenity and hang up. If we’re feeling feisty, we give some clever retort, and then hang up. Neither of these reflects the charm we’re trying to cultivate.

Instead, inhale deeply, exhale deeply. Count to three slowly. Inhale again, exhale again. Listen for about thirty seconds. (That includes the time you’ve been inhaling and exhaling.) Then say in your most charming voice, “You’ve made some excellent points. Unfortunately, I’m a retiree on very limited income. My time is also limited, since the only way I can make ends meet is to (insert your favorite explanation here.)” Say a polite goodbye and hang up.

Here are some sample explanations. I have to:

·      Crochet toilet paper covers for the church bazaar.

·      Stuff envelopes for the Senior Center charity drive.

·      Shred Medicare paperwork for everyone in my exercise class.

4.     FRONT DOOR ETIQUETTE.

This is very similar to phone etiquette, except that you’ll be face to face with someone at your front door. It’s therefore important to focus on your posture and your facial expression. Be sure to stand tall, so the visitor doesn’t think she can bully you. Smile, but not too enthusiastically. Follow the phone etiquette steps, but as part of your polite goodbye, include “and I really must be getting back to that project now,” as you gently close the door.

5.     SENIOR DISCOUNT DAY.

Retirees find themselves able to take advantage of more senior citizens discount days. As a new retiree, you may be offended that no one asks to see your ID. This makes you feel old and cranky and anything but charming. Do not give in to these emotions.

Clerks are used to having people who are not yet seniors claim they are, to get our well-earned discounts. They usually let it slide rather than cause a confrontation. If you look young, the clerk probably just thinks you’re a deadbeat. Take it as a compliment and move on. Think back to when you turned 21. You hated having to prove you were old enough to buy a beer. This is simply those chickens coming home to roost.

6.     DRESSING APPROPRIATELY.

What you wear impacts your charm quotient. As a retiree, your clothing budget is limited. This won’t matter if you follow these guidelines.

·      Outfits that are charming on pre-teens are eccentric on people over 60.

·      Never wear plaid with other plaids. Never wear plaid with floral prints. Come to think of it, just never wear plaid.

·      If we can tell it has spandex, you probably should not be wearing it.

·      Clip on suspenders are not charming. Get a belt, and not one that leaves 12” hanging.

·      If your cords have worn to a shine over your butt, get a new pair.

·      God did not intend for us to wear socks with sandals. If your feet are cold even in July, wear shoes.

I could do an entire post on attire, but you get the idea.

Follow these steps and you can charm your way out of trouble and into the best social circles in your neighborhood. I’ll bet my plaid spandex jumpsuit on it.

  

Retirement Pleasures - The Fine Art of Napping

One of the great joys of retirement is being able to take a nap whenever I want. One of the downsides is that I seem to want to nap a lot. I’ve made an in-depth study of the subject and I’ve identified nine variations of the nap.

The most familiar is the opportunistic catnap, so named because cats have perfected this midday snooze. The best thing about this type is that you can take one anywhere. However, my considerable research shows that the best place is stretched out on your back, usually on a couch, with the sun on your face. If you’re not sure if the nap you are taking is this type, check your midsection when you wake up. If there’s a cat on top of you, you’ve just enjoyed a catnap.

 

Another type many of you will recognize is the post-prandial nap. This one occurs after a big meal, especially a holiday dinner. Men are particularly fond of post-prandials, except when there’s football on TV. My research shows that retirees become increasingly prone to these naps midafternoon, especially after a larger-than-usual lunch. Post-prandials are most appropriately taken in an overstuffed chair. They’re often short, yet highly effective.

 

The alcohol-induced nap is related to the post-prandial, but has its own profile. For one thing, you don’t need to have eaten before taking this type. It’s most commonly seen after wine tastings, including the ones you have alone in your own home. Many of my most enjoyable naps have occurred during what some might call a “wine stupor.” I prefer to think of them as research projects. The duration of this type depends on how much alcohol you’ve consumed and whether you’ve collapsed onto something comfortable.

 

Another nap familiar to retirees is the reading-induced one. This is characterized by the body positioned in a comfortable chair, reading material in hand. You may not realize you’ve had this nap until you wake up and find your reading glasses on your lap and your book on the floor. The older I get, the fewer pages it takes to induce a reading nap.

Likewise the older I get, the more often I need an exercise recovery nap, which is most effective when you’re splayed out on a pile carpet. Mowing the lawn takes 45 minutes, including emptying the clippings into an approved brown paper sack. You know, the ones you buy at Home Depot. They come up to my armpits, so I have to lift the clippings catcher to head height to empty it. I find this more exhausting than the mowing itself. By the time I’m done, I’m ready for a snooze.

A related type, the battery-recharger, replenishes emotional or psychic energy. For example: the robocall for my pharmacy’s auto-refill doesn’t work with one of my prescriptions. It’s taken weekly on an empty stomach, with a half-hour wait after. If I run out, it messes up my Sunday. I spent an hour on this with a customer service rep who had what I’ll charitably describe as a lack of understanding of the situation. By the time I hung up, I was badly in need of a nap to recharge my psychic battery.

The boredom nap sneaks up on you when you have nothing exciting planned for the day, but you’re not really sure you care. You stretch out someplace comfortable to contemplate some possibilities, and the next thing you know… ZZZZZ.

Rainy day naps are one of the great guilty pleasures of retirees. The flexibility of our schedules allows us to curl up somewhere cozy, soft and warm when the weather’s bad. Maybe we’ll grab some reading material; maybe we’ll grab a cat to cuddle. More likely we’ll grab an afghan that’s been in the family for decades and just sink in for a comfortable snooze. Eat your hearts out, those of you still working.

Lastly, the procrastinator nap is best taken when you have a long list of projects that need attention, but you just don’t want to tackle any of them. This type is another guilty pleasure of retirees. We can procrastinate as much as we want without risk of serious repercussions. Except, of course, if the task at hand is writing ones weekly blog post.

Not to worry. As long as I’ve had my quota of catnaps, post-prandials and battery-rechargers, I’m not likely to be lured by the procrastinator. I’m far more likely to miss a posting date because I’ve succumbed to an alcohol-induced nap. Now that this post is ready to go, I think I’ll pour myself a nice glass of vino and see where it takes me.

Retirement Milestones - Blog Anniversary Stroll

This post marks the one-year anniversary of the RetirementSparks blog. The impetus to blog arose from my frustration with the paperwork that came with Medicare applications (Toe in the Water, Complexities of Simplification Sep. 1 and 7, 2010.)

While 18 of my posts have been about Medicare, Social Security and general health issues (FDA to Issue Medicare Warnings Nov. 17, Acronyms for the Jargon Dec. 15, Retirochondria Mar. 26, 2011), 13 of them were about downsizing in retirement (Facing the Music, Thinning Out the Closet Sep. 4 and 5, St. Joseph the Realtor Aug. 20.) I’m still trying to make that happen, so you can expect to see more posts on downsizing in year two.

Topics have ranged from the sublime (Patron Saint of Retirees, Retirement Beatitudes Feb. 9 and 26) to the ridiculous (What If There Were A Final Exam Oct. 2, Ice Cream Flavors for Retirees Jul. 16) and everything in between (Species of Retirees Dec. 22 and Venice Expo as Metaphor Jun. 8.)

I’ve learned that my readers particularly like posts that include lists of things (Warnings and Contraindications Jan. 12, Retirement Commandments Mar. 12 and 16.) You also like posts that remind you of how hard we have worked to get to retirement (Signs It’s Time to Retire Jan. 29, Crankypants Apr. 16.) So expect more of all of these in the coming year.

I began blogging with some simple goals: to create material that would amuse my readers (Lawn As Metaphor Sep. 8,) and perhaps inform them(Alcohol Really Is Medicinal Sep. 15,) and to polish my writing skills. I also began with a schedule of daily posting, which I quickly scaled back to twice weekly. (That happened in week two.)

It turns out blogging is hard work (Tough Work Sep. 29.) Not only must one find the time to write and to edit, but it also takes time to come up with topics (Creative Sparks Dec. 4,) and in many cases, to research them and add “color” (Name that Paint Color Jul. 9.)

So my goals expanded to include having the discipline to post on a regular schedule, no matter how much I wanted to take a break (Going with the Flow June 1.) I was doing reasonably well at this, but by month twelve, it was getting harder, not easier (Taking A Pass on Posting Aug. 6.)

As year one comes to a close, there are 111 RetirementSparks posts (including this one.) I’m seriously considering self-publishing them as a holiday gift book. Not all are top quality, IMHO, but most are as good as the fare one generally finds in those slim little impulse purchases with the catchy titles.

In an effort to provide an ever-higher standard of writing, I’ve decided to once again adjust my posting schedule. Beginning in year two (September 3,) I will be posting just once a week, on Saturdays. My goal is to provide pieces that are funnier and more interesting. In short, posts that are more worthy of your reading time.

So look for RetirementSparks on Saturdays only, beginning in September. And look for my year one anthology (insert catchy title here…) around the end of this calendar year. Finally, if you have suggestions for topics (or catchy titles), please send them to me. My email door is always open.

Retirement Issues - Whose Nostalgia Is it Anyway?

A side bar in this week’s Advertising Age made me sit up and take notice. The main article was on the Pan Am brand and new TV programs scheduled for this fall that are tapping into a nostalgia trend. On its face, this is nothing to write home about. Or more to the point, nothing to blog about. What caught my eye in the side bar was the elaboration about nostalgia.

Before I plunge into that, let me provide some context. Influenced in part by the success of the AMC TV series Mad Men about the advertising business in the sixties, at least two new shows on major networks this fall hark back to that same era. One is Pan AM (ABC.) The other is The Playboy Club (NBC.)

I’ve seen the promos for these shows. They remind me that I wanted to be an airline stewardess (that’s what they were called back then) because I longed to travel the world, but I wasn’t tall enough. Even as the height requirements dropped yearly as airline travel exploded, they never got close to 5’ 2” in stocking feet. (And yes, we always wore stockings. Pantyhose had not yet been invented.) Even in heels I would barely have stood higher than the beverage cart. “Has anyone seen the stew?” would have echoed up and down the aisle. (And yes, there was only one aisle back then.)

One of the first Playboy Clubs was about a half hour from my home, but I never had a desire to be a bunny. Despite what you’re thinking and although true, that was not because I failed to meet the minimum physiological requirements for that profession, too. Likewise it was not because they didn’t make bunny tails sufficiently poufy to cover my ample posterior. (We could have clumped three of them together, after all.)

Enough about my anatomy. Let’s talk nostalgia. The Ad Age sidebar by Brian Steinberg opined: “…nostalgia is a powerful lure to reach the 40-something… upper end of the advertiser-coveted 18-to-49 audience…” Bad enough he’s rubbing it in our faces that after age 50, we’re not considered valuable targets anymore, but it gets worse.

Steinberg quotes Denis Riney, a brand consultant, with a point worth bringing to the forefront in this nostalgia discussion. “Brands like Pan Am and Playboy are emotional signposts that transport us back to an era when America was No. 1.” Riney goes on to reference “the swagger of the Rat Pack era” and what was then considered a classy lifestyle.

Hang on. Steinberg just said that the networks are using nostalgia to lure 40-somethings, but those “nostalgia” shows are about the sixties and seventies. The sixties are when the Sinatra Rat Pack was swaggering, too. The oldest 40-somethings were still having bed-wetting accidents in the sixties and the youngest were just popping out of their mothers’ ovens in the early seventies.

The same advertisers that cast us aside like a pair of old saddle shoes are now coopting our nostalgia. They can’t seriously believe that shows about those decades are going to provide “emotional signposts” for these kids. Apparently they do.

Google “emotional signpost” and you’ll find pages about the stages of labor (as in popping out babies,) and links to YouTube videos for a song of that title by a techie musician who goes by Gannon. These sites are far more likely to be of interest to 40-somethings than Pan Am stewardesses or Playboy bunnies. Hello, advertisers, are you listening?

Enough, I say! I have absolutely no desire to watch either Pan Am or The Playboy Club. But if those of us over 50, and especially those over 60 and 70, watch these shows in large enough numbers, we can mess up the audience delivery metrics big time.

The networks will likely guarantee their advertisers some nostalgic percentage of viewers in that coveted 40-something audience. The actual figures, skewed by all of us, dear readers (or rather, viewers,) will be vastly depressed for the coveted group, and wonderfully inflated for the age group that truly owns this nostalgia. The advertisers may actually schedule some ads that are targeted to us, if they can figure out what those should be.

Here are some hints. Where did Pan Am fly in the sixties and seventies and what travel bargains can get us there today? If you put Giada De Laurentiis in a bunny costume in my kitchen, what fabulous dish would she be cooking and where can we find the ingredients? What kind of wine should we be drinking with that meal and out of what shape glass?

If advertisers still don’t pay attention to us, we should speak out with one voice and tell them where they can stick their emotional signposts. I’ll drink to that.