So gather round, my friends, for a little story about my recent experience with a government agency.
Unless you have a child with a disability, you’ve probably never heard of this thing that’s called the Home and Community Based Services Medicaid Waiver.
The deal is this. If you have a child who has a disability that is expected to be…for lack of a better word…”permanent”…it’s likely that you are a candidate for this Waiver. The Waiver services include things like job coaching…living assistance…etc., etc.,etc. Basically it covers some of the costs that families incur when they elect to keep their disabled child at home, rather than placing him/her in a care facility. The HCBS Waiver pays around $14,000 a year for such services. The waiver is not income based…you can have two lawyer parents in the house and still qualify.
Currently, there is a seven to ten year wait list to receive the HCBS Waiver services.
Now that Noah is eight, I decided recently that it’s time to get him on the wait list for the Waiver. (I probably should have done this three years ago, but three years ago I was neck deep in the early days of biomedical interventions with Noah and did not have two brain cells to spare to think of the future…so there ya go.)
I started my search for information on google.com. I entered something like “Florida Medicaid Waiver”.
I clicked on an option that led me to the Department of Children and Families.
After perusing the website for a few minutes, I found the object of my search. The instructions were to fill out the online Medicaid application and select the “Home and Community Based Services Waiver” option.
Seemed easy. So…I clicked on the application.
At the top of the application was the question…”Which waiver are you applying for?”
I clicked the bubble beside the words “Home and Community Based Services”.
After spending thirty minutes filling out an application that got all up in my business, I hit “send”.
Two days later, my cell phone rang.
A very kind but flustered lady on the other end of the phone identified herself as being from the Medicaid/DCF office. She breathlessly said, “ma’m…I am looking at your application for services, but I have no clue as to what you are applying for.”
I replied…”um…my son Noah has autism so I am applying for the Home and Community Based Services Waiver”.
She replied, “I have no clue what that is”.
Are you counting with me? This is the second time that she has uttered the phrase “no clue”.
Well…bless her heart…she was really very kind, so promised me that she would ask around the office and make sure that our application went to the correct person.
The next day, a letter arrived from DCF. It acknowledged receipt of our application, but stated that the application would immediately be denied without our completion of the two enclosed forms.
The first form was a proof of Citizenship. No problem there.
The second form was a Verification of Employment/Loss of Income form.
For Noah to fill out.
Apparently, they are expecting that an eight year old who has autism must certainly be either gainfully employed or recently terminated.
Since I was feeling just a little bit snarky at this point, I decided to wait until the next day to call DCF and inquire as to how to secure proof of employment for Noah.
As it turns out, I didn’t have to call them…because they called me.
This time it was a man calling, and like the lady before him, bless his heart…he was extremely kind.
He informed me that we will not qualify for Medicaid (I wasn’t applying for Medicaid) and that Noah needs to get on a wait list to get on the wait list. (Now there are two wait lists?) He also repeated about 15 times that I should “call 211″ to find out how to get Noah on the…um…”first” wait list.
What I really wanted to do was call 911.
So…I thanked my kind but entirely unhelpful friend from the DCF office and quickly got off of the phone.
Later that afternoon, I went to the post office to check our mail.
The envelope on the top of the pile was addressed to Noah. It was from the DCF.
I opened the envelope, and contained inside was…
a Voter Registration application.
For Noah.
Who is eight years old and has autism.
Okay ya’ll…say it with me…
OH. MY.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Don’t let them take over my healthcare.