Today I would write about something I know little about – please bear with me. It’s the HIPAA law that has me in a snit. Google tells me the purpose is to protect my health information.
Stop protecting me. I have no secrets! I would like this law renamed to what I feel it is: “The I Don’t Care” law.
But darn it, I do care!
I live at The Pointe at Morris, a Supportive Living Facility housing about 70 people for whom it will be the last stop in our life’s journey. Quite a nice place!
We have left our friends and relatives and look forward to their visits. And we have become friends with some here. Then we can’t locate our friend. We are worried because we care, and no answers are given. They can’t be given because of the HIPAA law. The speculation is they fell (the thing most feared here) and taken to the hospital.
After a while, we think maybe she is in the attached facility (rehab/nursing home), and we go over there, rollators, wheelchairs and all, to read the names on the doors. We found three of ours last week. Yesterday through a whisper we heard one of them had passed away. Secret!
I told my daughter, Denise, that if anything happens to me here, put it on the bulletin board. They are good people and I will want them to know their friendship was appreciated.
We have to be watchful of many things. But there were many papers required to be signed to come here, so add one more that says I don’t object to my friends being told about my whereabouts.
What started this? I had told my breakfast friends that if I ever don’t appear for breakfast (my favorite meal), they should come bang my door down. Recently, Jean didn’t appear. No info. She now has returned, one of the fortunate ones – banged up but nothing broken in a fall. Love ya, Jean.