The bad news: They weren't going to pay the foster home enough to cover all the things they actually do. This freaked my dad out, as he was convinced that he was going to have to give himself his insulin shots ("I can't work those new needles!") and not get any night-time care ("I need help when my leg hurts! Or when I need the bathroom! I can't get up by myself!").
The good news: The foster care owner contacted Medicaid and seemed pretty confident he could work it out. He arranged for the social worker to come out two days later and clarify the situation.
The bad news: The social worker cancelled. More panic ensued. "It's the damn government! They don't care! You don't cancel, you re-schedule! I can't work those new needles!" etc.
The good news: She showed up two days after that. She seemed nice. Everything will be covered that should be covered.
The bad news: The foster home guy tells my sister he's about out of seven different medications, and all she has to do is show the pharmacy the paperwork, and it will be paid for. Um, what paperwork? We got notice about them paying the foster care rent, but not about medication. More panic. "How am I going to get my medicine?" etc. Despite my sister repeatedly reassuring him that he already has a huge supply of insulin, he also keeps going back to, "Am I out of insulin?!?"
I just started spring break. Since we've already established that calling the medicaid office is useless, I'll be driving over Monday morning to see if we can get this straightened out. In the meantime, the pharmacy