And I have to be honest: it’s far better than I probably deserve.
I was invited to join everyone at a St Patrick’s Day party, yesterday, at a residential aged care home I now intend to go to. The woman who administers the whole place has a modus operandi that sees those like me – i.e., future residents – or people taking respite there who are likely to want permanent residence in the future brought slowly into the environment.
I think this to be fucking inspired: if it transpires that you’re not comfortable, that you’re not in favour of staff attitude, that you don’t feel madly enthusiastic about the environment — if there’s anything, in other words, that puts you off … well, you can pull your application and toddle away before a place becomes vacant and you’re offered it.
And if you like it, you go on accepting their invites to various gatherings and building up your knowledge of the place; so that when that offer is made, you’re almost a resident already.
(Note: I am a sudden convert to the less is more aspect of punctuation; I mean to stop using exclamation marks whenever possible.)
The home has wonderful gardens – not huge, rambling ones, but set about with large pergolas with vines that look like wisteria (but what would I know ?!) and many tables and chairs dotted here and there for sitting and admiring, or sitting and morning coffeeing, or sitting and crocheting … It has a little coffee shop that was open between 1 and 5: I don’t yet know if that’s the norm, but it makes sense. It isn’t that I’ll be able to frequent it, though, because I’ll be almost penniless.
Which is a good segue into the finances of any residential aged care home that accepts government-subsidized places. The fee structure begins at $65.55 per day and goes up depending on one’s means. As mine consist of the age pension and a small monthly family stipend, my fee has been set – having been grilled exhaustively by Services Australia – at the very bottom. Like, for everything – my room that comes with wet floor ensuite, their cleaning, my meals, my laundry and full involvement in everything that happens there. All very well and good; but we are talking of a mother with a 4-legged child, here – one who needs feeding with possibly the most expensive wet and dry foods on the market, with definitely the most expensive cat-litter (but oh, how brilliant is that stuff ?!), and with frequent need of having its teeny talons clipped to avoid extensive blood-loss on the part of me, said mother. Boodie is a very real expense.
OK … so $65.55 a day multiplies out to $920.22 a fortnight: pretty bloody good for what I shall be getting !
(That one was necessary.)
However, the pension — oh, and btw: all figures here will have changed upwards by the time I move in, as we’re in March and that and September are the two times all pension figures are adjusted — is $1,394.10 a fortnight LESS rent assistance of $215.40 = $1,178.70, leaving me $258.48 to spend every two weeks. Happily, the family stipend brings in $230.77 each fortnight, so I shall be flinging money about like a woman with no hands once my income is established at $489.25. That’s for Boodie; for all public transport, for my coffee beans/milk (yes, I’ll certainly be taking my Breville Barista Express with me) and probably bikkies for visitors; for pharmacy purchases; for all clothes and footwear. Hmmm. Doubt I’ll be having my nails done again. 🙁
None of this is a whinge – NONE. I am blessed. I am treated extremely well by The System (as are all ancient Aussies) and I appreciate it. Now I’ve found a place where I shall be happy to go to, with an administrator I admire and staff who are delightful. There remains only the one impediment to be bypassed ,,,
I have been independent for the last 20 years.
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