My father is now ancient. When he walks, he shuffles his feet a couple of inches at a time and hobbles from handhold to handhold. When he comes to a step, he stops, deliberates, grabs the handrail and carefully places a foot on the step. If he leaves the house, he takes a cane or a walker and needs a companion to keep him steady on his feet. If he has to travel more than 20 feet, we take a wheelchair. We are all anxious that he does not lose his balance and fall. We do not undertake trips outside the house on a whim!

So when a home health nurse suggested having a physical therapist come to the house and work with my father to improve his balance, we thought it was a good idea.

A few days later, I went to my parents’ house to pick up the weekly grocery list. I was surprised to find that they weren’t home. However, my mother had left the list on the dining room table, so I picked it up, returned home and ordered their groceries.

Later I asked my mom where they had gone. She had taken my father to the doctor. In order to get the home physical therapy visits paid for, he had to be examined, in person, by his doctor who would then certify that he needed medical care in his own home because it was too difficult for him to travel to the therapist.