Believe it or not, this is not going to be a political post. I do promise that one of these days I will write a post that's happier in nature, but something happened in the past week that I'm sure is not uncommon, but it is wrong.
We all know our healthcare system is broken and it's been broken for a long time. I don't care who is at fault, it doesn't matter. I'm just here to tell a story about how this broken system has affected me.
A couple of weeks ago I ran out of one of the medications I take for depression. I called the doctor, who had often given me samples, and the receptionist said it would probably be faster to call it in as a prescription. Now, the reason that I had been getting samples was because it was a newer drug and insurance companies weren't covering it yet when I started taking it (5 years ago). I waited for a text from the pharmacy to tell me my prescription was ready. Side note, when I called the doctor, I had been out of my meds for a day. Yes, that part is my fault. Anyway, I never got the text. I kept waiting but didn't get a notification, but the online account said it had been filled, so I headed over to CVS. The tech told me that the insurance had denied the request because they wanted me to try another drug first. They gave a list of acceptable drugs to try first.
Here's why this filled me with rage: I was never notified that this was on hold, or why, and I guarantee that the person that denied the claim was not a medical professional, but simply doing what the computer told him/her to do. How do I know this? I was already on one of the medications listed! No one from the insurance company checked to see what they were already paying for! This meant that the pharmacy would have to contact my doctor the next day and send paperwork which, obviously, wouldn't resolve the issue until the next week. At this point, I've been out of my medication for a week and a half.
Then came Saturday. I was crabby, and then I was cranky, and then I was just plain angry at little things Elijah was doing. I went upstairs because I had just screamed at him for something so minute that I wouldn't usually even get mad about it. Once upstairs, I started crying and I couldn't stop. I am not a cryer. I might cry at a movie or a song, but very rarely do I just break down for a 20-minute sob fest, which is what happened. Then it dawned on me what was happening - withdrawal.
The next day I didn't feel great, but I left to do my normal Sunday things because I knew I should. Monday, I couldn't get out of bed. I was exhausted and constantly crying and wanted nothing to do with existing in the outside world. I wanted to curl up with my cats and stay in my house.
On Tuesday, I finally got my medication. Tuesday wasn't as bad as Monday, but now I was filled with anxiety over all the things I didn't get done over the weekend. I hadn't done lesson plans, or the practice recordings I had promised students.
So to recap - I ran out of medication, was told I couldn't have anymore (despite having been on it for 5 years) because I should try something else first (something I was already on, not had already tried, but was currently on) and then was unable to function because of literal paperwork. I don't have any solutions but, guess what? That's not my job. Someone needs to do better and someone needs to stop letting people put money above peoples' lives.
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