So I am on painkillers. This sort of happens when you have a chronic pain disorder.
I have to work for these painkillers. The medical industry is trying to crack down on junkies and traffickers getting ahold of these oh-so-sought-after pills. (I would gladly do without 'em if I could, personally.) No doctor wants to be the one caught up in a story as a supplier to someone who then used those drugs in some sort of illicit manner.
My old rheumatologist was Dr. Silver in Beverly Hills. His office watched me grow up. My mother went to his office partner for her specialist visits and as a single mother, she scheduled the appointments when she could take me along (it was a four hour drive—the rheumatologists in the area were seriously that behind on the times, it was worth every minute of that painful drive). He was a great doctor all around, without doubt the best I've ever been to (and I've been to plenty). He trusted me. The one time he had to bring me into his office to be able to renew my prescription, he made it clear to me (as I stuttered that I was only averaging one a day and that should hopefully go down soon and...) that he already knew I was using them responsibly and he had zero worries about me, he just had auditors on his back and had to comply with policy. Which was fine with me.
I've found the same policy now that I've moved a country away from Dr. Silver and that's fine with me. It was frustrating the first time I was refused a refill with zero notice and had to rush into the doctor's office if I wanted to be able to make it to work later that week, but I understood the impetus behind the policy.
Well, that office visit was two months ago, and I was promised that I would only need to be seen for this purpose every six months. But just today I called to check on the status of my refill—I'm down to three pills—and the pharmacy informed me that the doctor's office refused it because I needed to be seen. No further instruction.
ARGH!
This might not be so bad if I didn't have to be in contact with my doctor for damn near every prescription refill I ask for! I take five prescription medications and they all need to be refilled once a month (or thereabouts, as with the as-neededs like hydrocodone and cyclobenzaprine). Something always comes up. I have been fighting constantly with my insurance and my doctor's office ever since I became eligible for Medicare this February.
They refused my anti-anxiety medication—the medication that damn near cures my anxiety, which has caused me to become something of a hermit multiple times in my life, and which has zero side effects—because it was too new and expensive, and insisted on trying me on a couple cheaper pills first. Not only did they not work but I got to deal with boat-rocking nausea on the first and a bland depression on the second. Over the course of four or five months I was calling into the doctor's office and the insurance company constantly trying to get things sorted out.
And that's one thing you learn when you're sick. Those people? Aren't going to sort it out for you. It's a constant struggle, a constant fight. If they make a mistake they're not going to inform you of it and try to fix it, they're just going to drop the ball. And if you don't push them to do it (sometime this year, please?) they're going to drop the ball.
I am a pain in the ass to my doctor's office, I'm sure, but I sure as fuck don't want to be. I would be SO happy to be able to leave these ladies the hell alone. But I can't. Because unless I want to sit on my ass in pain for a month before they get around to writing up that letter to the insurance company, or that referral to the specialist, or faxing my refill request back to the pharmacy so I can get the medication I was already approved for, I'm going to have to call them and ask them to do it.
I ask. Politely. Always. The receptionists and nurses and other office staff snap back at me 90% of the time. I know their jobs are stressful. But damn. I am not calling in just to make your day a little bit harder. I'm calling because I have a migraine coming on and I need the painkillers before it comes full blast because then I won't be able to drive the mile to the pharmacy to pick them up and guess what, it doesn't just go away without those painkillers. I'm calling because I've been off my anti-anxiety medication for three months and I'm shaking and always fighting the impulse to bury myself in a corner and I can hardly bring myself to read my email spam because it's too much interaction for me to handle, and I really want to get back on my old one that worked now PLEASE, and to do so I need you guys to get your paperwork done.
I give them time. I can't solve the current dilemma until tomorrow morning because I waited until after business hours today, Monday, to call my pharmacy to give the doctor's office plenty of time to handle the refill request I put in last Friday. I always give them several days after they told me it would be done before calling and reminding them to take care of this paperwork or that.
I am not pushy. I am not rude. I do not ask them to fly to the moon for me. I ask them to do their job, because my quality of life depends on it.
I am tired of this dance. Tired of it. I had a bit of an angry strain in my voice when I explained the situation to my husband after hanging up with the pharmacy. He got defensive and asked me why I was getting all angry, it's no big deal. No fucking big deal? He is normally very sweet and understanding. But he can't understand everything. No one can, until they've started dealing with it themselves. And then they get very sick of it very fast.
I'm just so tired. Why can't I just get my damn prescriptions refilled on time? When I give them plenty of time? I need these medications. They're two pain medications (Lyrica, which according to a biologist friend of mine does not work on people who do not have neuropathic pain so thank you I am not making it all up, and the hydrocodone), a muscle relaxant, birth control and my anti-anxiety. I do need them, believe it or not. My getting out of bed in the morning, and hopefully doing something other than sitting on my ass all day, depends on it. It would be nice if I did not have to do the telephone-go-round every time I sent in a refill request, walked in two days later expecting it to be refilled and found out the insurance company is stalling or refused it or my doctor needs to see me or or or or or. Damn ors. I wish they would leave me alone.
