Monday, October 14, 2013

a sad way to go

If I am found mugged and unconscious in a seedy back alley, know that my doctor, insurance and pharmacy are to be blamed.

They drove me to drink.

It all started a month ago when it became clear that I could no longer take Copaxone.  I called my doctor and started the process of applying to take Tecfidera.  After the paperwork was completed, my doctor assured me that it would take about one week, two weeks tops before the medicine arrived.

Now 38 days later, I still do not have my medicine.

I have made multiple phone calls, trying to expedite (ha) the process.

I call the pharmacy.  They say, "It's not us, it's your doctor."  I call my doctor, they say, "It's not us, it's your insurance."  I call the insurance, they say, "It's not us, it's the pharmacy." Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I'm starting to feel desperate and perhaps, alarmingly angry.

I hate this process.

Let me clear this up with a list of other things that I hate to do:
#1- Slowly drive a rusty nail through my eye.
#2-Put a pulsing hornet's nest in my underwear.
#3-Swim with eels, play with sharks, and kiss an alligator.

Yet, I would do all these things together while riding a unicycle blindfolded* before I would willingly get on the phone again and deal with my doctor, insurance, and pharmacy.

I suppose I am going to have to talk to them again, 'cause yep, still no medicine, so the only logical next step is a drink of something hearty.

And yes, I'm not a drinker, and have never even had a sip** of something alcoholic, but these people are doing to drive me to drink.

I will go to the big city. I will look for a friendly guy staggering around holding a bottle in a brown paper bag. I will ask to join his tea party and probably before the liquid passes my lips I will pass out just from the smell, seeing how I'm not an actual drinker.  Then the guy will mug me and drag me to a dark alley to hide the evidence.

Where I will be found by a policeman and after he wakes me up, I will groggily gasp, "They made me do it."






*ok, fine. I'm exaggerating.
**I did once, unknowingly, enthusiastically (I was pregnant) eat cake that was soaked in liqueur. (I loved it.)




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