MOTH.ER.FUCK.ER.TWO.POINT.TOO

[Edited to add: it was an error with the nurse who called it in to the pharmacy. They are remedying the situation now. Still, my righteous anger applies to other incidents in the past and, no doubt, in the future. This doctor is still not in the clear yet.]

Just once I would like to have one month without medical drama. No new family illness, no mysterious blood sugar episodes, no bizarre side effects, no prescription refill fuck ups.

Especially no prescription refill fuck ups.

You may not remember, but christ I sure fucking do, why I broke up with my former doctor. When I interviewed for my new doctor, I discussed the whole pain medication history: how I had been on the same doseages for 5 years, how well it has worked for me, how I just needed someone downtown to be my primary care doc so I could continue what was obviously a solid, time-tested pain management regimen. She agreed that I seemed stable and was clearly not a drug addict looking for a patsy to feed her habit. We agreed that I would come in once it came time for my prescription to be filled.

I saw her on Monday and brought in the bottle of my last refill. She made a note in my file and asked if I wanted the refill in hand or just faxed to the pharmacy.

(For future reference: ALWAYS GET THE SCRIP IN HAND.)

I got a call yesterday, saying the refill was ready. I took the bus that went by my pharmacy and picked it up. I didn't bother to check anything. Then I got home and noticed the much smaller bottle than usual.

She shorted me 10 days' worth of pills. And made the pharmacist note specially that I was to "make this last the full 30 days."

OK, maybe it was just a mistake. Still? FUCKING BITCH. I can't help but think this was deliberate, that somehow she thinks that maybe I'm exaggerating just a bit and I really only need six a day, rather than the eight I've been on for 5 motherfucking years. Even if it is a mistake, there'll be 50 million hoops to jump through to get the rest and I'll have to pay full price because the insurance won't pay for it.

Once again, I can't sleep because I've gotten myself all hepped up. It's just so frustrating. I feel like I am constantly having to prove to every doctor I see that I really am in pain and that I really do need this medication. For as much as I joke about how great Vicodin is and how I'm such an addict, this is a real medication for me, like Wellbutrin or Levoxyl or Insulin, and I need it to live my life.

This doctor has known me for all of 1.5 hours. I've known this pain for 20 years. If she gives me shit, I swear I will tell her that I'm not seeing her for her medical expertise. I have other, better doctors for that. She is my means to an end. She is the cheapest way to get the medicine I need.

This pain isn't something that's all in my head. And I've been through enough that I shouldn't have to wait for hours on hold, to beg and plead and justify to some judgmental nurse with no knowledge of my background just so I can talk to the doctor and squeeze out of her a prescription for something that is legitimate and necessary. It's demeaning and embarrassing.

You know, my therapist says that a large part of my depression is fed by my insomnia. I would literally feel better if only I didn't have to deal with all this shit. I swear these doctors will be the death of me.

Night fever

Once again, I find myself up at nearly three in the morning, unable to sleep. It seems like it's always the same: I head off to bed between 11:00 PM and midnight, lay awake for two or three hours, then finally get up to waste another hour before heading back to bed and trying again.

I used to think I knew why I couldn't sleep, but after trying various combinations of drugs (2 of these kind, none of those, let's treble this one and halve the other, etc.) I'm left baffled and irritated.

And sleepy, but only at times where I don't want to be sleepy: at work, on the bus, in a planetarium.

[We interrupt this blog post to point out that the picture above is of the caption I added to the existing Shag cat tattoo on my left arm. I got it on New Year's day with Sisters J and K. Well, K was just a spectator, as were my niece and brother in law, but it was nice to have an outing with all my sisters-- it's been a very long time since we've been able to do that.]

I realize that posts about sleep deprivation aren't very exciting unless they are being written after many days of no sleep at all, so I'll recap how things have been during this holiday period:

Xmas: We were snowed in all week, so we didn't make the trip to the Bay Area. While I was bummed that I missed some of the family functions, I wasn't so upset about missing out on the airport experience. Flying during the holiday season is a pain in the ass no matter what the weather, but maneuvering through an airport flush with stranded passengers is not my idea of a merry xmas.

New Year's: I am well beyond the age where New Year's Eve means bushels of drink and dancing in a venue packed with drunks and dancers. The last time we went anywhere public for the changing of the years was the big '99 - '00 deathwatch down at Pioneer Courthouse Square. Once we found out the party would not be ringing in the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and the Camel of ATM Failure, we headed home for microwave mac & cheese and bed after that. Anyway, this year we went to K's and played board games. It was really fun.

But the husband and I forgot to kiss at the stroke of midnight, so I'm not sure how that bodes for this new year.

Belated family xmas on 1/2/2009: After going out with the sisters for a quick tattoo, as mentioned above, we met again the next day to open all the presents from xmas that we missed while being marooned in the house the week previous. Because my birthday is just three weeks after xmas, I had more presents mixed in, to the point of embarrassment, really. I had six or seven more presents for everyone else, which made me feel like a gift glutton surrounded by piles of empty boxes and mountains of ripped wrappings. Counting the xmas gifts alone, we received far more than we gave. I really do feel like a cheap bastard who gamed the system of xmas gift giving.

Still though: we made out like bandits, although not on New Year's where one expects to make out.

Thanks, sisters. Thisters.