Before I start, I would really like to recommend that you take a listen to Gabriela Montero. I recently discovered her whilst listening to one of my Pandora stations and her playing made me weep for the beauty and the passion with which she throws herself into her variations and compositions. Gabriela is a wholly remarkable pianist, a child prodigy who has matured into brilliant and nuanced composer. And she is also great stress relief...
I have had a not so grand day today. It started well enough, though not as productively as I might have wished. And I had a fantastic visit with the doctor, where we discussed my meds and how the new regimen has been working out. We decided to double my dose of Wellbutrin, from 100mg in the morning to 100mg in the morning and another at lunch (something I was going to do a couple weeks ago, but chose to wait because he wanted to see me to add the extra dose). I was actually feeling pretty damned good when I left the doctor's office - almost three and I had only smoked two cigarettes all day.
How quickly things can change. Today I discovered just how fragile a thing, this thing that is my calm and collect self.
The fucking war on drugs put me on the verge of a nervous fucking breakdown today. Though I was heading that way when I went to get my scripts filled in the first place.
My fucking Wellbutrin costs eighty-six fucking dollars as a fucking generic. Eighty-six dollars!!! And the version I am taking is not available much cheaper anywhere - including mail order. I very nearly started crying in the fucking store when they told me that. I'm working on getting help with my scripts through the state, but the wheels turn slowly. My folks are helping out some, but that just stresses me out more, because I don't want to be a fucking burden on them at thirty-two years old. I was frustrated and angry and decided to hold off on that one to see if I could find to cheaper elsewhere, or if there might be another option for finding Bupropion for less, but in the same dose as I've been taking.
No such luck, this time around.
So I decide to get it filled and owe my parents even more. Fucking yeah for me!!! I headed back to Wal-Mart and handed the women at the window the script, having completely forgotten that I had been told earlier (when I dropped off the others) that they were out of that one anyways. The women at the window punched it all into the computer and told me it would be about twenty minutes, so I sat down to wait. After about half an hour, the women who had originally taken my scripts came out to remind me that they were out of that particular dosage of Wellbutrin. Mind you, the women who had taken the script had seen me sitting there several times, while helping other fucking customers - never once occurred to her to let me know that I couldn't get my fucking drug. Nor did they consider just fucking calling me to tell me - if they hadn't noticed (they are usually really good about calling for stuff like that and they weren't very busy).
What the fuck does this have to do with the war in drugs, you ask?
I had a check with me, written for the total cost of all three of my scripts. And even though another Wal-Mart has the Welbutrin, I couldn't pay for it at the one I was in. So I had to transfer the other two to the other fucking pharmacy as well. The only problem being that Clonidine and Ritalin are controlled fucking substances and they can't be called in. They can't be faxed over and apparently, they can't even get them ready in anticipation of the fucking paper script being brought in. Nor can they be refilled - every month, my doctor has to write another script for me.
Of course I had wasted nearly half an hour sitting in fucking Wal-Mart before I became aware that I would have to go to another store - about half an hour across town. And not only would I have to run over there to get them, I would have to fucking wait there while they filled my other two scripts - because we have the most ridiculous fucking drug laws ever. Mind you, it was close to dinner time and a friend of mine was joining us. I was about fifteen minutes late when it was all over with. (Though I did get a text from the most beautiful and brilliant women in the world, who just seems to know when a text from her is going to take the edge off of stressful situations - thanks Juniper)
My problems today and with getting more than thirty days worth of my meds at a time, are far from the only egregious intrusion that our draconian drug laws have thrust into medicine. Because of course, there is also the war on pain management to be considered. You know, the war in which not only patients who doctor shop and fraudulently acquire multiple scripts for the same pain killers (often times to sell them) got to jail, but even doctors who appear to be over prescribing and patients who are engaged in a good faith pain management regimen with their (only) prescribing doctor.
I am so fucking tired of this paternalistic fucking bullshit! This has gotten beyond fucking ridiculous - went beyond that point fucking years ago. The war on drugs interferes with the ability of doctors to care for patients, therapists to freely help drug addicts and substance abusers and patients to have reasonably simple and rather less costly access to their medications.
Fuck You drug warriors - Every MotherFucking One of You!!!