Thank you Mr. Vonnegut for coining a simple phrase that connotes a frustrating and inescapable circle of circumstances that make you consider going on a rampage.
I take two medications that have recently been deemed "special" (make that expensive). I received a letter announcing this two weeks ago. I called to set up the new system. Monday I got a robot call from CuraScripts saying everything was set up but they were awaiting another piece of information. I didn't call back the number given because I was having my Vidaza shot. Tuesday I got another robot call but was able to call back. A human told me that they were still waiting for the doctor's prescription so they could send me the meds. I called my doctor, and yes, they had received the rx request Monday and faxed it back right away. I called CuraScripts again and they said to call back later because perhaps it wasn't scanned into the system yet.
The problem is, I'm about to run out of an immune suppressant drug which I wouldn't want to do for obvious reasons. I called my local pharmacy and they said they couldn't fill it because the insurance company wouldn't pay for it. Had I looked in the mirror right then, I'm sure I resembled Munch's "The Scream." The pharmacy suggested I call my insurance company, which I did. After explaining the problem to two representatives, I was granted a one-time dispensation to get the drug at my local pharmacy. Hallelujah.
Talk about jumping through hoops. I'm awaiting reimbursement from the insurance company on claims I submitted in October. Both came back with "problems." I wonder how much profit the insurance companies make from members who just give up. It's only because I'm relentless and healthy enough to pursue these battles. Don't I have enough battles to fight?
And so it goes.
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Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
Tale of a Cord Blood Transplantee Who Relapses and Goes on to Have a Matched Unrelated-Donor Transplant
The Weight
Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
ABOUT ME
In March 2006, I was diagnosed with a blood cancer called Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML). Life as I knew it came to a crashing halt. After enduring a month in the hospital where I received intense chemotherapy, I was declared "in remission." I had three additional treatments and remained cancer-free until May 2007, when I relapsed.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
1 comment:
Glad you figured it out. I had a similar problem getting a prescription and finally said to the pharmacist who had nothing to do with the problem, "Fine, then I just won't take it." I did have to take it and then went through the same hoops you did and wondered the same thing about people who don't have the where-with-all to see it through.
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