The Medication Tango
Dec. 6th, 2002 01:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanI'm taking four antihypertensives, most at fairly high doses. They are working, which is not something I could have said three months ago.
Despite having had this condition since January, I am not used to it. Two of the drugs are prescriptions; I get them at the HCMC pharmacy, which apparently will go on handing you drugs and billing you for them forever, regardless of what the Accounting Department thinks. (There may be a limit to their forebearance that I have not reached yet.) I get one month's worth at a time, and they are not, naturally, on the same schedule, since they were prescribed at different times and the dose upped at even more random intervals.
The other two I get free samples of from the Multispeciality Clinic, where I was sent to see a nephrologist so she could do expensive tests and cheerfully inform me that there was nothing wrong with my kidneys whatsoever. I don't mean to be quite that snarky; she also found the drug combination that worked. And it's nice to know that my kidneys are fine. But I didn't need the bills. At all.
I had figured that when the nephrologist sent me back to the Medicine Clinic, I was on my own for medicine. The Multispecialty Clinic had given me a six months' supply of the alpha blocker and a six weeks' supply of the beta blocker, and I had about a week of beta blocker left. I called the Medicine Clinic and left a message for my CNP saying I needed a prescription for this drug. I wanted to make sure the nephrologist had actually called her. One of the nurses called me back, immediately snagged me for an appointment on the 16th (aiiiiieeee, I just know the moment I set foot in that building my blood pressure will go right back up and the whole nightmare will start all over) and said the nephrologist had put a note in my file saying that her clinic had a large supply of what she was pleased to call "this agent," so that "the patient should not have to pay for it."
I called the Multispeciality Clinic, and Linda, the nurse who had been in charge of me, called back and said yep, they had lots, when did I want to come by? That was cheering. I don't know how much this stuff costs, but given that the discount pharmacies on the web don't even carry it (it's an extended-release form; they carry the basic drug all right), it's probably a lot.
I was also about out of the ACE inhibitor, which is one of the prescription drugs, so I called the refill line and got that one lined up for Thursday, the same day I'd told Linda I'd come by.
On Thursday I got up and bolted a banana with the diuretic and the beta blocker, and saw that I'd miscounted the Ace inhibitor pills. I was out today. This is not a tremendously big deal; I'd been off that one when they did the renogram, because they like to give you a different nifty fast-acting version of the same kind of drug for that, and I knew it wouldn't kill me at all to be a few hours late taking it. Besides, I had forgotten not a week earlier to take ANY of the morning medication, and that hadn't killed me either. Not having it made me twitchy all the same. I would like ten years' supply of my medication in a sealed climate-controlled vault, THANK YOU. And mine aren't nearly so critical to survival as a lot of people's.
This story sounds as if it is going to be a comedy of errors any moment, but it isn't. I went to the pharmacy, the prescription was ready, I took my daily dose on the spot, since lisinopril can be taken "without regard to meals." Poor meals, so disregarded. I went over to the Multispeciality Clinic. Instead of handing me a bag, the receptionist said, "Linda will be right with you." For what, I thought. It costs forty dollars for them to take my blood pressure, and anyway it would be weird because I'd walked over from Nicollet and I hadn't taken the lisinopril on time.
Linda came out with a bright purple Nexium bag filled with what turned out to be twelve weeks' worth of my beta blocker, and the news that she really loved my book. I found out while we were sitting around in the hour before the renogram that she was a great reader, and she found out that I was a writer, so at the last appointment I'd brought her a copy of JUNIPER, GENTIAN, AND ROSEMARY. She likes Tom Clancy, so I wasn't sure how it would go over, but she said she loved it, she loved the characters, it was a joy to read. Since I didn't expect to see her at all, this must have been sincere. She's a very blunt person and wouldn't lie to me anyway. So I went off quite happily clutching my purple bag.
I got a bunch of necessary stuff at Target -- it's so cool to have one downtown -- and finally fled because it's so long since I went shopping that I had a mad urge to buy underwear and socks and flannel pajamas and dishpans and saucepans and telescopes.
When I got home there was a postcard from HCMC telling me I needed to schedule a mammogram for January. I just had one last one year. They can forget that. Maybe if they are very, very good I'll have one next year. Maybe.
I think I am perhaps not coping altogether well with having a chronic controllable health problem. I should think about that.
Pamela
Despite having had this condition since January, I am not used to it. Two of the drugs are prescriptions; I get them at the HCMC pharmacy, which apparently will go on handing you drugs and billing you for them forever, regardless of what the Accounting Department thinks. (There may be a limit to their forebearance that I have not reached yet.) I get one month's worth at a time, and they are not, naturally, on the same schedule, since they were prescribed at different times and the dose upped at even more random intervals.
The other two I get free samples of from the Multispeciality Clinic, where I was sent to see a nephrologist so she could do expensive tests and cheerfully inform me that there was nothing wrong with my kidneys whatsoever. I don't mean to be quite that snarky; she also found the drug combination that worked. And it's nice to know that my kidneys are fine. But I didn't need the bills. At all.
I had figured that when the nephrologist sent me back to the Medicine Clinic, I was on my own for medicine. The Multispecialty Clinic had given me a six months' supply of the alpha blocker and a six weeks' supply of the beta blocker, and I had about a week of beta blocker left. I called the Medicine Clinic and left a message for my CNP saying I needed a prescription for this drug. I wanted to make sure the nephrologist had actually called her. One of the nurses called me back, immediately snagged me for an appointment on the 16th (aiiiiieeee, I just know the moment I set foot in that building my blood pressure will go right back up and the whole nightmare will start all over) and said the nephrologist had put a note in my file saying that her clinic had a large supply of what she was pleased to call "this agent," so that "the patient should not have to pay for it."
I called the Multispeciality Clinic, and Linda, the nurse who had been in charge of me, called back and said yep, they had lots, when did I want to come by? That was cheering. I don't know how much this stuff costs, but given that the discount pharmacies on the web don't even carry it (it's an extended-release form; they carry the basic drug all right), it's probably a lot.
I was also about out of the ACE inhibitor, which is one of the prescription drugs, so I called the refill line and got that one lined up for Thursday, the same day I'd told Linda I'd come by.
On Thursday I got up and bolted a banana with the diuretic and the beta blocker, and saw that I'd miscounted the Ace inhibitor pills. I was out today. This is not a tremendously big deal; I'd been off that one when they did the renogram, because they like to give you a different nifty fast-acting version of the same kind of drug for that, and I knew it wouldn't kill me at all to be a few hours late taking it. Besides, I had forgotten not a week earlier to take ANY of the morning medication, and that hadn't killed me either. Not having it made me twitchy all the same. I would like ten years' supply of my medication in a sealed climate-controlled vault, THANK YOU. And mine aren't nearly so critical to survival as a lot of people's.
This story sounds as if it is going to be a comedy of errors any moment, but it isn't. I went to the pharmacy, the prescription was ready, I took my daily dose on the spot, since lisinopril can be taken "without regard to meals." Poor meals, so disregarded. I went over to the Multispeciality Clinic. Instead of handing me a bag, the receptionist said, "Linda will be right with you." For what, I thought. It costs forty dollars for them to take my blood pressure, and anyway it would be weird because I'd walked over from Nicollet and I hadn't taken the lisinopril on time.
Linda came out with a bright purple Nexium bag filled with what turned out to be twelve weeks' worth of my beta blocker, and the news that she really loved my book. I found out while we were sitting around in the hour before the renogram that she was a great reader, and she found out that I was a writer, so at the last appointment I'd brought her a copy of JUNIPER, GENTIAN, AND ROSEMARY. She likes Tom Clancy, so I wasn't sure how it would go over, but she said she loved it, she loved the characters, it was a joy to read. Since I didn't expect to see her at all, this must have been sincere. She's a very blunt person and wouldn't lie to me anyway. So I went off quite happily clutching my purple bag.
I got a bunch of necessary stuff at Target -- it's so cool to have one downtown -- and finally fled because it's so long since I went shopping that I had a mad urge to buy underwear and socks and flannel pajamas and dishpans and saucepans and telescopes.
When I got home there was a postcard from HCMC telling me I needed to schedule a mammogram for January. I just had one last one year. They can forget that. Maybe if they are very, very good I'll have one next year. Maybe.
I think I am perhaps not coping altogether well with having a chronic controllable health problem. I should think about that.
Pamela
