The Joy and Pain of Prescription Renewal

Just checked the calendar and it’s time to start the process. What a process it is! First, it’s time to call the pharmacy.

The dreaded prescription renewal

My pharmacy is controlled by Illinois Medicaid. Yes, state aid. After my husband passed away, I went on Illinois state Medicaid program and since February 2011, it’s been a dread to renew prescriptions. Once the number is dialed and the appropriate numbers are pressed, the attendant comes on to confirm my identity then begins to speak the words that make my heart sink, “Ms. Voss, we need you to contact your physician and we will too, but we no longer have refills for your prescription.” I take it in, thank them politely and state that I will.

Doctor, where art thou?

I look at last month's calendar and realize I forgot to call the doctor ahead of time. There are so many physicians involved when one is diagnosed with psoriasis and psoriatic arthritis that I somehow missed this important date. Lovely. I shoot the doctor a message and explain that it was my bad that I forgot to do this prior to now. I shut the application and go about to my next task of the day. I wonder how long I will have to wait for an answer.

Ding! Message from your physician

30 minutes later I received word that my doctor has answered my message personally. I open the note to find that I need to have a tuberculosis blood test and to set up an appointment. I am then painfully reminded that I was told this in January of this past year and then gently told that I should not make this same mistake again. Once I get my scolding in print, I turn to the website for the local hospital. I find that I have time restrictions on this test and I am supposed to have the test done by noon. Time to check my schedule and when I can squeeze this in: okay, so I have classes for the next two days. I have to take my son to his classes on Wednesday. I can certainly get this in before then.

Blood work? No big deal

My son and I walk into the hospital and are instructed to see the pre-registration desk. A wonderful woman directs me to the lab where I answer a few more questions. It’s a long walk from this end of the hospital and I didn’t really understand what she said. My son who is used to interpreting because of my deafness gets me to where I need to be. Thank goodness my kids don’t tire of that. Ahh, the familiar window in the wall, where I jokingly say to my son "look, vampires!” He chuckles. As I sit there waiting, I feel the aches in my body. My name is called. I go and exchange pleasantries before sitting down. My blood test takes 5 minutes before I am out the door feeling accomplished.

On to the next. What's available?

I received another email that I need additional blood work done with the physician. My dermatologist’s nurse calls and squeezes me in two weeks from now. At this point, it is now nearly 8 weeks without my biologic. Pain is creeping back into my every moment. My backand hips feel it the most. I feel the pain in my hands when I grasp anything. I feel very tired and wonder if I will be able to walk later. My second oldest son is very empathetic. Joshua sees his mom struggling and has lovingly fashioned a wooden cane for me out of a tree branch. I have a rubber can tip and he has even stained it a honey oak. I find that times like this I now need assistance to help me walk and sometimes just to stand still. I am grateful for the cane today. Thinking ahead to the appointment I wonder how much I will need to rely on the cane.

Today is the day

The day has finally arrived. I get to see the dermatologist. I walk into the appointment and answer the normal questions. Height? 4’9 3/4” Weight 200 lbs even. Yep, still short, still fat. Still have psoriasis and still have psoriatic arthritis. We discuss, we move on. I am now sorely reminded that I am the one that missed scheduling this. I understand and take responsibility for my inaction. Doc says I went from 9% coverage on my biologic to now being 30% covered. “Melissa, you seem to be in much more pain now. I have not seen you use an assistive device since I have known you.” At this point, I dare ask, "Could it be the seven weeks I have not had my medication or am I failing?" She looks at me and nods. “I do think part of it is the waiting but the other part could also be a build-up of the antibody to this medication.” She looks like she just delivered news that could break me, but it does not. I knew it would come eventually. My renewal is finally given for four months while she also works on possibly finding a drug to replace it, in case my body does fail it.

Hurry up and wait

When I return home, I call the pharmacy. The attendant answers right away. As she is verifying my information my thoughts return to how much longer will I have to wait to get this medication. The attendant startles me, "Ms. Voss we can ship your medication to you on Saturday." I was surprised. I didn’t know there were Saturday deliveries. I am relieved to hear that the medication is coming. The eight-week struggle is now over. I feel like I can relax, knowing that the struggling has come to an end is very helpful for my anxiety. My thoughts now turned to the idea of the many others who may also be going through this waiting time as well? What do you do in the meantime? Why is this such a process for patients? At this moment I looked up from my workspace and saw that the local congressman will be visiting my college. Now I feel compelled and will do my best to fight for all of us! My journey will begin with the State and the Congressman.