I admit it: I’m an idiot.
Here’s what happened:
I was on samples of a medicine that worked great for my anxiety. Then the doctor prescribed the full strength dose…. and the pharmacy didn’t fill it. And they didn’t fill it. And they didn’t fill it.
I asked why I didn’t have the med yet. Their answer? My insurance required a prior authorization from the doctor. Okay, cool. He’ll fill it out and it’ll be approved and I’ll get my medicine.
Nope. The initial prior authorization was denied. So the doctor was going to write a letter of appeal to the insurance company. In the meantime, his receptionist said I could pick up two weeks of samples again.
But my tricksy mind got to me. It said, “Well, what if the appeal doesn’t work? Then what do you do? You can’t have samples forever; they’ll run out, and you’ll be back to square one.” And stupid me listened to my brain and didn’t pick up the samples.
This was last week (I had been off the medicine, which has a 72-hour half life, since April 3), and this week started off terrible at work. The office was super busy, someone had called out, and my stress levels were through the roof.
Yesterday morning I woke up stressed. I was anxious about getting to the doctor to get those new samples , because maybe two weeks of sanity is better than nothing. That, and I wanted to cut. Like, REALLY wanted to. I didn’t, but the urge was there.
I tried stopping by the doctor’s office on the way to work, but they were closed. I tried calling, thinking maybe I could leave a message. The longer I went without hearing from him, the worse I felt.
I texted my boss and asked if someone could cover the one afternoon patient while I went to Urgent Care (which is what the doctor’s recorded message says to do if you don’t hear from him). I didn’t want to go to Urgent Care, but I knew I needed to do something or else I was going to go over the edge.
Why was I afraid of going to Urgent Care? Because I had convinced myself that if I go to Urgent Care for any kind of mental health issue, I’ll be committed. No passing go, no collecting $200. That is a tremendous fear of mine, and for most of the morning I felt the weight of that fear crushing me.
After a hectic morning (or maybe it wasn’t really hectic–maybe that was just my skewed perception) of working and playing phone tag with the doctor’s receptionist, I finally got my new samples. Full dose, two weeks’ worth.
I took one as soon as I got it, but alas, they’re not instant acting pills. I felt relief at not having to go to Urgent Care, but I still felt wrong.
I was still a little scared. I was still not thinking clearly. All I could think about was how close I might have come to ending up in a psych ward.
It’s a little better now. I don’t feel like I’m going to lose my shit at the moment.
Tomorrow will be a long day. My goal is to survive it and make it to the next day.
It’s pretty sad when you view survival as a goal, not a given.