The denial was a gift and a curse. On one hand, I should be thankful that I am not suffering or bedridden 15 days out of every month. That's half of every month spent in pain. On the other hand, I am only a few days shy, so that means I am still spending a good deal of my time in pain but not enough to allow stronger relief methods. Oh woe is fucking me.
The next stop was to my regular pharmacy to refill my prescriptions. I waved hello to the pharmacist that knows me better than some of my own acquaintances. A worried look appeared on the pharmacist's face. The friendly smile was not there. Not even the usual, "How are you?" greeting was spoken. Instead I received a tentative hello and asked if I'd heard from my insurance company yet. "Umm, no. Should I have?" And so follows the dreadful news that my medical insurance provider will no longer cover my migraine meds. But I'm more than welcome to purchase them at retail value of $1,000 or more. (,,-__-,,)
This news alone brought a migraine ON-SITE. I was directed to a chair so that I could sit down and get my bearings. But at that point, I just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and lay in the darkness until I was well enough to call the insurance company in the morning. Surely there has been a mistake.
Another day and couple phone calls later and it was proven to be true. The insurance company needed proof that I've exhausted all other types of treatment before they continue paying for the costly cocktail that I'm now taking. Le sigh. I am not new at this migraine thing. I've been diagnosed for 26 years. I have tried any and everything by now. But to the insurance company, I'm just a name on a manila file with expensive coverage needs.
Fast forward to the present and my doctor and pharmacy worked out an alternative; although, it's not as effective. So I literally cannot afford to get a migraine. It will cost me thousands! I've been told to take it easy so it won't trigger one. This was a serious wake-up call for me to stop multi-tasking so much and slow down. Sit still. Turn my chill meter to the max. I cannot let anything worry or stress me—as if I wasn't already nonchalant enough.
"Taking it easy" is not simple for me. It's as if I'm on cruise control, afraid to accelerate because I will crash. I'm going somewhere nowhere fast. I'll just keep sailing my lil red boat, praying to God he will keep me afloat.
