Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Bad Mommy Stuff Part II

My oldest is just like me, sensitive, imaginative, free-spirited and oblivious to what the rest of the herd is up to. I ache sometimes knowing how alike we are. Yesterday as I made his breakfast, he came downstairs, hugged me around the waist and said, "I just love you so much, Mom." Out of the blue. I hugged him back and replied into his hair, "I love you so much, buddy. I'm so proud of you." He said, "I love you more than you'll ever love me." I began to cry, squeezing that kid around his bare shoulders while my mind reeled.

I honestly don't think I ever felt this way about my own mother. The story is too long for a single posting and I'm still optioning the rights to Jerry Springer, but I tell the truth when I say when I was 8 (Mr. T's age) I remember wishing she would die or I could run away and live with another family. The fact that I felt that at such a young age breaks my heart. The idea that my son could possibly love me so much more than I ever loved my mother breaks my heart even more because I'm simply not worthy. Like the rest of you moms out there, I'm just doing my best and praying the boys turn out to be decent men. That they'd like me is a bonus. That they'd love me is unfathomable. I don't expect it back, not because I don't love them with every fiber of my being, because I do, but I never felt this way about my own mother. The idea explodes my cranium.

Meanwhile, the lab results from the last blood draw came back and his med. levels are within a therapeutic range. He sees his doctor Jan. 2 and has to have an EEG done beforehand, which we'll hopefully accomplish over Christmas break since he has to be sleep-deprived for said test and will miss a day of school. And we can switch to a pill form of his meds, an extended release tablet that he'll have to take once a day instead of a liquid dose three times a day that wears off and is inconvenient to use. Great, right?

Until I arrived at the pharmacy to discover this wonderful new form of medication will cost us $210 every 30 days. Excuse me?
Yes, ma'am, $210.
Did insurance cover any of this?
Yes, they covered $80.00.
Is there a generic version we might get?
No, the drug company just renewed the patent because they "tweaked" the medication so there will be no generic version available for at least 3 years--that is unless the drug company "retweaks" to renew their patent rights.
Ummmmm, I spent $160 on a week and a half's worth of groceries. You're saying my pharmacy bill will cost more than 10 days' worth of groceries?
That's right, ma'am.

Bile rose in my throat and I felt faint. I drove away with my groceries and children in a state of mild shock. For perspective, the liquid, generic form of our seizure control medication costs $15.00 each month. Hence my consternation.

I've got a call in to the doctor's office, asking if there's any other option. Meanwhile, I feel positively ill when I think about the cost of this medication. And I feel angry for those people without ANY insurance who need medications even more than we do--and probably can't afford them without serious compromises. I try to wrap my brain around the whole issue--the cost of health care, the cost of insurance, the amount the doctor makes, the amount the drug companies pocket, how the hell Canada is able to pull off a socialist plan for their people.

Coming soon: The doctor's verdict and our decision to go with pills or stick with banana-flavored liquid medication.

1 comment:

  1. This entry shouldn't be labeled "Bad Mommy Stuff..." It should be labeled "How the insurance companies are messing with my son's health."

    Insurance makes me crazy. Like, when we had to get permission to have our daughter's tonsils removed so that she wouldn't continue to have strep every month.

    Or how the insurance company refused to cover our other daughter's occupational therapy, which three professionals certified were necessary.

    Like I said, it makes me crazy.


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