J and C and Me

Yeah. Basically, here has how my day has gone.

First thing this morning I call my doctor. I tried to refill my lexapro yesterday and my insurance wouldn’t let me as my dr hasn’t increased my dosage and it has only been 19 days. So call the dr to get that fixed.

Rite-Aid calls. They have my new rx, but the insurance won’t fill it. My insurance requires that we switch to mail order after an rx has been filled twice. Since I had a new (difference dosage) rx, I didn’t think that applies. Apparently, it does. Very nice Rite-Aid pharmacist offers to call my insurance, talk some sense into them, and to call me back.

Vet calls. Bree is out of surgery (again) doing well, and ready to be picked up between 3:00 and 4:30.

Oh yeah…did I mention that I took the last of my Lexapro last night? And that you’re not supposed to just stop taking it? Bad things will happen. Says so all over the bottle.

So then, the nice Rite-Aid girl calls back. Says my insurance would barely even speak to her. She gives me a number to call and speak with them myself and tells me that I have the option to just pay for it, and that they will dispense it week at a time if I need it. The cost? Oh, just $60 a week. Yeah, we paid bills this morning. We’re broke. Or pretty close.

Call the insurance. Nothing they can do. I can sign up for mail order, it will be two weeks. Doesn’t matter that the dosage is different. I cave and sign up for the mail order thing, even though the dosage will not be correct and we will have another problem in a few months. At least it gives me time.

Oh, and I have no clue what this is costing us. They ask (online) for payment info, but never tell you what they are charging you. And on the little quote section, they say they can not provide a quote for my Lexapro dosage. Did I mention we were close to broke?

I call my doctor and leave as calm of a message as possible explaining the whole situation and asking if they have any samples that could get me through until the mail order arrives. I wait to hear back from them.

And wait.

and wait.

but really, the whole time I’m waiting I’m fighting with Celia to try and get her to take a nap. She wins.

Jordan gets home from school. It’s time to leave and get the cat. I decide to drag both of my kids to my doctors and beg for drugs like some street addict.

It works. A very nice lady gives me a few weeks worth of samples. I restrain myself from kissing her…but do tell her I love her.

Then on to the vet’s to give them the last of the money we don’t have. We go back in the little exam room to pick up our cat and Dr. S explains to me the very difficult dosages of her two different medications. Then, he explains (trying unsuccessfully to not smirk) that she’s wearing purple pants.  (Oh yeah, did I mention that my vet is a former WVU Mountaineer?  Yeah, he is.  Still looks the part too.  How cool it that?)

That’s right. MY CAT IS WEARING PURPLE PANTS.

He brings her out. She hops right in the carrier. Really, hops. Like a bunny. She doesn’t like wearing pants. I agree to bring her back saturday morning so that he can pour more sugar into her belly and put new pants on her.

We come home and she hops on out of the carrier, right down the steps and into the litter box. Apparently she doesn’t like public restrooms either. (FYI, because I know you are wondering….they aren’t really pants. It’s more like a cast or bandage wrap for her legs and belly. She can use the litter box just fine.)

Celia proceeds to make cat soup out of the cat food and water, smearing it all over the floor. The cat hops back up the steps (she’s feeling quite fine) and licks mush off the floor.

*sigh* It’s been a long day for everyone.