Battle Lost

After a two-week fight with my doctor, insurance company, and pharmacist, I am relieved to share that the battle is over.

Had to go full-on bitch mode over the last two weeks. I really hate doing that.

And... I lost. I'm just tired of fighting. I don't know who to be mad at today, though. My doctor for not helping me achieve a more immediate resolution and not having my back with my insurance company? Or my insurance company, who somehow gets a say in which drugs I get to take because they don't want to pay for the good stuff?

No. I should be mad at the drug company. How is it they get to advertise directly to me that they have the "solution"? Shouldn't my doctor be the one to tell me what to take based on my symptoms? And why is the drug company allowed to charge $325 per month for said "solution"? It's not like I have an EpiPen level condition here, but it still seems unfair that I have to choose between going bankrupt or prolonging my suffering.

I can't really afford $325 per month, but I also now know after all these years that I can't solve my eating disorder without support. So I went with the doctor-suggested alternative, which is a combination of an anti-seizure medication (last I checked, I didn't have epilepsy, so this makes sense) and an antidepressant, for a grand total of $35 per month out of my pocket. This cocktail comes with a long list of possible side effects (I must apologize in advance if you notice any changes in the quality of my writing over the next month) and a small probability of actually solving my problem. Also, no more Friday night glass of wine, especially if I want to maintain my Saturday morning long run schedule.

But I'll interject some optimism here. Maybe this will help me finally break a shitty habit and form brand new ones so that by the time The Last Jedi comes out in December, I'll be able to quit the meds and will be well on my way to sub-2 half marathon land for the Princess Run in February.