“Who am I? Where did you find me?” These are questions I often get posed in the morning when my grandmother is coming out of her room in the morning. Her tone is never accusatory. She almost sounds curious about it and strangely not worried. I assume similar to how an alcoholic must accept the fate of coming to in random locations, she must be doing the same….But no. That can’t be the case because she doesn’t have the higher brain function (forgive me) to have a complex emotion like acceptance of fate.
The most important thing to do is calmly give her correct information. The calmly part is what can be the sticker. As someone with a mood and personality disorder I don’t do that well so my mettle has truly been tested in this scenario long term.
After a few hours and a few cups of coffee she will generally forget she doesn’t know where she is as odd as that sounds. These few initial hours are trippy though. You can tell her anything and it would pass. It is critical to be there first thing in the morning. Lucky I have become an early riser on these meds.
Speaking of medication, Walgreens either didn’t give me my Cymbalta or I somehow misplaced the entire bottle when transferring them over to my drawer from the bag. I have an entire dresser drawer for pill containers. It seems rightly impossible they vanished from bag to drawer. A whole 2 feet from opening. Walgreens claims they gave them to me. Cymbalta is an SSNRI. That is a heavy hitting antidepressant also used for pain management. It has nasty withdrawal side effects so you can imagine I would like to not experience them. Due to my mistrust of the medical system I have an emergency 12 day supply tucked away. It’s the wrong dose and on the verge of expiring, but hey – that’s life. It took two voicemails to get a hold of my doctor.
“I can submit the script but I can’t make insurance pay for it.” The words stung. “Can you lower the dose? Make it out to be a medication change?” She stammered and hemmed and hawwed for a moment before agreeing to do it. I explained that once again I had entered into my nightmare scenario of being on medication and this is breeding my distrust further of the medical system. How do I continue to stay on these medications when all it takes is one simple snafu and my life comes crumbling down? If it weren’t for these emergency pills I would be a writhing mess right now; Possibly worse.
I hate healthcare. I hate our medical system and most of all I hate insurance companies.