It's been a little over three months since Rico's surgery.
Three months that he's been dealing with the usual bout of crap that one deals with when you have something the size of a cell phone removed millimeters from your femoral artery and nerve.
The one thing that seemed to work for the constant electrical jolts that seize his leg and sometimes the rest of him, is Lyrica.
It's commonly prescribed for fibromyalgia patients, but it also seemed to do Rico a world of good.
But now, he can't get it.
Not like it doesn't exist.
Not like the doctor said, hey we have to wean you (they don't - people use it forever).
The doctor WANTS to give him his Lyrica.
Even with three months left of his prescription, which Blue Cross was paying, the one thing that kept Rico out of pain is being dangled above his head because the insurance company (and I quote) "changed their minds", and would like him to try FOUR other cheaper prescriptions before they will allow him to go back to the one he knows works, the only thing that brings him relief.
Are they gonna stop paying for oxygen until he tries three other reactive gasses?
"We're sorry Mr. H, but here at Blue Cross we're always looking out for the bottom line. You're going to have to use straight carbon monoxide for the next two weeks."
He's laying next to me right now, trying to sleep - but he can't, because somebody at Blue Cross is willing to go through all of the paperwork and red tape to push four other medications on him. It's torturous - truly.
They told him to take some Tylenol in the meantime.
I hope the guys at Blue Cross are tossing and turning as much as Rico is tonight. And I hope when they wake up, they realize they're being @$$holes and "change their minds" back.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad