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Navigating the Healthcare Maze

A Patient’s Perspective on Medication Refills and Advocacy

As someone living with chronic conditions, I’ve learned that managing medications can be as challenging as managing the illnesses themselves. We trust healthcare providers and pharmacies to support us in maintaining our health and well-being, but when systems break down, the consequences can be painful, frustrating, and even dangerous. Recently, I experienced a frustrating series of events that highlight the need for better patient advocacy and streamlined processes in our healthcare system.

It started with a simple refill request for a medication I’ve been taking for years. What should have been routine turned into a week-long ordeal of pharmacy stock issues, doctor unavailability, and communication breakdowns. I found myself caught between pharmacies and medical offices, desperately trying to avoid withdrawal symptoms while also dealing with an unrelated infection.

I ordered a necessary medication refill on a Tuesday, as part of my routine care plan. I do it regularly every month. By Friday, (note they’d had it 3-4 days at this point, I didnt run out of meds UNTIL Friday) I went to pick it up, only to find that the pharmacy was out of stock. I was told to speak to the pharmacist if the medication was urgent, so I did. However, I was then told that in order to fill the prescription at another pharmacy, I would need a new script from my doctor. But my doctor historically wasn’t available on Fridays.

That weekend, I became unwell. I went to urgent care, where I was diagnosed with an unrelated infection. But alongside my infection, I experienced symptoms of withdrawal—symptoms caused by the missing medication. I immediately sent my doctor a message explaining what had happened and the withdrawal symptoms I was experiencing. I have been under her care since 2017, and she had approved my prescription months ago. There was nothing new or unusual about this situation—this was the same medication I had been prescribed and that I had ordered on Tuesday.

Despite this, my doctor’s office was silent. I continued to feel the effects of withdrawal, unable to eat properly or function without pain. It wasn’t until Tuesday that I finally reached out to the office, explained the situation, and asked for guidance. After some persistence, the office confirmed that they would cancel the Walgreens order and send the prescription to Walmart instead.

But still, nothing happened. By Wednesday afternoon, I received a vague message that gave me the sense that my situation was not urgent or important. (A professional way of saying, your situation is not a priority, she’ll get to it when she gets to it, and believe me, I’m not saying I’m a priority or better than anyone, I am saying MY SITUATION merited a closer than fleeting glance) I had been without my medication for almost a week, and I was truly suffering. Yet, when Walgreens finally called to let me know they had restocked the medication, I immediately called and told the doctor’s office and asked what do I do? She told me not to pick it up from them. They implied that doing so might make me look like I was trying to “beat the system.”

I was simply trying to manage my chronic illness with the medication that had been prescribed to me, a treatment I’ve been using for years. The lack of communication from my doctor’s office made the situation even more exasperating. My health was deteriorating, and yet, I was met with suspicion and delay.

Then, as it was a Friday and I thought the doctors office wasn’t going to respond because it was a Friday I made the decision to pick up the medication from Walgreens anyway, I received an unexpected message from the doctor’s office: they had approved my prescription and were sending it to Walmart. By then, I had already gotten the medication from Walgreens, I of course immediately called the office felt compelled to make it clear that I picked it up. That morning in fact. Then I said I wanted everything handled through Walmart from that point on. This wasn’t an issue of seeking special treatment; it was a matter of ensuring I had access to the medication I needed, which I had been prescribed and ordered in advance.

This experience has shed light on the urgent need for better patient advocacy, both from healthcare providers and pharmacies. Policies and protocols need to be in place to handle situations like this—where patients are at risk of going without crucial medications and the healthcare system fails to support them. When withdrawal symptoms are involved, or when a patient’s medical condition is chronic and requires ongoing treatment, a system should exist that ensures no patient is left in limbo or subjected to unnecessary delays. Communication should be clear, swift, and consistent. When a patient is suffering, there should be a concrete backup plan for emergencies, so that healthcare providers and pharmacies can act quickly to prevent harm.

Unfortunately, my experience with the healthcare system didn’t end there. After seeing how badly I was struggling, my husband urged me to see his doctor, hoping they could offer more support. His doctor is part of the same hospital network, so we made an appointment and explained the situation, he did not think changing to his doctor would make anything worse, he just felt that I deserved better treatment. To his surprise (but sadly not mine), the doctor, without even fully understanding my medical history, immediately dismissed my need for pain medications. She suggested I visit a pain clinic, something I had done years ago, only to be treated like a criminal.

The doctor seemed unconcerned with the fact that I’ve been managing chronic pain from fibromyalgia, a condition with no cure, for years. I explained that I avoid narcotics—especially opioids—due to my previous history. I have not taken opioids since my heart stopped in 2017. Yet, this doctor treated my use of a non-narcotic medication like (L) as if it were just another attempt to get high.

So, how do we move forward? What needs to change to ensure that no patient is left without the care they need?

  • First, healthcare systems must implement clear protocols for handling medication issues and withdrawal symptoms. Providers and pharmacies alike should be trained to recognize the urgency of these situations and act swiftly.
  • Second, patients need better access to advocacy resources and should never feel like they’re fighting an uphill battle to receive their prescribed treatments.
  • And lastly, healthcare providers should understand the real, lived experiences of their patients, especially those dealing with chronic illness.

I’m ready to get started on making these changes happen. There are many moving parts, but with enough support and awareness, we can begin to create a more compassionate, responsive healthcare system for everyone. This is about more than just medication—it’s about treating patients with dignity and respect. This fight isnt only chronic pain, its anyone who takes a prescription they will have withdrawal from. I’m hoping to start/join a community and make a difference. Until next time gang. take care of yourselves, and each other.

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Finding Your Tribe: When Life’s Dealt You a Crappy Hand

Let’s face it, parenting is hard enough without throwing mental health issues, chronic pain, or neurodivergence into the mix. It’s like trying to juggle flaming chainsaws while riding a unicycle – on a tightrope. Over a pit of hungry alligators.

First off, let’s address the elephant in the room: isolation. When you’re dealing with bipolar disorder, fibromyalgia, ADHD, or raising a kid with autism, it can feel like you’re on a deserted island. A really shitty deserted island where the coconuts are actually grenades and the sand is made of Legos. But you’re not alone. There are tons of us out here, fumbling through life, trying not to fuck up too badly. Alot of us out here that feel like we are one mistake or misunderstanding away from being ostracized by everyone we love if we say anything thats even remotely negative, and stuff it down, way down to our toes but every day theres more and more… Oh is that just me? If you relate to any of this, all of this, you are among friends.

But maybe you’re old school and want to see actual human faces. Local support groups can be a godsend. Picture this: a room full of people who don’t bat an eye when you say you forgot to pack your kid’s lunch because a depressive episode hit you like a freight train. No judgment, just understanding nods and maybe someone offering to carpool next time. It’s fucking beautiful.

Here’s a fun fact for you: Studies show that people with chronic conditions who participate in support groups report lower levels of stress, anxiety, and depression. It’s like group therapy, but without the hefty price tag and with more swearing.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking: “But what if I’m too anxious to meet new people?” or “What if my fibro flares (as its known to do especially when we get nervous, so that starts its own self destructive doom cycle) and I can’t make it?” Listen, we’ve all been there. The beauty of our fucked-up little community is that we get it. Can’t make it to the meetup because your body decided today was a good day to feel like you’ve been hit by a truck? Send a message. Chances are, someone else is in the same boat and you can commiserate virtually.

Remember, building connections takes time. It’s not like those cheesy rom-coms where you meet your best friend in a quirky coffee shop and suddenly you’re inseparable. It’s more like dating – awkward at first, with a lot of trial and error. But when you find your people, it’s worth all the cringe-worthy small talk and anxiety-induced sweating. I started my online fibro journey 20 years ago and am proud to say I have friends from a few countries and sometimes that is super helpful perspective wise. I like to think of it like a marathon. Only we arent racing, its not a sprint. There are people who will pull ahead or fall behind, theres some that will keep pace with you for a time its all welcome, you learn from every encounter, just trust and be open to the blessings and gifts and messages buried in pain, good or bad, there are always lessons to be learned.

So, here’s your homework, you beautiful dears: Reach out. Join a group. Send a message. Hell, start your own support group if you can’t find one that fits. Because at the end of the day, we’re all in this together. We’re all just trying to keep our heads above water while making this whole world spin. And remember, on those days when everything feels like too much, when you’re convinced you’re the worst person in the world, there’s a whole community out here ready to remind you that you’re doing just fine. We’ve got your back, even if we’re all a bit of a hot mess ourselves. Just do your best and we’ll pull each other up, one rung of the ladder at a time. Til next time gang,take care of yourselves and look out for each other. And George, look out for George he’s a shady little fucker …

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Leaning Into It

OK guys, I’m struggling with some things and guys, little secret, I SUCK at advice to myself, I was given a lesson today to act with intention, so lets reach out, help make ONE PERSON smile while then I feel it was a complete day. I feel like I’m 20 different people in a one person body and they are all moving at different speeds and opposite directions. So let’s dive into the chaos fest that IS feeling like a worthless pile of crap while drowning in a sea of half-finished projects. If you’re riding the rollercoaster lets talk about how to about to embrace this mess like it’s our job. Yes I feel like we have dealt with these themes, but I can only write what I know, and unfortunately pain is what I know. Its my shadow and my security blanket at the same time. I’m having trouble seeing the light but I know its there somewhere.

  1. Feelings We All Have Them: Acknowledge Them, But Don’t Let Them Define You
    Look, feeling unloved or worthless sucks donkey balls. But here’s the kicker: feelings are just feelings. They’re not facts, no matter how much your brain tries to convince you otherwise. So, next time your brain tells you you’re worthless, tell it to fuck right off. Sorry for liberally using the word fuck, but I’m serious, you have worth even on your worst days. It SUCKS that our brains root against us sometimes.

  1. Self-Compassion: Because Being an Asshole to Yourself Isn’t Helping
    On days when getting out of bed feels like climbing Everest, cut yourself some slack. Instead of beating yourself up over unfinished projects, celebrate the fact that you managed to put on pants. Or even that you managed to locate clean ones lol Progress is progress, even if it’s at a snail’s pace.
  1. Routines: Flexible Is Best
    Structure is great, but let’s be real – our conditions are about as predictable as a cat on catnip. Create a routine that bends like a rubber band, not snaps like a twig. And if your day goes to hell in a handbasket? There’s always tomorrow. I also find that you can define a task two ways, if you set yourself a start time and an end time, whether its finished or not, you tuck it away, but what if its a task you can’t just drop because its cooking or something? So I can see the pluses or minues each way. I find blocks of time work best FOR ME, but its super subjective so if you think the other way is better let me know how it works.
  1. Project Management: One Tiny Step at a Time, You Overachiever
    Got a hundred unfinished projects? I hear ya! I have in my brain that are all excited and ready to go the instant I put one to the side lol. Instead of trying to tackle them all at once like some kind of superhero, break them down into baby steps, pretty sure I told you guys, baby steps are my jam and the only way I ever accomplish anything. Its literally been ‘ok, if you can make it 15 minutes…’ whatever you are facing, ask yourself, can it wait 15 minutes? It sucks and its hard but can you just keep moving forward for 15 more minutes? Can you hang on 5 more minutes, can you hold this pain, this need to do or not do something? S. Completed one tiny task? Fuck yeah, you’re killing it!
  1. Reach Out: Because Misery Loves Company (In a Good Way)
    You’re not alone in this clusterfuck, so don’t act like you are. Reach out to your people – the ones who get it. Sometimes, just knowing someone else is in the same boat can make you feel less like you’re drowning.
  1. Mindfulness: Because Your Brain Needs a Time-Out
    When your thoughts are spinning faster than a hamster on Red Bull, it’s time for some mindfulness. Take a few deep breaths, focus on the present, or try meditation. It’s like hitting the pause button on your brain’s chaos. It helps me even if its just a quick five minutes in the quiet before everyone gets up.

  1. Embrace the Mess: Because Perfect is Boring AF
    Life with chronic conditions is messy, unpredictable, and sometimes downright shitty. But you know what? It’s also uniquely yours. Embrace the chaos, celebrate the small wins, and remember that your worth isn’t measured by your productivity or how many projects you finish. You keep being you, you keep showing up

Remember, you magnificent mess, you’re doing the best you can with the hand you’ve been dealt. And that hand might be full of jokers, but you’re still in the game. So be kind to yourself, embrace the messiness, and know that you’re worthy of love and respect, even on your worst days. Now go forth and conquer, you beautiful, chaotic souls. You’ve got this. Take care of yourselves, and each other.