Happiness of The Insured

Those of you who have gainful employment and are tired of all the crap, upset with the lack of direction/future/hope... take heart. Your insurance it better than mine.

I spent the better part of last week trying to get a perscription filled at my local drugstore. I submitted it on a Sunday. It was denied. So they called my doctor on Monday. My doctor call my insurance on Monday. The pharmacy called my insurance on Tuesday. And Wednesday. And Thursday. On Friday, the so called "insurance company" denied my script. Why? Non-formulary, you ask? Naaaa. Every perscription -- every one of them -- has to be filled by mail order.

The only exception to this are drugs for "emergencies." Does a raging migraine fall into that? No. That would be silly. Send away for it, wait three weeks and by then the migraine will be gone or my brain will have exploded. See, all better.

All this for one lousy script. And hubby pays for this so called coverage. With real money, not those pesos everyone keeps talking about. I eagerly anticipate the day I qualify for Medicare. Oh boy.

After I got done calling the alleged insurance company, the pharmacy, the doctor's office and then the pharmacy and insurance company again, I cried. Then I made a martini. 'Cus if I'm going to have a migraine, I might as well get pissed.

For those of you playing along at home, this is, indeed, my second post of the day. Unheard of. Don't get used to it. I'll back to my regularly scheduled absence tomorrow.