Pharmcists and Medication

Sometimes having a child with special needs sucks, and not in the way you would think. While dealing with the issues you know you have to face on a daily basis can be soul grinding at times, it's the things you don't expect to deal with that really slap you upside the head and make you want to go postal that do it.

Take meds, for example. A typical parent doesn't need to worry about medication on a daily basis for their child, nor do they need to schedule in the monthly drive to pick up the prescriptions, and then go get the meds dropped off at the local pharmacy. And if they need meds when their child is sick, it's usually a short term deal.

With Xavier and ADHD, medication is a major part of how he can cope. It's not a be all end all, but when added to behavior modification, a good schedule, and a lot of adults there to help, it allows him to live as normal a life as possible. And his meds are the kind that I can't randomly call up the pharmacist and ask for a refill. I have to contact his doctor every month, drive my ass down there, drive it to the pharmacist, and hope like hell I don't get a new person. Because new pharmacists suck.

Why?

Because every time I get a new pharmacist, I have to go through the rigmarole to prove that YES my son DOES need "all those" medications, and that I am not using him as my recreational drug supplier. I have to slowly spell every ones name, age, birth date, social security numbers, all former names of pets, every address I have ever lived at (which I think I'm now up to 13?) and wave my passport for a stamp of approval. Unfortunately, my local pharmacy has a turn around like a carousel and I have to go through this shit every few months. I think it might be time to find a more stable pharmacy environment.

Then I have to wait to make sure that the pharmacy even has the medications in stock (which half of the time they don't in which I run around in a panic, trying to find another pharmacy that might and deal with a new pharmacist). And then I have to deal with the POS insurance companies, who also think I might be a druggie, and randomly refuse us the meds needed because we put in the prescription 23 seconds too early.

Today I dealt with two of these issues and a new one: my credit card company decided that it wasn't me trying to buy the expensive medication I do every month on the SAME card, but was a thief and refused to approve unless I called and proved it was me.



This morning I met the new pharmacist. She bounced over to the drive through window like Tigger on crack.
Pharm: Hi, may I help you???
Me: Yes, I have three prescriptions to fill. ( I hand them over. She looks at them for a good minute, scrutinizing the doctors signature, making sure it wasn't a photocopy.)
Pharm: Maam, are these prescriptions for you?
Me: No, my son.
Pharm: And he needs all three of these?
Me: Yes
Pharm: Really? He needs both (##) Concerta AND (##) Concerta?
Me: Yes, he does. You can check your records if you wish.
Pharm: Have you filled here before?
Me: Yes. And he has had that same prescription filled here for many months.
Pharm: I see. I am going to go check, ok?
Me: (nodding in resignation and leaning back to catch a quick nap while she raids the files).
Pharm: (5 minutes later) Yes, I see that he has had his prescription filled here before. This is the same one?
Me: Yes.
Pharm: Can you tell me your sons name?
Me: Xavier
Pharm: and his date of birth?

I tell her through gritted teeth and finally she seems to either believe me or she knows I'm about to lunge through the window, grab her cutesy Bugs bunny tie and choke hold her until she puts the damn order in. She checks to make sure they have the medication (someone above realizes I've had enough at this moment because oddly enough they have all three in stock) and I tell her I will pick them up this afternoon.

Which I do, and deal with a new issue entirely, and one that nearly had me ( and the kids) go crazy with how much time we sat with thumbs up our asses.



I have a very specific credit card used solely for medication purposes. For some random reason, this time when I went to pay for Xavir's meds, the credit card company decided to refuse on the basis that they thought the exorbitant prices of meds was not what it was every month, but that the card was stolen. Which meant that I had to call in and prove it was me.
 So I sat there, on hold, for fifteen minutes waiting to talk to a person. And when I finally got a person I realized that in my frustrated haste I called the wrong number. Instead of the credit card company I got a Presbyterian church (which has an 888 number by the way... who knew?).

Instead of waiting on hold again for an ungodly amount of time I asked the pharmacist to try again. If it didn't work Id just come back later. She swiped the card, and voila! It worked. I have a feeling that it wasn't my credit card, but that the new pharmacist fucked up.


Shit like this makes me so grateful for alcohol.

Die

Soren has finally exploded in his vocabulary, for which we parents are truly grateful. for the most part. There are definitely some times where we really wish he wasn't picking up words and phrases so fast, as well as wishing he was not the youngest of three boys. Because we have learned that his brothers are both the best and worst teachers for him.

I could sit there for hours, repeating a word to Soren and he wouldn't give me the time of day. But anything out of the mouths of Ashe or Xavier, and Soren is doing his damndest to mimic each syllable.

So when both Ashe and Xavier started making fun of Dora, Soren's favorite show, I tried to keep on their butt about it. I knew Soren wold start picking up some of the phrases the boys would use to bond in their brotherly way. And I was right. Because despite my high end efforts of stopping it from happening, Soren came up to me recently and told me that Dora and Boots die. And then he giggled and ran away.

I had hoped that maybe he was just parroting back the phrase I heard Xavier and Ashe snicker to each other quietly, hoping I wouldn't hear. (When will these boys learn I hear everything?) But again, my hopes were dashed when not long after, Soren was playing wit his toy Mario on the table and it fell off the ledge. Soren looked up at me and said "UH OH, MARIO DIE!!!". Great. Just fucking great.

So now I have to sit the little tyke down, and try to explain the difference between a toy falling and death. Thanks boys. Thanks a million. By the way, you're both grounded the next time I hear the word die out of your mouths.

Strawberry Season

Strawberries are one of the most coveted food sources of my family. If we buy two pints of strawberries at the local food store, they're usually gone before all of the groceries have been brought into the house. And then the boys clamor for more the rest of the week. But nothing, I mean nothing, beats the taste of sun ripened, just picked off the vine by your very own hands, fresh as you can get, strawberries. Everything else pales in comparison. It makes the strawberries in food stores taste like cardboard.

Fortunately for us, we have a kick ass local farm stand literally a minute from Xavier's school and starting mid-April they open up their pick your own strawberry patches. I am writing this in April (sorry for the late publishing but I didn't want to spam blogs) and we just got back from our first strawberry picking expedition of the season.

our ginormous bucket of fantastic strawberries. No, you can't have any! MINE!!

After school today I whipped over to the berry patch with three excited kids, all of us ready to gorge on strawberries until our stomachs were crying out in pleasured agony. I grabbed one of the giant buckets they offer, refusing to allow each boy their own. While technically we "could" have easily eaten $40 worth of strawberries, I didn't feel like paying that much and dealing with juicy red poop for the next week. One bucket it was, to the disappointment of my spawnlings.

We headed over to one of the rows and I loosed the boys with a whoop and they took off. Until a butterfly gently floated by Xavier, and he freaked out, remembering that he hates bugs of any kind. Instantly he ran back to me and started up a commentary about each passing insect as I slowly made my way down the row, searching for ripe berries.

"OOOOOOH, go away spider!!!"
"That's not a spider, that's an ant."
"Seriously???? It's gotta be the biggest ant ever!"
"Ummm, it's normal size. Move over, you're blocking the berries."
Ashe (yelling three rows over): "MOM! I GOT ONE!" I smile and wave. Soren's two rows away, popping berry after berry in his mouth. He notices me looking at him and grins, red juice and mashed berries dripping down his chin.

"Holy cow! That butterfly almost ran into me! Can butterfly's be dangerous????"
"Ahhh, no."
"Promise?"
"Xavier, do butterflies look like they can hurt you?"
"I don't know."

Ashe (yelling four rows over): "MOM! I GOT ANOTHER!!!"" I smile and wave. Soren's still popping berries in his mouth. I'm glad I put him in a dark shirt today.

"HOLY CRAP LOOK AT THAT WOLF SPIDER!!!!!"
"Xavier, that's not a wolf spider."
"How do you know???? It could be!!!"
"You know what? Since you're not picking any berries, and obviously you're not having fun out here, why don't you wait for us by the car? We won't be much longer."
"I'm having fun!!!"
"......Really, dude?"
"Really. I just don't want to pick strawberries anymore."
"You haven't picked any."
"I'm ok with that."

After filling the ginormous bucket in 15 minutes, the boys and I head back to the stand to pay. As we step in line Xavier starts telling me how he wants to be a farmer when he grows up, and he's going to not only have a strawberry farm, but he'll also raise dragonflies and bees, and possibly even some butterflies. I just stare at him in bewilderment, wondering if he's on drugs. This, coming from the kid who merely minutes ago, was ready to jump into my arms when a dragonfly raced by a full row away. Instead of asking him where his stash is and could I have some, I instead smile hesitantly, and tell him I'll be the first in line to pick strawberries at his farm.




Oh yeah, the strawberries are already almost gone. And we've only been home for an hour.