338 // A Minor Mistake

Yesterday I was grateful for modern medicine, today I loath the entire American health care industry.

Long story short, I made a minor mistake that resulted in needing my medication replaced, not refilled, but my insurance provider refused. They admitted that the mistake was both understandable and commonplace, but instead of having a simple and compassionate solution ready; I was directed back and forth from department to department and between them and the drug company again and again and again.

The process was stressful and disappointing at every level. I was left feeling incompetent, completely alone, and terrified of what a missed dose might mean.

The worst part of any illness isn’t the illness itself but dealing with pharmacies, drug companies, insurance providers, and all their bureaucratic roadblocks and the problem is infinitely worse that illness and consequently the bureaucratic roadblocks are chronic.

The good news is that within this cruel and capitalist system there are a few good people and between my doctor and the nurse ambassador with the drug company I’ve been reassured I will probably be okay and that I am not, in fact, the world’s number one failure.

So, so much for a day that belonged to me. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to destress and salvage some self-esteem. Ordering a pizza with my favorite toppings, watching old episodes of Veep, and knowing I still have tomorrow to myself helps a lot. Today wasn’t a good one, but it’s already in the past and soon it will join every other bad day I’ve ever had as a distant and dim memory, something to laugh about or repress forever.

I can’t do it today. I just can’t. I woke up this morning still feeling exhausted and just the thought of repeating the stress of yesterday was more than I could handle. So, I’m staying home today and you know what? I feel a hell of a lot better without the weight of the outside world on me. I may be feeling down and sickly but here in my own home all alone it isn’t so bad.


I should have spent the day resting, or even writing if I really wanted to get something done but instead I cleaned the house. Cleaning, after all, is the most satisfying kind of procrastination and I had hours and hours for it today. What makes it so insidious is how hard it is to regret. How can I feel bad when everything around me is so organized now? It’s a space clear enough to think in, to write in, but now I’m too tired.

And tonight I’m miserable again and tomorrow I will be too but I have to go back to work. Resting time is over and I wasted it, but for now the house is clean, my wife is home, and having at least that means everything.