To wrestle with medication packaging is like breakdancing with an injured porcupine, whilst the little creature struggles to get out of a death trap. Especially when you are having a severe migraine.
I have had chronic migraine since age 13. Some medical professionals would say it makes sense, that it started at puberty, and therefore, should end at menopause. Sounds too good to be true, right? Um, no. I’m done with that — other than hot flashes that come and go — but my headaches are still brutal. Oh, well. There goes that theory.
Drug companies have no compassion for us — we, our beleaguered patients — when what we most need is to OPEN THE F*ING PACKAGE while having a MASSIVE MIGRAINE. Anyone who takes sumatriptan or Zomig knows what I’m talking about.
What happened to free-floating tablets? You know, the ones swimming around in your regular old pill bottle, where you can fish out what you need, and just swallow the damn pill, already?
Also, why blister packs on cardboard, all of the sudden? When did that come on the scene? How about the teeny tiny writing you can barely see where it says “bend and peel”? That sounds like a tap dance move. Shuff-le ball change, bend and peel, shuff-le ball change, bend and peel…
And why must our rescue meds — the self-injectible sumatriptan syringe, the Cadillac of migraine medication — have to hurt so much in the moment, when what you MUST have is RELIEF, STAT? Why?
These look like Pain Sticks, all forcibly wedged together, waiting for the Orange Vessel to overflow. Disposing of this bucket, once full, comes with its own awkward shame, where the only pharmacy in San Francisco will take it. Also, sometimes there’s a dud - see the grey thingy poking out? Sadly, there’s no return or exchange policy on this medication, one of the most expensive migraine medications out there.
Having a blood clotting disorder meant anti-coagulants for the rest of my life. When the Coumadin started, at first it made me sick. The alternative was Lovenox, self-injectibles, twice a day. Self-injecting became an art form, but I was riddled with bruises all over my belly. I’d have to decide: Hmm… Which side of my belly has the least horrifying contusions this time? I stopped using the Lovenox pretty quickly. It hurt too much.
Now, I’m still in the same boat, using my sumatriptan injector when my headache veers into severe migraine territory.
My migraines have always been chronic and severe, but they multiplied after my stroke. Just after a few weeks, I had a consult with a migraine-specific neurologist (I still see her regularly) is kooky, nerdy, sweet, and socially awkward, all at the same time. Once we got on top of my prophylactic migraine meds (that is, a combo of nortriptyline and propranolol), we landed on three rescue meds, each of which behave differently: 1) sumatriptan tablet, can take up to two hours to take effect; 2) zolmitriptan, orally disintegrating, can take up to thirty minutes to an hour; and 3) the sumatriptan injection, which can kick in immediately, or sometimes it can take up to fifteen minutes. Getting those medications dialed in changed my quality of life substantially.
And here comes the outpouring from one particularly Evil Health Insurance Provider (and whose name I will not use for liability purposes… Let’s just say, it rhymes with “shoe”), whose sole purpose is to screw me over. I am stopping this part of the story because I am JUST GETTING STARTED on my diatribe against all things health insurance-related… And that will need to be its own post.
Harumph.