You know, I'm glad I have friends who can still get me medications that I need when the fucking pharmacies are failing me.

First, my normal pharmacy had their manufacturer tell them that they're putting a temporary hold on production. Why? I don't know. We are in the middle of a shortage. One week being basically dope sick, one hospital visit. One phone call.

Here we are at week 2. I was told to transfer the script to another pharmacy. I did this. I was told that pharmacy needs to speak to the provider since I'm a first time patient on that med. They did that. The pharmacy then demands a copy of my doctor's patient notes which, um, super fucking invasive, but guess what. We did that too. Even though it took me going down there, spending money on gas which I barely.have any of because fuck disabled people right? I tearfully bring the notes to the pharmacy to be told....

Nope, my insurance now doesn't cover medications. MediCal does. I said okay, so run it. They run it. Well, MediCal doesn't cover my dose. They tell me to lower my dose. I said I can't do that. I'm already as low as my pain will let me go. You've seen the notes. They tell me that I need the provider to either send in a prior authorization or lower the dose. I cried. I cried right there in the pharmacy. I cried because I'm going to go into withdrawals - again. I'm in so much pain and all I can think of is how awful I felt just a week ago. How awful it felt for them to be shoving needles in my hands because I was so dehydrated. How I woke up one day without the ability to see and of course the first guess is a stroke.

And of course while I'm fumbling around, my family refuses to help me. I yell at them that me becoming more disabled won't help and to call 911 but they don't. It was just withdrawals and dehydration.

And I can't go into the pharmacy angry and agitated and crying because then they justify treating me like an addict. And technically I am. I'm dependent on my pain medication. I've got fucking two herniated discs and fibromyalga, bitch.

So, get this. I say, let me pay for it. I've got maybe $22 to my name but if it keeps me from kicking like a goddamn addict then they can have my money. And they say oh no we can't let you pay for it. Because you have insurance. The insurance that won't pay for it.

I got clean clean on 1/1/21. I left the life. Left the streets. Left the dirty trap motel. Left my cards and got all my money stolen. Left my shit to be pawned. I got sober and got help.i go to therapy. I go to my doctor apps. I stay quarantined because covid would kill me, literally. And yet, here I am. Waiting to feel constantly hot and cold at the same time. Waiting to feel how disgusting every fabric and my very skin feels against itself. Waiting to cry and beg to die. Maybe lose my vision again. Maybe have a stroke. Maybe die.

I can't fucking do this again. I can't. I'm not strong enough and I don't know what to do. It's 3 am and I'm crying. I just want to be back to my normal 5 on the pain scale. If this is what they're gonna make every pain patient go through, that opiate epidemic is gonna be a fucking apocalypse because even fought I swore I'd never do heroin, I can't lie and say it didn't cross my mind during some moments.