Fuck You, Ortho-McNeil Janssen. And Insurance Companies, too.

Once upon a time I used to have seizures.  Brain tumors might cause 'em, y'know.

The neurologist, Dr. B and I, we rolled the dice with different pills and my head.  Maybe this combo will work, he said.

A lot of times, they didn't.

So we kept adding this and that, more and more Topamax, let's try that.  And one day, yes one day, it worked.

And I worked.  And I still work.  And I pay for insurance.  And I used to pay $60 every 3 months for the magical drug.  Not much, I know.  But think about how else I paid.

Then one day, see, the Generic Costume entered.  What's the difference, right?

According to Dr. B, a big one.  No way, he say.  With this drug, stick with the real thing.  The one that works.  So I told Caremark, my insurance drug company, those exact words.

Fine, they said, just pay for it.

Huh?

And it jumped from $60 to $832.  Three months later it was $916.  And today, three months later, it's $1082.

I want to try the generic, but my doctor's against it.  Karla's against it.  Even Rabbi Doug's against it.  And considering how much money they're fucking me for, I'm sure Ortho-McNeil Janssen and Caremark are against it, too.

Friday thru Sunday drinks; Sunday thru Tuesday MRI plans

Friday night was martini night.  Our toast had a hint of Hebrew.

Last night we had a cocktail post-theater with performers whose writing and talent inspire me to call Miki this week and start something new.  My fingers are itching.

And this afternoon we shared wine with the rabbi and discussed his current healing book plans among other things.  Then he healed me.  Completely.  El na rifa na la.

Last MRI we saw Rabbi Doug on Sunday, got the MRI on Monday, and the results on Tuesday.  This MRI's plans are the same.

MRI tomorrow after work.  Results the day after, after work.  Then wine--or whiskey--or whatever after the results.  In celebration.  And with a toast to Rabbi Doug.