Category: Healthcare

If you are over 55, in the name of all that is holy, GET A FLU SHOT.

As I mentioned in my post from a week ago, Ben brought the flu home and graciously shared it with me. Last fall when I started seeing the ads for flu shots I thought “I really need to schedule mine,” but with everything else going on in our lives at the moment, we both kept pushing it off, and we’ve now both paid the price—me especially. (Ben is more or less back to normal at this point.)

I’ve been in the hospital since Tuesday. That morning I started hacking up stuff whose description is best left to the imagination and my O2 sats were under 90%, so together we ran over to Urgent Care. The doctor took one listen to my lungs and said, “You need to go to the ER immediately.”

So we ran over to the same hospital where I’ve had everything else done over the past year. To their credit, I was whisked immediately back and put in an isolation room and after meeting with a doctor, treatment was started. I stayed there for the next THIRTY EIGHT HOURS while waiting for a room to become available upstairs.

It seems my flu had morphed into bacterial pneumonia which—as we all know for people over a certain age—is a very dangerous thing to acquire. Since Tuesday I’ve been on some heavy duty IV antibiotics, multiple bdaily reathing treatments, and supplemental oxygen. I’m supposedly well enough to be sent home later today (with an oxygen concentrator to use as needed). Normally I’d be champing at the bit to go home, but as my Nurse Practitioner friend so succinctly put it, “You’re in the safest place you could be right now.”

So…if you’re an old fart, don’t ever forget that yearly flu shot. After all this, going forward I know I won’t.

A couple weeks ago I went in for my annual visit with my Ear/Nose/Throat doctor. Same routine as always: snake the laryngoscope up my nose and down my throat, make some vocalizations, receive an “all clear” from him, and on my way for another year.

That visit was different, however. This time he spotted a polyp on one of the vocal folds. He said he didn’t think it was anything to be concerned about, but considering my history, he wanted to err on the side of caution and recommended a biopsy to be sure. Since he’s on the verge of retirement (same guy I’ve been seeing for the last 20+ years) and now only working part time, he referred me to a colleague.

I met the new doc (very easy on the eyes—very easy), and was immediately impressed with how thoughtful, thorough, and caring he was. He had a look at the little nubbin as well, agreed with the assessment of my primary ENT, and scheduled the biopsy for last Friday.

Even though I was getting knocked out completely, I figured it would still be a simple in-and-out procedure just like such things have always been in the past. I was wrong. My O² levels in recovery were consistently below 90%. I ended up being put on supplemental oxygen and was checked into the hospital for observation. They attempted to wean me off the O², but were continually  unsuccessful. After a CT scan, a pulmonologist was brought in, and she suspected lingering pneumonia or some other non-specific respiratory infection based on the imaging. It was her opinion I was well enough to go home on a full course of antibiotics and if I was willing to stay on the O²

By that time I was crawling the walls to get out and jumped at the opportunity.

So here we are. I have a followup this afternoon with the surgeon. I had to run some vials over to the hospital this morning and I took a chance and went without being hooked up to the O² (the hospital is only a few minutes from the house and I had the canister with me just in case). The whole time my meter was reading between 93 and 95%, which is the best it’s been since all this started, so it looks like the antibiotics are finally taking hold.

And oh yeah…I’m home for the duration of the antibiotics, so there is something positive to come out of all this.

Damn the Republicans all to Hell.

I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have decent insurance. Come to think of it, I do know. I’d die.

I’m on two types of insulin, as undoubtedly most Type 2 diabetics are: a short acting type to be taken before meals, and a once-a-day long-acting variety that helps keep glucose stable the rest of the time.

In my particular case, it’s Novolog for short-acting, and Tresiba for long-acting. My endocrinologist prescribes these in 90 days supplies which—as you can imagine—is a lot of boxes of pre-filled syringes. With my insurance I pay $80 for each 90-day supply; a steal I know. I looked at the retail price they conveniently print out on each order, and I was beyond shocked. (The same goes for the other medications I take on a regular basis.)

Novolog—which is basically just plain old insulin—in that 90-day quantity retails for $3100. The Tresiba goes for $2400.

So, four refills a year of each would come to a grand total of $22,000 a year.

That comes to a little less than a third of my pre-tax income.

Who can afford to pay that?

And don’t even get me started on the cost of the Libre3 monitors…