I finally had my *follow up* appointment with the doctor. It went pretty much as I expected. She patiently (and slowly) went over the pros, cons, potential side-effects and whatever else of testosterone with me (again). I sat literally on the edge of my seat, shaking with anticipation, itching to interrupt her. I don’t know how I did it, but I sat quietly and let her finish. I tried to think of new questions to ask, but truthfully, I didn’t have any. I already knew everything she was saying (I could practically recite it verbatim myself) and I knew that this time I was going to say yes.
I felt giddy, like a kid who just reached 48″, big enough to ride the new, scary, fun, fast carnival ride. Having clicked slowly to the top, experiencing that brief pause ripe with anticipation, excitement and a hint of fear. There is no going back. My insides felt like the inside of a blender on high speed. With clammy hands and an bemused brain, I signed every piece of paper and initialed every paragraph required. It reminded me a bit of signing a mortgage and I wondered what the payment plan would be like.
Throughout the paperwork signing, there were puffs of awareness of Emily that jolted me with anxious guilt. We hadn’t actually had a discussion about this beyond her conceding that it might not be the worst thing in the world. I felt felonious and ashamed when I thought of her. But my overwhelming sensation was excitement as I watched the physician click her way through the prescription process, sending a virtual prescription to my CVS.
She turned from her computer screen, smiled at me and stood up as she said, “That’s that. You should be able to pick it up on your way home from work. Anything else?” My entire being was smiling stupidly as I shook my head and thanked her.
I was on cloud nine, tingling with sanguineness, as I floated through my day at work. Some time in the afternoon I heard the familiar *ding* from my phone that I’d gotten a text message. It was from CVS. As they don’t typically stock that prescription, I would have to wait 2-3 days for them to get it in stock. They apologized for any inconvenience. I sagged, but did not sink. I knew it had sounded too good to be true, too easy, anyway. And, to put things into perspective, this was not a life or death emergency situation. I breathed and tried to relax.
When 3 days and then 4 and 5 had gone by, I called CVS to ask what was going on. Apparently, they had gotten the testosterone gel in stock, but insurance was denying coverage. CVS was looking into why and would update me when they had more information.
Another few days of obsessively checking my *MYCVS* app. I called again. It had been over a week. This time I was told that my insurance was requiring an authorization (actually a pre-authorization) from my doctor before approving this *controlled substance*. CVS hadn’t contacted me, because they were working on getting that pre-authorization from my doctor. The pharmacist I spoke with suggested I also contact my doctor with the hopes of speeding up the process.
Back and forth between Fenway, CVS and insurance I went. Days passed and my patience was waning. Fenway sent the authorization. Insurance said it was the wrong authorization, explaining that there was a specific form they required. Insurance faxed that specific form to Fenway. Fenway said they filled it out and faxed it back. In the meantime, I still didn’t have my testosterone.
Another week went by. I was a bear. My patience was non-existent and my temper was fraying and escaping my control intermittently on innocent bystanders throughout my days. I tried not to be a pest (something I am very sensitive to – God forbid I burden others with my insignificant desires), and even though I wanted to pepper CVS, my insurance and my doctor repeatedly with phone calls and emails, I didn’t. I had only confided in one person (and that person wasn’t Emily), which left me feeling guilty, wrong and alone in my despair. Perhaps the process was so difficult because the Universe was not-so-subtly telling me this was not a good idea?
When I’d nearly given up hope of getting anything resolved, I heard from one of the parties involved (I forget which one) that the pre-authorization form had been filled out and signed and faxed and received. I was buoyed by hope, confident that things were starting to move.
But another few days passed with no new information. After quite a bit of mental misery I forced myself to call again. Apparently, there was still a glitch, one more small required hoop to jump through. My insurance was requesting more recent blood work before they will sign off. The Fenway blood lab opens at 8:00AM. I will be there tomorrow at 7:59.