You have pain.

You go to the doctor, and you are diagnosed. In addition to treating the problem, your doctor knows that pain makes people heal slower. As does depression. And that people who are in pain get depressed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

He writes a prescription for medication to alleviate your pain symptoms.

You take the prescription to a pharmacist, and he fills the prescription with the medicine your doctor, a person who has spent their entire life being educated in the medical profession, decided that you needed.

Because you are ill. And in pain.

You take the prescription.

You feel a little better, but not pain-free. This is something you can live with. It’s going to take time, even a month, for you to heal. But at least you are not writhing in pain. It’s something you can live with. So you do.

But the prescription runs out. Because that bottle isn’t a porthole to infinity.

You call your doctor to refill the prescription, which he does. Because he knows that being in pain slows healing.

But your insurance company will not refill the prescription. Because unbeknownst to you, insurance companies dictate whether or not they will actually fill the presciption that any medical professional dispenses. And your insurance company has decided that you have had enough.

That you shouldn’t be in pain anymore.

Even though you have not healed.

So no is the answer. Unless you want to pay for it yourself. Even though you have a prescription. Even though you pay a premium each month for this insurance. Even though this doctor was approved by your insurance company as being competent to make the best choices in your medical care. But an accountant has taken over now. And that accountant has decided that you shouldn’t be in pain anymore.

And now, knowing this, your doctor has decided that this is the last refill on your pain medicine that he will call in. Because he doesn’t need the hassle from the insurance company. Because he’s sure you’ll be fine by the time this script runs out, and if not, well… we’ll deal with that at the time.

How do you feel? How should I feel? Because how I feel is like everyone around me thinks that I am some dort of drug seeking junkie who’s strung out on Lortab. Lortab?!? Really?!? This after I really pushed myself to come off the Percocet (a stronger narcotic) before I really had to. Because I have been trying to get by on as little pain medication as I can while still being functional. Because I know that being in pain slows healing. And I know that in the first days, when the pain was so bad I begged anyone to peel me out of my skin if only for five minute’s reprieve, I was depressed and in a bad way. I don’t want to go back to that place, in body or in mind.

But my insurance company says I should not be in pain any more. I guess they forgot to tell that to Frankentaint.