I inHALE, dude

(We interrupt My Awesome Kids stories for this unscheduled mini-rant.)

I inhale. Regularly, in fact. I've been doing it since before I was in high school. Back then, I did it once in the morning and once in the evening. Now, the frequency has increased: twice in the morning and once in the evening. Over the years, I've experimented with several different kinds, but I've always come back to the one that does the job best. I always have some of it with me. Back in high school, it was no big deal; I didn't even had to pay for it. Now, though, I pay. Mightily, and I'm not too pleased about it, either. It's going to make a serious dent in the budget. In fact, when I first got the letter that my insurance company was changing the asthma inhaler that I use the most from a Tier 2 to a Tier 3 medication, almost doubling my copay, I...

Really now. What did you THINK I was talking about?

Anyway. Back to paying through the nose. Ironically, the healthcare organization responsible for this currently is running a series of commercials about how they are making things better, easier, and more affordable for patients. You've probably seen the commercials; the most recent one features a variety of medical gear wrapped in layers of red tape. They should make another one, featuring a woman reaching into her pocket over and over with a bewildered expression on her face, realizing she doesn't have enough cash for her copay, and then searching frantically for her credit card, and then searching for a different credit card. Perhaps, for dramatic effect, she could be coughing, or even gasping for breath.

I am seriously not thrilled about the increased copay. I did know about it beforehand, after I received my, "We're increasing the cost of the inhaler that you've used monthly for more than ten years. Ask your doctor about this new one, which you've never heard of in your life, as a lower-cost alternative!" letter. This is, of course, an entirely reasonable suggestion. But I really have tried several different types of inhalers in the past, and the results? Have not been pretty. They worked very well from a breathing standpoint, but I could have baked a dozen loaves of bread with what they made grow in my throat. I am not currently open to trying a lower-cost alternative now, thanks.

In additon, my generic rescue inhaler, aka albuterol, is being phased out as a generic. Why? Because albuterol inhalers contain CFCs. This confuses me slightly, because generally, people who use albuterol inhalers do not spray them into the air like aerosol hairsprays. They INHALE albuterol. Into their LUNGS. How does that affect the ozone layer? (Is this why I sunburn so easily?) If someone with a science background can explain this to me, I'd appreciate it. Because the name-brand rescue inhalers cost four times as much as the generic ones. (Granted, my asthma is well-managed by the daily maintenance meds and I am rarely in need of rescue, so I may not need to get another one for a while. However, spending $10 is still preferable to spending $42, even if it is the answer to life, the universe, and everything...)

So, my recent trip to the drugstore, for my now-more-expensive monthly inhaler, my no-longer-generic inhaler, and my other daily inhaler (which inexplicably cost a fraction of the other two) cost $100. This healthcare company is making things easier, all right; at least, it made the decision to switch to New Job's health and prescription plan a very easy decision indeed.*

And, in other news, OH GREAT NOW I HAVE SOMETHING ELSE TO WORRY ABOUT.

*I am, as always, grateful for what I have, and should mention that this stuff costs WAY, WAY MORE without health insurance, and that I'm lucky to even have the option of switching to an insurance plan with lower prescription copays. And that plenty of people are gasping for breath on a regular basis because they can't manage the cost of maintenance meds. Breathing easily should be a right, not a privilege.