A pox on insurance companies

I'm very, very blessed to have good insurance. I'm even more blessed than most people because I live in a state that doesn't have mandated mental health coverage but am insured through my company, which is based in a state that does require it. That saves me a ton in psychiatric fees and allows me to be hospitalized, although I still pay for counselling because I insist on seeing a Christian therapist. (And I wouldn't change providers when I got insurance). So I only have 15 partially covered visits a year.

However, sometimes the rules just annoy me to the point I'm speechless. As described in my previous post I am requiring enough sedation to kill a bear to get a small amount of sleep right now. The insomnia is painful and overwhelming, and everything I do dissolves into tears of frustration because I'm just so tired.

After my few hours of sleep last night I was trying to spend the day being quiet. Which is really, really hard when you're manic, but again if you are in a mixed state and you get tired enough you can at least lay down and think chains of nonsense. Or write emails that make no sense and include words you create yourself because you no longer can type because you need sleep. (In other words I am benefitting from the depression part of the mixed episode negating some of the mania; if this were mania alone it would probably be pretty intense). Normally when I'm mixed I still feel one end or the other, just alternating very quickly and with great force. This time I feel both things at once.

Anyway, I needed to go get the prescription my doctor had called in last night for me to have sleeping pills. I've been using samples and needed a higher dose. I got there and was told there was a glitch and I needed to come back. I groaned because I barely got dressed to do this; I was planning on driving through and so I put on jeans and a bra with the sweatshirt I was sleeping in and combed my hair. No deodorant, no toothbrushing, and clearly this glitch meant going inside. So I did that, trying to stay away from everyone, only to learn my insurance wouldn't pay for the prescribed drug without a war that would take a week. Not an option. So I took a chance and called and emailed my doctor with the situation. A few hours later she called back, said she doesn't work on Sundays but got my message and wanted to help. (This is why I LOVE my psychiatrist). So ultimately she had to call in 2 different scripts today to another pharmacy (stupid insurance rules), warned me I may need a higher dose but she'll give it to me from samples, and she even had my birthdate memorized to almost the correct date. So then I had to get dressed again, this time with toothbrushing and all, drive nearly 30 minutes to the nearest pharmacy that is open Sunday nights because I live in a cow pasture, enter all my information into their computer (I lied to avoid giving a med allergy list; hopefully that doesn't bite me some day), and then I had to get a tank of gas and drive another 30 minutes home.

All this because the insurance doesn't like certain drugs. And the one I now have I know won't work for long; I've taken it before. Not that I want to use this long, nor should I need to, but I want something I know will work because this is getting really old.

I'd love to know who decides that insurance companies should control what meds are appropriate for any individual based on statistics...