The Pill


This being in my 70’s has got to stop—NO, WAIT!  That’s not what I mean.  I don’t want to stop-stop.  I just want all the accompanying negatives associated with being 70 to stop.  What are they? You name it: if it is something that brings pain, irritation or decay it is more than likely you will become associated with it and taking a pill for it once you reach 70.

The trouble is, my brain is still functional.  Wait again!  I don’t consider that trouble per sé.  After all, I regularly put a usb plug in my ear and download the weekly updates from the Internet in an effort to stall Alzheimer’s and other mental calamities.

I suppose if you are really lucky you continue on into old age with little or no disruption to the usual services provided by both your body and your brain.  Then I also suppose when it’s time to go, you get one big sudden and massive take-out and be off with-yuh.

I didn’t get that card.  Uh-uh.  I got the fancy smanchy card that came with a variety of agonizing apps and painful plug-in’s and an attached mail-order pharmacy.  As a result, my operating mode is usually an array of itches, twitches, S.U.P.’s (Sudden Unexplained Pain) and M.A.I.’s (Mysteriously Appearing Injuries).

I have been playing around with arthritis lately.  Specifically, psoriatic arthritis.  I’m late in this game.  Most people who have this kind of arthritis, met up with much sooner than I have.  Basically, it’s one of those pesky inflammatory, anti-immune ailments that causes sore, stiff and swollen joints. Add this to my high blood pressure, my sleep disorders and my Parkinson’s-like motion dilemma and I’m a real fun guy to be around.  Invite me to your next party when you need entertainment.

The reason I’m getting into all of this, something I don’t usually do on my blog, is that yesterday was almost laughable if not so tragic.  My arthritis doctor started me on this new hoochie koochie foo-foo pill called Otezla.  You may have seen some of the commercials currently running on some of your favorite older demographic television shows.

She gave me a sample package that looked like something designed by a Madison Avenue agency.  That’s it pictured above.  It’s elaborate as hell with a built-in section in which the pill package resides and another to hold all the propaganda.  The blister pack of pills takes the patient on a gradual, incremental buildup of dosage until 30mg is reached, assuming you tolerate the diarrhea and upset stomach that is not included in the fancy packaging…these two side effects reside in you…no extra charge!

Given the appearance of this pill’s delivery system and the fact that Medicare sent me a personal letter explaining a portion of this “4-tier” medicine would be covered, the rest being my responsibility, I got to wondering just exactly how much that might be?  Waddayuhthink?  Turns out my share for a three-month supply of 90 pills would be $1,244.35.  If you ask me, that’s a little hard to swallow.  I think I shall opt out and instead try a daily bottle of Dr. Feel Good.  Onward to 80!


About Marc Kuhn

I am a retired radio exec. I've worked at major stations in Philadelphia, Washington, D.C. and Miami. That was then. This is now: I've published seven books and this blog thingy. Need to know more? Really? Okay, I bare/bear all at The other links are for the websites of each of the books I've written. I've been busy! Hope you'll stop by and check them out. Thanks for your interest!
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