Excerpts from The Journals Of A 21 Century Schizoid Man;
So once again, I found myself in Dr. Skrog’s office. He kept checking on my liver functions and other signs to make sure I was getting along OK. Today he had something new to say. On the one hand, I had diabetes. On the other, he said they have a new cure for Hepatitis C.
“It’s a new medicine,” he said. “You take it for 12 weeks straight and then you finish with the old routine for 48 weeks. This new medicine usually works. I would suggest you try it. It has a really good chance of killing off your Hepatitis. I’ve rarely seen it not work.”
Immediately I dreaded going through all that medicine again. It was pure hell. On the other hand I was tired of being sick a lot and I got tired of not really having any future. I decided it was worth the pain and suffering if once and for all, I could get back to normal. After all, if the cure worked I could actually plan a future again. I could even look forward to some kind of meaningful work. Maybe I could occasionally have beer once in a while.
This changed my whole outlook on life. If it worked, I had a future I had given up on. I could actually plan for at least some type of meaningful work before I died. I am in my late 50s, so my life is probably half over. But a person can do a lot in 20 or 30 years.
I agreed to see a specialist and start the treatment as soon as possible. His name was Dr. Cook. When I met him, he was very positive. He even suggested I may be able to get a liver transplant if all does not go well. He warned me that the viruses can come back, after the treatment, but there was a 70% chance that wouldn’t happen. I agreed to the treatment.
The only problem I had was that the insurance company wanted to make sure that they needed to pay for this medicine as it is very expensive. They kept checking with the doctors and stalling, until I was two months late on starting my medication.
As usual, insurance companies want to make all the money off of our medical system, but they really don’t want to pay anything out. They could care less if I lived or died, they just wanted to save money. Insurance companies are among the worst vultures of US society.
I finally did get my medicine and of course the new medicine had to be taken with fat and I had to take it every eight hours around the clock. I felt groggy, fatigued and in general I just felt shitty. But I put up with the medicine and did my best. I figured that after the first 12 weeks, things would get better and I would feel better.
As much as I hated going through the trouble, if it worked, it would be worth it and my life would change for the better.