Thank God for Prescription Drug Benefits

And for the third month in a row now, my Pharmacy has screwed up my scripts. This time fortunately it's not nearly so complicated as it was the previous times, and I should be able to get it cleared up with a phone call -- gave me the wrong amount of one of my meds, and then filled a script which my oncologist phoned in but that I didn't need to have filled because I already had the same pills available from a previous chemo treatment. But what the hell -- now I'll have them for next month, and won't need to worry about it then. Still, it concerns me -- I'm not sure whether it's miscommunication between my Doc and the Pharmacy, or if the Pharmacy is doing this all on there own, but I'm starting to feel like I'm going to have to start counting every pill now, rather than just counting on them to get it right and catching only their most egregious mistakes.

Admittedly, I take a lot of pills -- nine different drugs routinely, plus some over-the-counter laxatives and vitamins, and a few extra anti-nauseals at chemo-time. 21 pills a day, not counting any breakthrough painkillers or my nausea meds. Price tag for these drugs every month? Approximately $1765, of which I pay only 228.63 in co-pays (not counting the OTCs, which are really inconsequential in the greater scheme of things). And let me tell you, I sure am happy not to have to spend that extra $1550 every month. Now I just wish I actually had that money in my pocket!

Meanwhile, I feel more than a little uncomfortable basking in my own good fortune when I think about the situations of so many others within my little church "community." Like any urban church, we have people in the congregation every Sunday who are homeless, or maybe just one paycheck (or welfare check or disability check) away from being homeless, who also have serious other needs, some of them medical... And I/we (because I think most of the congregation feels the same way) want to help them as best we can -- and not just with a warm welcoming place on a Sunday morning where they can come in out of the weather and worship with us, then get a bite to eat and some hot coffee afterwards before heading back out into the winter; or even with the twenty or fifty or perhaps sometimes even a few hundred dollars I can come up with out of my discretionary fund in order to help out with a pressing bill or two, or to get them in to see a medical provider for some long-overdue treatment. Something both substantial and empowering, which leaves them in control of their own life but makes a small but significant difference in their own spiritual journey from where there are now to where God wants them to be.

Is that naive? Presumptive and patronizing? It's a little different situation from those folks who just go around from church to church hitting up the soft touches like me for a hand out. The policy now in those situations is simply to give them a $20 gift card to our local supermarket (which has already been designated to exclude alcohol and tobacco), and to have just enough red tape in place to discourage abuse -- ID if they have it, plus they have to sign for the card and perhaps even be photographed for our digital database (an extra step that was still under discussion when we decided on the rest). But I'm not in the office often enough these days to know whether this policy has even been implemented yet, much less evaluate whether it is working.

But these other folks are different. For all intents and purposes, they are members of the congregation just like the rest of us: they attended services regularly, sing the hymns and listen to the sermon, participate appropriately in the candlesharing, and sometimes even contribute to the collection. And that's part of what makes our Meetinghouse Sacred Space -- that fact that ANYONE can show up and for that hour at least put all of the differences of race and class, income, educational background, what-have-you in the background, and just BE together. Sure, it's an illusion and it doesn't last. But with a little gentle practice, maybe it will find a toehold OUTSIDE the Meetinghouse as well. And if we dare dream it, it might even usher in the Kingdom of Heaven....

Oh boy, it's getting well past my bedtime. Sweet Dreams!