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Methotrexate

When I was initially diagnosed with Psoriatic Arthritis, my rheumatologist prescribed Methotrexate for my condition. He explained that it was an older drug with lots of history and there was a 40% chance that it could help me. Continuing, my doctor told me that he would prefer prescribing Humira for my PsA. After looking into my blank stare, he proceeded to tell me why he would prescribe me a drug he had so little confidence in. It seems many insurance companies are more interested in the bottom line (big surprise) than my overall suffering, therefore, I must try the Methotrexate and a similar class of drugs before trying the biologic medications that he found more successful. Did you know Methotrexate is used to treat cancer? Read more here.

I spent several weeks researching this drug and it's potential side effects. I was stressed out and overwhelmed by the idea of taking a drug used for chemotherapy. I knew my hair could fall out and according to the National Institute of Health (NIH), Methotrexate can cause Lymphoma. Just about the time I had completely convinced myself to refuse taking the drug at all, I found a forum for PsA sufferers and my perspective shifted. It seems many PsA patients are not effectively diagnosed in a timely manner and consequently suffer extensive joint damage. I had been diagnosed on May 15, 2014, but the pain had begun sometime in the summer of 2013. As I stood on a precipice considering my health and my potential quality of life, reality hit me. It was quite clear I had to move forward.

After reading forums that suggested evening dosing.I took my first dose of Methotrexate on a Sunday night at 10 pm. Five pills and a Folic Acid chaser. The suggestion indicated that the drug would make me drowsy and perhaps nauseated, so I figured the night dose might help me sleep...and maybe I could side step the nausea. Well, kinda. Day one was uneventful. I was thrilled and hopeful, although uneasy about the harshness of the medicine. Day two was horrible. When I wasn't sleeping, I was throwing up. Every single morning for the next two weeks I felt uneasy, nauseated and I did not want to eat. Had I found the secret to weight loss? Pathetic, lonely and extremely unhealthy weight loss...? Yes.

I am not a submissive woman. Not even close. I consider myself full of grace. Quite polite. But I am not pleased when my feathers are ruffled. I felt slighted by my insurance company (get in line, right?) and for more than one reason. Not only would they not allow the medicine my Rheumatologist considered appropriate for me (Humira), they had also been altering other meds in my repertoire of prescriptions. I was quite successfully treated with Pristiq for several years for Clinical Depression, until they pulled that out from under me this year. I will never understand how this protocol is even legal! My insurance company sends me a letter explaining that Pristiq and I must end our relationship for a generic of Cymbalta. Of course, I could pay the $300 price per month on my own. No coercion there. 

So here I am. On the rollercoaster of switching depression meds (what fun!) and throwing my guts up all because of that bottom line. Grammie was not happy. So, with that grace I spoke of earlier, I called the powers that be to discuss my situation. I was clear, quite personal, concise (well, maybe not) and completely human. To my complete and utter shock, they approved the Humira. My voice was heard. 

Following the formalities that go with approvals for such things as biologics, I began Humira during the third week of June 2014.

My story continues...

Ellie








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