Should MS treatments stop after age 50?

 

Maybe you’ve heard this: Plenty of multiple sclerosis doctors seem to be halting patients’ disease-modifying treatments at or after age 50. Others point to 60 as the magic age when such prescriptions may cease. The popular theory says the efficacy of such medications commonly diminishes as patients age, while the risks of continuing with the drugs may increase.

 However, recent research also reveals that up to a third of those included in the studies found their MS relapses and related disabilities increased after discontinuing their meds.

 

Holy moley. What’s a middle-aged MSer to do?

 We have to wonder whether this is an efficacy issue (for the medications), an economical one (for insurance companies), an efficiency concern (for medical providers) or perhaps an ethical one (for all of us).

 

We have to be our own advocates.

 Most definitely, each MSer needs to continue to research and learn and question his or her own care and treatment.

 Some of us may be able to stop disease-modifying treatments without suffering for it. After many years of unchanged MRIs (e.g., no new lesions), this may be an option. But this tactic is clearly not for everyone battling multiple sclerosis. Those with the most progressive forms of the disease may be least likely to benefit from such a choice.

 This simply cannot become an across-the-board standard for all MSers, regardless of health challenges, symptoms, and other conditions.

 

It’s not like the medical world can turn us out to pasture, as we age.

 Some 50-somethings (or even 60-somethings, 70-somethings, and beyond) still pursue a wide range of activities and endeavors. We may still have careers in our later years. We juggle multiple responsibilities and chase all sorts of interests.

 

Don’t let them tell you it’s all downhill from here.

 We still have mountains to climb and summits to reach. And if that means we need to continue disease-modifying therapies, then let’s make darn sure those remain available (and insurable) for us.

 

Related items:

·        Ain't nothin' pseudo about a pseudo-exacerbation

·        Beware the MS hiatus hangover

·        Changing meds: Safety tips for tossing leftover drugs

·        Reviewing the four types of multiple sclerosis

 

 Image/s: Adapted from public domain image/s.

 

 

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New doctors = New mountains of paperwork

Saw a new doctor today. Gee, I forgot how much fun that is. Actually, I think I liked the doctor, but the initial office-entry phase is a pain in the neck. Anyone with multiple sclerosis or another chronic medical condition knows the drill.

Don’t you just love the flurry of fill-in-the-blank pages that fly at you, every time you enter a new medical specialist’s office?

“Please plan to come a few minutes early for your appointment to fill out some paperwork.”

Some paperwork?

“Don’t you people share information with each other?” I wanted to shout. “Can’t we sign some authorization form to allow you to transmit basic paperwork to one another?”

Seriously. I’ve filled out Job Applications that required less detail and repetition.

Wait. What’s that sound in the distant background?

That’s right. It’s the sound of 25 trees, falling to the ground to produce several more reams of 20# white bond for new patient medical files.

“Here ya go,” chirps the cheery receptionist, passing you a sturdy clipboard with a stack of sheets attached to it. That’s right. It was a two-handed pass. That’s how heavy the thing is.

If you are an MSer (like me), you maybe even cringe a bit, as you accept the heavy clipboard. Maybe your hands are cramping or tingling today. Either way, the first appointment paperwork is a tall order.

As you heft the weighty assignment, the receptionist reminds you that yet another copy of your current insurance ID is needed. So you wrestle your card from your wallet and hand it over.

You find a seat in the waiting room and pick up the logo-imprinted clicker pen, which (of course) doesn’t work. So you check your pockets for another one and begin scrawling down your private identity information on one form, two forms, three forms …

How many times can you write your own name, address, phone number, and next of kin in one sitting?


Then you flip through 34 pages of HIPAA laws and related disclaimers. At last, you sign the final sheet, just as the nurse or med tech calls your name.

What, are they watching you scribble in your answers, just to time their summons?

Is this freshman study hall, or what?

So you stand up and follow into the inner sanctum, where the initial exam takes place.

As you kick off your shoes and step onto the dreaded Physician Scale, or perhaps as you sit and endure the torture-tight Blood Pressure Cuff, the nurse or med tech asks you if you’ve experienced any new MS issues.

Well, as a matter of fact …

Can we just be honest here and add writer’s cramp to the regular list of Multiple Sclerosis Symptoms?

Image/s:

 Adapted from public domain artwork

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Medical math: Baffled by health care billing

Medical billing has me wholly baffled.

A fairly routine medical test, which took less than an hour, supposedly cost $3,765.24. That’s what my medical insurance claim summary report says. It’s listed right under the “Provider Charges” heading.

The very next column lists “Allowed Amounts” and this magic number: $532.67.

Finally, the “Patient Share” figure is listed: $103.52.

Let’s summarize, shall we?

• Hospital claims:   $3,765.24
• Insurance accepts:  $532.67
• Patient must pay:    $103.52

Sorry, wrong number.

It just doesn't add up!

Where do they come up with this stuff? One thing is clear: The cost is not the cost. In fact, there seems to be no hard-and-fast actual cost at all. (OK, that's not clear at all.)

Who would ever pay the full price, anyway? And who taught these guys to do basic math? (Don’t get me started on the Common Core thing.)

Maybe someone needs to go back to Square One. Perhaps the hospital accountants need to have their heads examined. I wonder what that would cost … and who would pay for it.

Many have claimed there’s strength in numbers. After seeing my medical bill, I beg to differ. One plus one equals ... what?

Image/s:

 Adapted from public domain artwork

Feel free to follow on Google Plus and Twitter.  You are invited to join the Kicking MS to the Curb page on Facebook and the Making the Most of MS board on Pinterest as well.