Unlike most other prescriptions, Humira comes to your front door. While this is somewhat a practical issue as it needs to be refrigerated, I suspect that it was also part of the deal the pharmaceutical company struck with the NHS to justify its extortionate cost.
This should be a convenient perk. 'Should' being the operative word. More times than not, it's more trouble than it's worth.
Every time the company in question rings to arrange delivery date, it goes rather like the call I had at 8:45am on Easter Monday. Firstly, I was not amused about being woken up mid-dream on a Bank Holiday. She starts with the usual pleasantries, then 'security questions' to ensure that I am who I say I am. Once we get through that, she says, 'We'll deliver on X date between 8 and 6'.
Thing is, X date is always a weekday when I'm at work. I do have some flexibility in working from home, however, I don't have full control over my work schedule as people put things in my schedule without checking with me first, and they are often non-negotiable. 'Sorry,' I say. 'I can't do X date. Can you do some time this week instead of next, as it's quiet at work?' 'Sorry,' she says. 'We have no delivery drivers this week.' None?!
'Well, I can do Y date next week'. 'Sorry, but we have no drivers in your area that day, we can only do X date next week, otherwise it's the week after.' 'Um, I'm due for my next injection before then'. 'Sorry, it's needs to be X date.' 'Well, I can't be there during a window as big as between 8 and 6.' 'We can deliver it to you workplace'.
While this may seem like a sensible compromise, I work in a massive office that shares a handful of refrigerators. All of these are consistently packed full of various pints of milk and milk substitutes for tea (this is England, after all), leftover lunches if various states of neglect, and random items that don't always make sense (last week was a quarter of an unwrapped raw red onion, next to a Cadbury creme egg). They are so over packed, that half the time the doors don't shut, so I am always throwing an ice pack in my lunch bag as I can never trust those fridge to keep things cold. Honestly, I think workplace fridges are one of the most unhygienic places in the developed world. I used to work in an office where the work fridge was so vile, that we all used to joke that we needed to invite the microbiologists who worked at the research hospital across the road to investigate it, as we were all sure it was accidentally growing the cure for something in there.
Do you really think I am going to put £2000 worth of medication into that?!
Only after explaining that does she say, 'Oh, we can deliver this Saturday'. Why didn't you say so in the first place?!
So, last Saturday it was. 'Do you need a new sharps bin?, she asks. Well, who wouldn't want a new sharps bin, they are all the rage, you know!
I said yes, because my current one is getting full.
This should be a convenient perk. 'Should' being the operative word. More times than not, it's more trouble than it's worth.
Every time the company in question rings to arrange delivery date, it goes rather like the call I had at 8:45am on Easter Monday. Firstly, I was not amused about being woken up mid-dream on a Bank Holiday. She starts with the usual pleasantries, then 'security questions' to ensure that I am who I say I am. Once we get through that, she says, 'We'll deliver on X date between 8 and 6'.
Thing is, X date is always a weekday when I'm at work. I do have some flexibility in working from home, however, I don't have full control over my work schedule as people put things in my schedule without checking with me first, and they are often non-negotiable. 'Sorry,' I say. 'I can't do X date. Can you do some time this week instead of next, as it's quiet at work?' 'Sorry,' she says. 'We have no delivery drivers this week.' None?!
'Well, I can do Y date next week'. 'Sorry, but we have no drivers in your area that day, we can only do X date next week, otherwise it's the week after.' 'Um, I'm due for my next injection before then'. 'Sorry, it's needs to be X date.' 'Well, I can't be there during a window as big as between 8 and 6.' 'We can deliver it to you workplace'.
While this may seem like a sensible compromise, I work in a massive office that shares a handful of refrigerators. All of these are consistently packed full of various pints of milk and milk substitutes for tea (this is England, after all), leftover lunches if various states of neglect, and random items that don't always make sense (last week was a quarter of an unwrapped raw red onion, next to a Cadbury creme egg). They are so over packed, that half the time the doors don't shut, so I am always throwing an ice pack in my lunch bag as I can never trust those fridge to keep things cold. Honestly, I think workplace fridges are one of the most unhygienic places in the developed world. I used to work in an office where the work fridge was so vile, that we all used to joke that we needed to invite the microbiologists who worked at the research hospital across the road to investigate it, as we were all sure it was accidentally growing the cure for something in there.
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| This is the inside of one of our workplace fridges. On a week when half the office is on annual leave. |
Do you really think I am going to put £2000 worth of medication into that?!
Only after explaining that does she say, 'Oh, we can deliver this Saturday'. Why didn't you say so in the first place?!
So, last Saturday it was. 'Do you need a new sharps bin?, she asks. Well, who wouldn't want a new sharps bin, they are all the rage, you know!
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| The latest in home accessories |
So, I intended to spend Saturday in, waiting. I figured I would roast a piece of turkey I had taken out of the freezer. And the driver showed up at 9:45. I'm not complaining that he showed up early, but it was outside of the 2 hour window of 10:58 to 12:58 (seriously they text me at 8 am that morning), which is a regular occurrence. I was told once a driver would show up between 10:59 am and 12:59 pm. He showed up at 8:45pm. And I have no idea why the company sends times that end in :58.
He hands me the paperwork and the bag with the needles from the refrigerated van. 'No sharps bin?' I ask. 'Did you order one?' he asks.'Yep,' I say. 'Not you too,' he says. 'You're the third one today who didn't get one'. 'Glad I didn't lock the old one then', I say. 'I don't know what's with this company,' he says. 'They keep messing things up. I'm thinking of quitting, they've become so rubbish as an employer'. So naturally, I share my scheduling tale of woe and tell him what dealing with them is like as a patient. We commiserated and parted ways.
Good to know that it isn't only me who whose frustrated with them.
