Sigh. If only I wasn't an honest gal.
I just transferred all my prescriptions, including Enbrel, to a CVS down here in Baltimore. I went to pick them up after work today, and after getting confirmation that they were ready, I didn't pay much attention as the pharmacist got the Enbrel boxes out of the fridge. I paid for the drugs, and then grabbed the bag she had put the Enbrel in, which seemed rather gigantic and filled to the brim. Given that I'd thrown my other two smaller prescriptions in my purse, I peered into the bag curiously only to find a massive stash of eight Enbrel boxes, each with four syringes, staring back at me.
Oh, the torture. I was so tempted to just take off. I mean, that's like handing a junkie real heroin instead of methadone, or a reformed bank robber a bag of unmarked cash. And given that my insurance is about to switch and I'll have to go through the entire pre-authorization process again AFTER finding a new rheumy, it was particularly heartwrenching to turn back around and tell the pharmacist there was some kind of mistake.
She didn't even believe me at first, thinking that it was my error, and she actually said there was only one syringe per box. Luckily, before my greed could get the better of me, she figured out that wasn't the case and took the extra SIX boxes back.
Sigh. It would have been like Christmas coming early. Or winning some kind of chronic illness jackpot.