Don Francisco tells cautionary tale about trying to get medication while traveling | Opinion

Last month, I was invited to visit the Teletón Children’s Rehabilitation Center in San Antonio, Texas, to participate in the Teletón USA solidarity program, which will be broadcast on Dec. 16 on Univision.

Everything was going according to plan until I arrived at the hotel and realized I had forgotten the medication my doctor prescribed for me to fall asleep. I suffer from insomnia.

Lunesta is a sleep inducer that is only sold under strict medical supervision because it can be abused and create dependence.

Perhaps because of worry and anger at my forgetfulness — and the lack of my sleep aid — I was awake from 10 p.m. until 8 a.m. In my 83 years, that was the most anguish I have ever endured in one night.

I watched TV, read, turned off the light, turned it on. I got up, went back to bed, walked around the room, wrote down ideas. Nothing worked.

I waited for a reasonable hour and called my doctor in Miami to tell him about the nighttime tragedy.

I asked, almost begging: “Can you write me a prescription for a few Lunesta tablets? I’m in San Antonio, Texas. I forgot mine and I spent a horrible night without being able to sleep.”

The doctor, with some sadness, answered: “Mario, I’m sorry. I cannot give you a prescription because I am not authorized to practice medicine outside of the state of Florida.”

I asked: Could you send the prescription to a pharmacy in Miami and I would call to request delivery here in San Antonio?”

The doctor agreed. But the medication did not arrive. I called the pharmacy in Miami. The pharmacist, who knows me, said the medication could not be sent from one state to another.

I began to despair, dreading the idea of another sleepless night. I looked for options. I even thought about taking a taxi about 300 miles to the border and crossing into Nuevo Laredo, Mexico, to buy the medication there. That seems extreme and expensive. I didn’t do it.

Instead, I tried telemedicine with a local doctor in Texas who would be able to write me a prescription for a pharmacy in the city.

The kind doctor, after asking about other medications I take and verifying my mental and physical health, prescribed 30 pills of the elusive Lunesta and sent the order to the local pharmacy.

It was the end of the second day, with night approaching. To speed up the process, I stood guard at the pharmacy.

I arrived shortly before it closed and gave my name to the pharmacist, who, to my misfortune, apparently also was having a bad day. She told me without looking up that my health insurance did not accept delivery of the medication outside of Florida. I said that wasn’t a problem. If insurance wouldn’t cover it, I’d pay for it myself.

The pharmacist said even if I paid for it, she couldn’t give it to me because the prescription was on hold. At that point, the desperation on my face must have been visible. I asked her to please help me: “I only need two sleep-inducing tablets because I haven’t slept for 24 hours and I’m exhausted.”

Without looking at me, the pharmacist said: “We can’t do anything for you here.”

I called the local doctor again, who spoke to the pharmacist, saying, “This man is an elderly person and he forgot his medications in another city. Could you give him two pills, one for tonight and one for tomorrow, until his return to Miami?”

The pharmacist responded: “I already told this man and now I tell you, doctor, that I am not authorized to give you a single pill of that medication.” The doctor asked about prescribing another similar medication. The pharmacist responded that it would depend on the authorization provided by my health insurance.

The doctor then told me: “I am going to ask that they give you a different medication, called Ambien. It is similar to Lunesta. Also, I’m going to send you another inducer that doesn’t need a prescription.”

I thanked the doctor profusely, returned to the pharmacy, waited — and finally got the new medicine. I headed happily head to the hotel, hoping to sleep. That night, I took Ambien plus two melatonin gummies.

I slept like a king for just over 10 hours — and, almost in contradiction to everything that has happened, fI found waking up difficult.

What happened to me could happen to anyone and trying to find answers could be a learning experience for others. I sincerely think that something is wrong here.

What happens in cases like mine? It can happen to all of us who travel. I would like a response from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

Is something wrong, or am I the one who’s wrong?

Mario Luis Kreutzberger, also known by his stage name as Don Francisco, is a Chilean television host and formerly on the Univision network.

This story was originally published December 8, 2023 at 9:11 AM.