#inhaler

[my-canadian-romance]

Medical Vape Representation

[reasonsforhope]

Senators Have Pushed Big Pharma to Cap Inhaler Prices at $35–Bringing Relief to American Families

It's the second such development this year, after the price of insulin was capped recently through executive-congressional actions. 

Less than three months after U.S. Senator Tammy Baldwin and her colleagues launched an investigation into the four major American manufacturers of inhalers, three of the companies have relented, making commitments to cap costs for their inhalers at $35 for patients who now pay much more.

25 million Americans have asthma and 16 million Americans have chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), meaning over 40 million Americans rely on inhalers to breathe.

Inhalers have been available since the 1950s, and most of the drugs they use have been on the market for more than 25 years.

According to a statement from the Wisconsin Senator’s office, inhaler manufacturers sell the exact same products at a much lower costs in other countries. One of AstraZeneca’s inhalers, Breztri Aerosphere, costs $645 in the U.S.—but just $49 in the UK. Inhalers made by Boehringer Ingelheim, GlaxoSmithKline, and Teva have similar disparities.

Baldwin and her Democratic colleagues—New Mexico Sen. Ben Ray Luján, Massachusetts Sen. Ed Markey, and Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders—pressured the companies to lower their prices by writing letters to GSK, Boehringer Ingelheim, Teva, and AstraZeneca requesting a variety of documents that show why such higher prices are charged in America compared to Europe.

As a ranking member of the Senate Committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions, Baldwin recently announced that as a result of the letters they had secured commitments from three of the four to lower the out-of-pocket costs of inhalers to a fixed $35.00 rate.

“For the millions of Americans who rely on inhalers to breathe, this news is a major step in the right direction as we work to lower costs and hold big drug companies accountable,” said Senator Baldwin.

A full list of the inhalers and associated drugs can be viewed here.

It’s the second time in the last year that pharmaceutical companies were forced to provide reasonable prices—after the cost of insulin was similarly capped successfully at $35 per month thanks to Congressional actions led by the White House.

-via Good News Network, March 25, 2024

[saywhat-politics]

Young Wisconsin man dies from asthma attack after price of inhaler skyrocketed nearly $500: lawsuit

A young Wisconsin man died from an asthma attack after the price of his inhaler skyrocketed nearly $500, according to a lawsuit filed by his

Young Wisconsin man dies from asthma attack after price of inhaler skyrocketed nearly $500: lawsuit

APPLETON, Wis. -- A young Wisconsin man died from an asthma attack after the price of his inhaler skyrocketed nearly $500, according to a lawsuit filed by his family.

From birth, Cole Schmidtknecht suffered from chronic asthma that he treated with an Advair Diskus inhaler that cost him no more than $66.

That changed last year when OptumRx, a subsidiary of UnitedHealth Group, decided it would no longer cover the inhaler Schidtknecht used for a decade.

On January 10, 2024, Schmidtknecht, 22, went to his local OptumRx-Walgreens pharmacy in Appleton, Wisconsin, expecting to fill his usual prescription when he was advised by Walgreens that his medication was no longer covered by his insurance and would cost him $539.19 out of pocket, according to the lawsuit.

He was given no notice and, the lawsuit said, Walgreens did not offer him a generic alternative "and further told Cole that there were no cheaper alternatives or generic medications available."

Unable to afford the inhaler, he left the store without it.

"Over the next five days, Cole repeatedly struggled to breathe, relying solely on his old 'rescue' (emergency) inhaler to limit his symptoms, because he did not have a preventative inhaler designed for daily use," the lawsuit continued.

On January 15, 2024, Cole suffered a severe asthma attack and never woke up. He was pronounced dead January 21.

[cigarsmokinghotguys]

[macmanx]

Vlad The Inhaler

[inhalerdublinbaby]

I'm gonna hold your bicep when I say this

[kate-inthedarkness]

would you be able write a fic about getting high with the lads? maybe like with the other lasses and being elis girl?

Wait I’m actually giggling over this (and it’s not like I’ve daydreamed about this before or anything…👀)

Hopefully this is as you imagined it HAHAHA (I also put my own little twist on it so hopefully that's okay xxx)

Weed Talking — Elijah Hewson

Summary: (based off request) The guys are back from tour and you invite them and some old friends over to your childhood home. Your feelings for Elijah have been around for years, but when you get high they seem to heighten, and there’s no hiding from him…

Warnings: mentions/use of weed, a few suggestive moments and thoughts, alcohol, aggressive make out sesh.

A/N: I decided to put a bit of a spin on the request just to spice it up a little bit. Hopefully that’s okay with everyone hehehe xxx

There was something about being back in your childhood home with all of them — like the years hasn't passed at all. You'd set out blankets in the back garden, grabbed spare duvets and snacks, and someone (probably Rob) had already queued the same playlist you all used when you were seventeen.

Rob's girlfriend, Martha, and your best friend, Caoimhe, were sitting cross-legged under the fairy lights you'd strung up that afternoon, passing a joint between them while Sam and Lucy argued about whether the moon looked "mystical" or "like a bad drawing." Ryan and Josh were somewhere near the fire pit your parents fitted in about a year ago now, laughing over God knows what, and Elijah...well, Elijah was beside you.

Too close, maybe. His leg pressed lightly against yours, neither of you shifting away. The weed had hit (so did the whiskey), mellow and heavy, and your whole body felt like it was floating. But your mind — your mind was doing somersaults.

You could smell him. That same cedarwood-after-smoke scent he always carried, always just barely there. And you shouldn't notice that, shouldn't care. But the warmth pooling low in your stomach said otherwise.

"You're quiet," Elijah said suddenly, voice low like a secret.

You glanced at him. His eyes were red-rimmed and a little glassy, his curls a mess from when he kept running his hands through them. He looked unfairly good. Not even in a rockstar way — just...him. Familiar and infuriating and heartbreakingly safe.

"Just thinking," you said, blinking up at the stars like they could save you from the daydream you were slipping into.

"About?"

You should've lied. You should've said something dumb — the stars, Lucy's nonsense, or how Josh still couldn't roll a proper joint. But you were too high for that kind of finesse.

"You."

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable in the low light. "Yeah?"

You gave a half-shrug, suddenly feeling exposed. "Dunno. Just...It's weird, isn't it? How we've all known each other forever, but sometimes I look at you and it feels like I'm seeing you for the first time."

He didn't answer right away. He just stared, eyes dropping to your mouth for half a second too long, before flicking back up to your eyes.

The air thickened. Like summer heat before a thunderstorm.

"Eli," you said, voice soft, guilty even. "I probably shouldn't say any more."

"Probably not," he agreed.

Neither of you moved.

The laughter in the background faded to a blur, the music distant. Everything felt underwater. Too slow. Too much.

You imagined his hands. On your hips. On your neck. Tangled in your hair. You imagined saying fuck it and kissing him, right there, while everyone else was too stoned to care. You imagined him pulling you into his lap and whispering the things you wanted to hear but could never ask for.

You looked away,

"God," you muttered under your breath. "I need water or I'm going to say something really fucking stupid."

Elijah laughed. Quiet, low, raspy.

"I'd probably say something worse."

Your gaze snapped back to his, and this time you didn't look away.

There was something unspoken hanging there — thick, heavy, humid — suspended in the summer air and the smoke curling lazily around the two of you.

He leaned in just a little, breath brushing your ear as he whispered, "Tell me later."

Your heart stuttered.

And maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was the years of almosts. Maybe it was everything finally catching up with you.

But in that moment, your daydreams didn't feel so far from reach anymore.

—————————————————

The night had slipped into that dangerous kind of blur — too many joints lit at once, whiskey glasses way too full, everyone too relaxed, too loud, too far gone.

Caoimhe was giggling at something Josh had muttered under his breath, their shoulders pressed against yours like bookends holding you up. But across the fire, Elijah hadn't laughed in minutes.

His eyes were on you. Still.

It was relentless. His stare wasn't subtle, wasn't gentle. It burned. Possessive. Heavy. The kind of look that sank into your skin and didn't let go. He didn't care who saw it. His glass was low in his hand, fingers loose, his star ring catching the firelight — and still, all his attention was on you.

You shifted under it, tried to laugh at something Rob said, tried to focus on Martha gripping Rob's arm while she stared at him like he hung the moon just for her. But it was like Elijah's gaze was pulling at the hem of your linen button up shirt, trailing down the slope of your shoulder, setting fire to the inside of your throat.

You couldn't take it anymore.

"I—uh—water. Need some water," you said, voice too sharp, too fast. You were on your feet before anyone could respond, your steps uneven as you practically bolted into your house.

The kitchen lights were too bright. The cold water from the tap hit your glass in a hiss, and you drank it like it might save you. But it didn't. You slammed the glass down harder than you mean to, chest rising and falling like you'd run a marathon.

Head in your hands. Elbows digging into the marble counter. You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Get a grip," you whispered to yourself. "He's your friend. He's always been your friend. Just your friend."

But your body didn't feel like it got the memo. It was still humming, charged. And your mind — your mind was deeper in the gutter, imagining things that you couldn't un-imagine.

The sliding backdoor squeaked.

You didn't need to look up to know who it was.

He didn't say anything at first. Just walked in and shut the door behind him like it was nothing. Like you weren't about to combust.

When you finally looked up, he was leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his black jeans, curls messy, whiskey eyes locked on yours.

"You alright?" he asked. But he knew the answer. You could see it in his stupid, knowing smirk.

You let out a humourless laugh, still breathless. "Not really, no."

He pushed off the wall and walked toward you, slow like he was giving you a chance to run. You didn't.

"You left in a bit of a hurry," he said, voice lower now, almost careful. "Did I... do something?"

His eyes searched your face, softening just enough to make your stomach flip.

"You know you did," you whispered, too honest, too wrecked to lie. "Back there. What you said — how you said it, about me telling you what I was thinking later. You can't just... do that."

He stepped closer. You didn't move.

"I meant it. I always want to know what your thinking. I always have."

That was it.

That was the thing that broke you.

One second you were staring at him — at his flushed cheeks and parted lips, his chest rising slow like he was trying to keep it together too — and the next, your hands were in his shirt and your mouth was on his.

It was messy, immediate. Years of repressed feelings, passing glances, drunken almosts, and high-stoned fantasies crashing into one kiss that was too much and not enough at the same time.

He kissed you like he'd been waiting. Like he'd thought about it every night on every tour. Like he couldn't believe it was actually happening. His hands gripped your waist, pulled you flush against him, and you gasped into his mouth, already dizzy from everything — the weed, the whiskey, him.

His lips trailed down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make your knees weaken. Your hand tangled in his curls, the same ones you'd watched him push back over and over, wondering what they'd feel like between your fingers.

You were halfway up on the counter before either of you realised it — clothes still on, but the tension electric, skin burning. It was like every fantasy you'd buried under years of friendship had broken the surface all at once.

When he pulled back, just barely, his breath hit your lips.

"This isn't just the weed talking, right?"

You shook your head, whispering, "No, it's not."

He nodded, like that was all he needed, and kissed you again — deeper this time. Slower.

And you knew it then and there, that there was no going back after this.