I read this story with great joy:
Up until four months ago, Lev was self-harming until he was black and blue, unable to make eye contact and keeping to himself in a corner all day. He was inching dangerously close to being confined by a punishing helmet and sedated with heavy antipsychotic meds to mitigate his severe autism that left him incapable of functioning by himself.
The outlook was bleak for the tormented tyke, who showed symptoms before he was a year old.
His parents, Gabriella and Matthew Bielski, chased every therapeutic intervention and specialist across the country for years, to no avail. The family desperately needed a lifeline, as no medication is approved to address the core symptoms related to autism.
That was until research led the anguished couple to Yamo Pharmaceuticals, a decade-old clinical-stage biopharmaceutical company dedicated to treating the core symptoms of autism spectrum disorder with its “miracle drug” called L1-79.
They managed to get Lev the therapy before FDA approval thanks to the FDA’s expanded-access program — and the results, they said, were immediate.
“It was the next day,” Matthew Bielski said. “It was right away and other people in all the phases said the same thing.”
“It changed everything for us,” he added, beaming over Lev’s “life-changing transformation.”
Overjoyed over his “miracle kid,” Bielski predicted the drug will be the “Ozempic of autism.”
Which is when my joy abruptly ended.
You see, it’s all very well to come up with a new miracle drug which helps perhaps millions of people. That’s what Ozempic did — and promptly priced its product out of reach for many millions of people (like myself) who desperately need it.
So hooray hurrah and halleluya for this latest wonder drug. Let’s just hope that Yamo doesn’t price it at $650 per dose*, like Ozempic’s manufacturer Novo Nordisk did.
Because otherwise this will all be for nothing, and only the wealthy will benefit.
*That $650 is what Ozempic would cost me after Medicare has paid the bulk of the pharmaceutical company’s price. Needless to say, I don’t take it anymore — just can’t afford it — and the dolorous effect of diabetes on my health has recurred. Bitter? You bet your ass I am.