My mantra today* has been “There’s no point in being angry. It doesn’t help anything” and repeating it ad nauseum.
For the last two weeks, I had been trying to get a prescription refill on some maintenance meds (I know, I know. I, too, remember the time before middle age and genetics caught up with me when I could jump out of bed, brush my teeth and hair, get dressed and be done.). Apparently, my mail order prescription company had my old doctor’s information on file. Understandable, since the last time the company had to refill this order was about 9 months ago and I’d moved twice in that time frame. Due to misunderstandings, people not caring and/or not doing their job and my erroneous belief that I didn’t need to intervene and screw things up even further, I ran out of an important med.
Not until I became proactive did anything get done. I was making phone calls and trying to keep a civil attitude about the situation. It was hard, and I did have a slip-up when I used a curse word when speaking to someone who, I know, had nothing to do with the foul up. I apologized profusely. That still doesn’t make up for the fact that I lost my temper and that word can now never be recalled.
So, in desperation, I called the prescription company – they were familiar with me and my situation at this point – and they told me to call me doctor so he could call in a 7-day carryover supply without any cost to me, since I was not the one who caused the problem. I did. About 10 minutes later, my short-term pharmacy is calling to let me know they can’t fill this. The insurance won’t cover it. I called the prescription company back and they said the pharmacy should be okay with, she can’t understand why they called. I called the pharmacy back and told them what prescription company said, and they said “Ooooh. A seven day holdover. Yea we can do that.”
So I jump in my car with my husband and we make the trek into Auburn. When we get there, it’s not ready. That may have been my fault – ahem! So we wait. And wait. And we finally get my meds. As we are driving home, I get another call from my temporary pharmacy telling me that they won’t be able to fill it. I tell the person that I just picked it up. The person on the other end pauses and then says “Oh, yea. I see, I see. Well you have a good day.” I hang up and my husband and I are both thinking the same thing: I immediately pulled out my prescription bottle to check if, in deed, these are the correct pills. The label looked correct, so I opened the container and pulled out a tablet and read the writing on them.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Yup. We had them.
My question, if there really is any, is why? I have decent medical and pharmaceutical coverage and I thought everyone knew their job, but apparently that wasn’t the case. And it wasn’t just one agency; it was everyone involved. Kind of gave me the willies, when you realize just how easily information can be lost or misplaced. Is it because everyone is overworked because no one can afford to hire the manpower they truly need or is it symptomatic of a deeper rooted problem? Either way, I got real mad there and now I look like the villain. At least, in the end, I got my regular ‘scrip and I lived to tell the tale…LOL!
*I started writing this post Friday, August 23rd. I stopped, because I realized that it would be one hot mess if I published it on that day. Now, August 27th, I think I can handle it!