DVT's & Stupid People

It's ineluctable.  I am not in charge of a sexy, thrilling, exotic life.  It's been 20 years since I had sex . . . with a girl.  That's something else to discuss at a later time.

I wrote, "I used to be young, hot, and brave, but now I'm old, fat, and scared."  That's also a truthful statement.  I quit cold turkey, everything I once loved that was bad . . . drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, and pornography.  I derived much pleasure from those appetites, pursuits, and vices.  Yes, it's true, I turned to Jesus.  Can't go wrong there.  But my struggle with my attitude, anger, profanity, et cetera, ensues.  That's just the tip.

Now I got something new that effing bothers me.  Yesterday I spent 5 hours in the local emergency room.  I felt some discomfort in my lower right leg, and it was swollen.  Of course, you all ready flippin' know what I am talking about.  I had a blood clot. After the ultrasound and meetings with the doctor and nurse, they discharged me and sent  me off to snag my Xarelto at the local pharmacy I use.  And I just knew there was going to be another problem.  I don't possess the greatest insurance.  

Annoyed, hungry, and tired I pulled up to the drive-through window where I encountered some kind of perturbing adult female muppet.  I told her I needed my Xarelto the ER doctor called in.  So she gets on the mike and the intercom system which produces that vexing AM radio sound.  She was far too joyful, jovial, and jocular for me.  Immediately, I just wanted to tell her to put a dimmer switch on it.  I told her I needed my medicine, and, of course, there was a problem. 

She was talking to me and looking at her computer screen when she said, "Oh! I think we have a problem." 

I asked her, "what?!"

She responded, "You are going to need prior authorization for this!  You need to get that from your primary care physician."  

"No shit," I felt like belting out.

"I need that medicine.  Just get me 10 pills, and I'll pay cash," I said, "For the time being."

"The script is like 1,300 dollars, and I'm not sure we have it in stock. I'll go check."

So now I'm waiting on her keister for 10 minutes as I'm checking the time to see if my doctor's office will still be open.  Finally, she returns.

"No, I'm sorry, we don't have that in stock," she said.

"Well, when are you gonna get it?"

"Oh, we won't get that until your authorization goes through.  At that point we'll order it for you," she exclaimed.

So I peeled out and headed for home, angrier than ever. I called my doctor and the office was not only closed, but they would remain closed for another day.  I couldn't wait 48 hours on this DVT.  So I reached the doctor on call, and he was kind enough to place an order for Warfarin.  

At 9:30 I drove back to Walgreens, parked the car, and darted inside to pick up my script.  That's when I ran into that same wingnut.  There she was standing on the other side of the counter with a big smile plastered across her face without a care in the world.

"Weren't you here before? I mean at the drive-through?" she asked.

I sighed and took a deep breath.  "Yes, I was. I'm here for my script."

"I think you need prior authorization for that?" she said.

"No, I had a new doctor call in a new script for me," I said.

"Yeah, that's the one you need a prior for," she said.

"Look! This isn't Xarelto we're talking about.  The doctor on call called in Warfarin for me an hour ago," I said.

Finally, a glimpse of fucking daylight!

"Oh, let me check."

So she started fumbling around in those grey bins looking for it, but to no avail.  Someone else helped her locate it.  Finally, I got the medicine without further incident.  

And that, dear friends, is the story with that.  'Better ways to spend a Tuesday.

I really shouldn't have been so impatient, bumptious, and angry, but I just was.  The whole freakin' day got under my skin.

As for her, God bless that poor creature at Walgreens!


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