The last straw

So a week or so ago, I called the pharmacy for refills on my three meds–Meloxicam, Armour Thyroid and Lexapro. Pharmacy did refills on the Meloxicam and the Lexapro, but not the thyroid medication. They said they needed to contact my doctor’s office (fine, whatever) to confirm it was OK to give me a refill.

Doctor’s office never called back, so they continued to try and contact them. Finally, yesterday morning (even though they were closed) they sent the doctor’s office one last fax. Doctor’s office called back today and said they can’t do a refill. Pharmacy informs Hubs of this when he goes to pick up my other medications, so he calls the doctor’s office fully expecting them not to even pick up the phone. It turns out they want me to come in for blood work (which isn’t even due up for a freaking month, y’all) and I told Hubs I don’t care who he finds for me as a doctor…I don’t care if they’re male, female or a freaking three headed alien from Mars.

I am DONE with this doctor’s office. It took them a week to call the fucking pharmacy back and tell them they’re not giving me a refill. They probably wouldn’t have said anything or called me to let me know I need to have blood  work done, either. As it is, I already don’t want to go there for blood work because the last time I did, they were out of butterfly needles and had no idea when they were going to get them in because they’re basically incompetent (seems like, anyway) about ordering supplies. When I asked for a couple of Xanax to get me through the blood work at an outside place that JUST does blood work, the doctor treated me like I was a fucking drug seeker. I’m sorry if the fact that blood work tends to make me hyperventilate, shake, throw up and pass out and that it’s inconvenient for you. Believe me, I wish it didn’t happen to ME either. It’s the worst kind of not fun. I do take small comfort in knowing that I shocked the fuck out of your nurse though when I told her exactly what tends to happen when I have blood work done. That was kinda fun, in a petty sort of way.



2 thoughts on “The last straw

    1. I know how and why I’m terrified of goes back to an incident when I was a toddler when my mom and a nurse ended up holding me down while a doctor jammed a needle into my neck. Knowing the how and why doesn’t make it any easier to get over it though. 😦


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