To Eureka Family Practice
Okay. It’s bad enough that it took you all a year to diagnose my gall bladder disease. And then you told me that, even though I was forty and wanted no more children, I was too young to have a hysterectomy despite the fact I was in massive pain every month. It’s bad enough that every, single Nurse Practitioner and one doctor I’ve seen in the last three years is GONE. But this? This was the last fucking straw.
My ear hurts. A lot. The only thing that will drag me into the doctor is SEVERE pain. I hate the doctor. I can’t swallow. Eating hurts. I’m close to going to the ER, but I don’t want to take my non-critical cold into the emergency room. So, I call you.
Yep. I have an ear infection. A bad one. Needs antibiotics. Three times a day for ten days. Right. Codeine cough syrup and we’re good. I ask “Is there anything I need to do for my prescriptions? Or are you going to call it in?”
Nurse Practitioner says “Nope. We’ll call it in. You pick it up.”
“Today, right?” It’s Friday at 4:30pm. I thought I’d better ask.
“Yes, today. Go up to the front and make an appointment for a full physical.”
I go up front. Make my appointments. And then I ask, “And you’ll call in my prescriptions?”
“To the Fortuna Rite Aide?”
“That’s what we have here.”
I leave, drive to Fortuna and head into Rite Aide for the relief that is going to get me through setting up for The Pinewood Derby and the early morning the next day for the Derby races.
They’re not there.
Call Eureka Family Practice. Talk to their on call doctor.
“You call tomorrow at 8:30 and I’ll fix you up. There’s no way I can do it tonight.”
*sigh* “Right. I’ll call tomorrow.”
Next morning. 8:30 call. Get the call center. They’re not there yet. 8:40 call. Put on hold. Call dropped. After that? I was too busy trying to check in cars, coordinate the races and doing the Pinewood Derby.
1pm. Finally finished cleaning up and I’m able to call. They’re all gone.
Talk to on call doctor who says “You’ll have to wait till Monday.”
YOU fucked up. YOU didn’t call in my meds. I shouldn’t have to chase them down. YOU screwed me out of SOME kind of relief this weekend. As a result of YOUR mistake, I spent the whole weekend on 800mg of Ibuprofen. The only relief I got was when I drank enough whiskey to kill the pain.
I can NOT believe you call yourself health professionals. You don’t take pain very seriously. And you don’t seem to realize some of us can still do what we have to do even when it hurts like a mothuh fucka.
Edited To Add: Turns out you sent the prescription to Greens. Also, your office manager has just saved you from long term resentment.
To The Redneck
Reason #445 That My House Smells Like Dog Pee
The Redneck: Puppy! NO!
Me: What’s he doing?
The Redneck: I just caught him peeing.
The Redneck. He only peed a little bit.
Me: But WHERE?
The Redneck: *shrugs* Idunno.
To My Cub Scout Committee
You guys are AWESOME. Especially you, Cindy. Saturday was actually kind of fun.
God, I’ve missed you honey.