Does anxiety make us do stupid things? Or do our stupid actions cause anxiety?
As I roll around this spastic hamster wheel of my own creation, I realize it probably doesn’t matter. The result is the same. Utter and complete exasperation. Heart-pounding worry. Multiple imagined scenarios of worst cases.
I forgot to order my meds. Again.
Every few months, I find myself staring down the empty bottle neck of my meds.
It shouldn’t sneak up on me like this. My physician, insurance company, and I have a nice, little arrangement for ourselves. She writes the script, they fill it, I retrieve it from the mailbox. Couldn’t be any less painless.
Still, ordering the refill never fails to elude me. Night after night I extract my one and a half pills from the dwindling supply and think, Oh crap, I need to remember to request the refill tomorrow, until I scramble around like a mad woman willing time to stop and the protective powers of the pills to stretch until the next bottle arrives.
Then, there are the months, like this one, on which the prescription expires. No amount of scrambling in the world can make that zero turn over to one, two, or three. And no matter how much my world threatens to come screeching to a stop, the bare wheels of my psyche grinding against the metal tracks of everything else in my life, no one else scrambles. Pharmacies don’t scramble. Doctors don’t scramble. Their office staff certainly don’t scramble.
I am at the mercy of my anxiety-induced inability to prioritize, naturally prone tendency to procrastinate, and the procedural quagmire of the medical powers that be at their best.
Add to this dysfunctional mix my desire to switch to a different physician. Geographic and logistical factors necessitated the switch. The timing was all mine. I chewed my cud for just long enough that when I spun into action, it was time to collect vaccination records for my school-going daughter – and reach the bitter end of the last refill granted by my previous physician.
Records transferred and initial appointments scheduled but not met, I called the new office. After a hairy game of phone tag in which I finally relayed the mail-order pharmacy’s fax number, I thought the receptionist would make medicinal magic happen – only to receive a call hours later that the doctor could not, in fact, request the script since she had not yet ‘established care’. They suggested I call my ‘old’ doctor.
I did – and had a frustratingly circular conversation with Calvin. To his credit, Calvin towed the front counter company line. And probably protected my HIPAA rights. But the only one he was shielding my information from was me! ‘I see no record of any prescribed medication,’ he kept repeating. He actually told me it’s not that he didn’t think I wasn’t telling the truth. Well, thanks. He also asked if I was an active patient. No, Calvin, but neither am I an active patient at the place that is currently holding my records hostage.
I am in limbo!
I finally pleaded, ‘If I could just leave a message for the doctor. I know she’ll understand.” I knew my long-standing physician would not cause me this undue stress, especially as she was well aware of the conditions necessitating this particular prescription in the first place. She was not the gate keeper; this Calvin was.
So now I wait.
I wait for the return phone call from the doctor who technically no longer has allegiance to me – save her adherence to the Hippocratic oath. I will wait for the arrival of the plastic pouch on my doorstep when and if someone decides to fill my prescription. Or I will wait until my first appointment with my new physician to establish care and see if I suffer withdrawal in the meantime.
No worries, right? Wish that were the case when there were no more refills.
© Jennifer Butler Basile and A Canvas Of The Minds 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jennifer Butler Basile and A Canvas Of The Minds with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.