December 21, 2011 — a day that will live in infamy. Contrary to the opinion of some, I am not a grump. I chat with people while waiting in line. I talk to the clerks and find something complimentary to say. I worked in retail and know that a kind word can help a day. Today? Stay out of my way. I am ready to open a window and start shouting what I will no longer take.
It started out at the home center. I had a single reason to be there. At the stroke of a midnight hence, you will not only get the cloying notes of Guy Lumbardo but will no longer be able to buy standard light bulbs. Contrary to myth, the $3 ones don’t last for years when they are in an outdoor light. Neither do they last in the john where they experience multiple on/off cycling. But we have a green congress and a greener white house. I guess that makes it the Lime House.
So, I was also annoyed with the medical profession and myself and well, go down the list there. I was running out of my hypertension meds. Not wanting to bust gaskets, I had to find a scrip. The old doctor was out. So, I went to one of those corporate mills. I thought I’d get in and out without hassle. So, I fill out the stupid paperwork — including that I wasn’t planning on taking my life in three different places. Good thing they didn’t ask about going Rambo in a medical clinic.
So, I get all that accomplished — we are one hour into it. I am waiting for the doctor and see the sign.
No refills on normal meds — limit supply to 90 days and must return
Standard daily meds can get a 2 week “emergency” refill beyond the 90 days
So I get to see who I came for. This is a Nurse Practitioner. I tell her I want a 1 year scrip or I will need to find another “caregiver”. She says that Family Practice people might accommodate but their type of practice — assembly line doctoring, I guess — is constrained by law. I said I’d sign a waiver and that got sneered at. I said that I consider her view had nothing to do with that oath and that it was at best an annoyance and at worst an abusive lack of respect.
My mother controlled my life when a child. Mom, can I have 50-cent to go to the show Saturday? EAT YOUR BROCCOLI! I outgrew that era and had 40 or so years of being my own man. Then medicare hit. Mom was gone and I’d even grown to like broccoli. But, I was in the grasp of an evil bureaucracy that I need Mom to straighten out. “Not to my boy…”
The medical profession, like congress, does not believe I have a decision and they have the final say. Wrong! You can tell me my options. You can tell me the one I am choosing is possibly the stupidest decision ever made on the planet. It is still mine to make. Your denying me the medication that does good and doesn’t leave me suicidal, watching my liver fall out, or keeping me excited over 4 hours but just keeps my blood pressure in check isn’t a privilege to grant or deny. I’ve been taking it for 5 years and it keep me close to 120/80. And this asshole outfit say come back every 90 days or blow a gasket — your choice. NO! I’ll start photoshoping, before it comes to that. If I get caught, they can throw me in jail and then they have to provide the med.
P.S. The stores were a wall to wall zoo too.