Toying with the Mentally Unstable

First of all, not all my posts will be about antidepressants.  Probably.  Really it depends on how well they're working, to be honest.  So just quit whining about it.  Nobody's making you read this stuff, ok?

Yesterday was what we call a Bad Day.  By Bad I mean sort of hilarious, if you're not me, but I am me, so Bad.  I'm going to tell you a story about my healthcare provider but I'm not going to name the healthcare provider in question, mostly because I'm going to drop so many unsubtle hints that you'll know exactly who I'm talking about, but pretend you don't just because.

So I chose to use the "mail-order" prescription refill option to refill my Zoloft rather than driving myself to the pharmacy and picking it up in person because I do not enjoy standing in line at pharmacies with my children and I do enjoy receiving drugs in the mail, and I didn't do the math to figure out how many days this would take vs. how many pills I had left, because math isn't really my thing, and the end result of all this was that I ran out of pills long before the new ones were due to arrive.  I blame math.

Really all I wanted to do was reroute my prescription, since it hadn't even been mailed yet, to the pharmacy so I could pick it up in person.  First I called my healthcare provider's advice line.  This is always step 1 with them because it's basically the only phone number they'll give you, ever, even if you're dying.  So I called them and explained that I refilled it last week and their website says it's still "being processed."  And I've now been without for 4 days and hello, I am mentally unstable, people! I could be balanced precariously on a ledge right now. 

And the advice line lady is like, "Well...what doctor prescribes it?"  And this is a trick question because the website shows that the medication was prescribed by one "Barbara Tate," a person I have never met or heard of.  So that's what I say and the lady is like, "Well, do you want me to call Barbara Tate?"

And I'm like, "Isn't it your job to know who to call? I don't know. My doctor is Enrique Young.  Call him."

"But he didn't prescribe the medication."

"But I don't know Barbara Tate!  Shouldn't you know who Barbara Tate is?  Maybe she's a nurse in his office.  Or a nurse from the hospital because somebody prescribed this for me while I was there giving birth."

"So who do you want me to call?" 

Then I banged my head against my desk a few times and then I said, "Who do you want to call?  Who can get me a bottle of pills today?"  And she said, "Dr. Young is out of the office.  Do you see Dr. Garrison?"

"Yes.  Dr. Garrison used to be my ob/gyn until she switched offices but whatever, if you can call her and she'll send me my meds, by all means, call her."

"Well, you need to make up your mind, because once I put the request into our system it cannot be undone and you can't change your mind about which doctor you want to handle your request."

"Again...this is not my decision.  I don't care who you call.  Call somebody who can fill my prescription today."

"I'll put in the request to Dr. Garrison.  She'll call you today or tomorrow."

Then I hung up and screamed, and then I went online and attempted to email Dr. Young, only to find he's on vacation (I think advice line lady might have mentioned this, I'm not sure anymore).

Then I emailed Dr. Garrison and just for good measure, Sue Banyon, a nurse in the ob/gyn department who is also on my list of people I'm allowed to email.  I sent all 3 of these people identical emails explaining the urgency of the situation.  Depressed patient...no meds.  Yes, it's my own fault (or math's fault), but at this point can we all just work together to fix it so nobody gets hurt?  My friend Ashley texted me: "Tell them you're not THRIVING."

Then I found another phone number hidden in the depths of the website so I called it, and got an operator, and explained the entire situation, and she said "Couldn't your doctor's office help you?" and I said "IF YOU HAVE THEIR PHONE NUMBER BY ALL MEANS GIVE IT TO ME AND I WILL CALL THEM!" and she said "I'm just an operator.  Who's your doctor?"  and I said "Dr. Young" and she said "Oh, he has a call center.  Hang on, I'll connect you" and she transferred me to...THE ADVICE LINE.  So I hung up.  And texted Ashley, "This would be funny if I wasn't so shaky and sweaty and paranoid that life is out to get me."

Then I got an email from Dr. Garrison saying she had called it in and it would be at the pharmacy today.  Then ten minutes later I got a phone call from Dr. Young's office (they have a phone!  I knew it!) saying that since he's on vacation Dr. Somebody Else read my email (confidentiality breach?) and called it in and it'll be at the pharmacy today.  So at this point I'm thinking I have at least 2 bottles waiting at the pharmacy, maybe 3 if Sue Banyon comes through, and maybe one in the mail.  So I figure I'm stocking up.  For the zombie apocalypse.  Or for the next time math tries to destroy me.

But I guess I'm on my own come the apocalypse because when I finally made it, shaking and dizzy, to the pharmacy at 9:30 p.m., how many bottles of Zoloft do you think were there waiting for me?  If you guessed any, you guessed wrong!  In spite of both doctors' offices assuring me they had called their respective prescriptions in to this pharmacy, the pharmacist tells me it was sent to the other pharmacy across town, the one that closed 3 hours ago.  Of course it was. 

You'll be happy to hear that I looked just crazy enough last night to move the pharmacist to swift action, and he managed the heroic feat of putting 30 pills into a bottle and selling it to me even though the computer told him not to, so I am officially medicated once more.  Bring on the zombies.