Niagara Gazette — “Well, if it ain’t one dad gum thing, its two” I mumbled inside my head where no one could hear me, but it was all over my face, everyone around me could sense my frustration, we were all thinking the same thing.
After sitting in the most uncomfortable wheelchair in the world for over an hour at what must be the busiest pharmacy in the world, the absolute least friendly lady in the world informed me from behind the counter that there was something wrong with my insurance card, that she could not process my order, that I could not get the medicine the doctor had prescribed, that I should step out of line, call my insurance company, resolve my problem and get back in line again.
Having just spent the better part of the morning, most of it in the waiting rooms at another post –op appointment with the new doctor who had just a few days ago performed the fifth procedure I’ve undergone within the past few months, I was in no mood for surprises, but unlike me, the day was young, fresh and just getting started.
I’ve been at this for a while, almost a year ...
I don’t want to alarm anyone — I’m alright now, but it was kind of touch-n-go there for a minute.
At the risk of violating my own HIPPA rights, let’s just say, I made a substantial down-payment on the proverbial farm at one point, but I guess it just wasn’t my time; doctors say I’ll make a full recovery and be back solid on both feet, stronger than ever in no time, give or take a month or two, barring anymore unexpected developments.
Without sounding too much like singer Alanis Morissette (“It’s the good advice that you just didn’t take. Who would’ve thought…It figures”…Ironic) there is something ironic in what I’ve noticed and personally experienced lately.