NB There will be a ton of links in this post. Most of them refer to back-story and extra info. They don’t need to be read to get the basic idea of the story, but some of the links go to funny pictures, or other people’s blogs. Click or don’t click, whatever.
After battling a cold, which developed into a sinus infection, I was happy to finally have some anti-biotics to take to combat the infection. I took one pill the night that I got the medicine, and I took a second one the next morning, though I was feeling as if I had just eaten a pound of the Grade D meat they serve at Taco Bell.
I left my apartment and got into my car. As I was checking my sideview mirror to see if traffic was clear, I noticed that the side-view mirror housing was gone. I recalled that I had passed a large hunk of plastic some 20 feet before I had reached my car. I got out of my car, recovered the plastic, and determined that yes, some fuckwit had hit my side mirror with such force that the housing had cracked off at the frame, and had been propelled a rod’s length, or 1/40 of a furlong. My mirro would jiglle at the slightest breeze, and at a mere 15mph or higher, the mirror would point either straight down or straight up.
When I got into work, after driving in the right lane the whole time because my mirror was useless, I was still feeling pretty crappy. Usually this is no big deal. I can sit at work and blog, and do my work as it crosses my desk. Unfortunately this morning I was given a project by the Boss of the company that was fairly complicated, tedious, and time-consuming. I couldn’t take it easy, and by the time I finished the project (with kudos from the Boss’ assistant, I might add) it was lunch time. I wasn’t really hungry because I was still nauseous, so I used the time off to goof around on the net, and catch up on my blog reading. In the middle of reading one of HeroineGirl’s posts I started to have a sharp pain in my chest, and some dizziness.
I checked the allergy warnings on the medication I was taking, and yup, there it was: chest pain and dizziness were allergic reactions. So was a rash. I checked my arms, and they were turning pink.
My quack doctor couldn’t kill me with penicillin, so she was going to do it with Septra. (Admittedly, I should have checked the bag first to see what I was taking. It was Bactrim, which is just like Septra, to which I am allergic. I had forgotten that I was allergic to septra because I haven’t taken an anti-biotic since I was 7. I’m generally in very good health.)
The reaction I was having to the medication was potentially the beginning stages of Stevens-Johnson syndrome, that Kmart’s sister, LilMeggi, had not too long ago.
But, I didn’t know what was wrong with me yet, so I went to Health Services on campus. I was skipped over triage because I know people who work there, and saw a doctor right away. After I explained my symptoms the doctor suggested that I was depressed, anxious, having an allergic reaction to food, or having acid reflux. (What is it with me and getting poor medical attention?) After the doctor left the RNs that I knew took pity on me and checked my blood pressure, which was high, and gave me an EKG, which was normal. (I knew my blood pressure was high because I’m a junkie for those blood pressure machines at drug stores. I always test myself at least twice to see if I can willingly lower my heart rate. This is one of those little things that makes life nice for me, like car washes.) When I left they took my insurance information, so I’m sure to be charged for that.
When I got back to my office I called my mom. It was then that she helped me remember I was allergic to Septra. Not wanting to go back to Health Services, and following the advice on the prescription bag that told me I was having an allergic reaction, I called my quack doctor. Luckily she wasn’t there, so I spoke to one of her co-practioners. I explained that I had taken septra, that I was allergic, explained my symptoms and asked what I should do. She told me that I should be fine, but if it got worse to go to the ER. I couldn’t wait to see those hunk doctors, Noah Wyle, and George Clooney. It would be cool to see Anthony “Mother Goose” Edwards, but it would be better if Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer were with him. (I hadn’t been to the ER since I had slipped on the steps as a kid. When my mom told me I would need stiches I said, “But my head won’t fit in the sewing machine.” She tried not to laugh so she wouldn’t drive into traffic.)
Moments later my phone rang again. The doctor told me that I should go to the hospital right away, and she told me not to wait. She told me not to drive, and she asked me if she needed to call an ambulance for me. I told her I would try to get a ride, and if I couldn’t I would call an ambulance.
I debated on whether or not to go to the hospital. After all, I felt bad, but I didn’t feel hospital bad. Plus, I’m poor, and I had no idea how much it would cost to go. I called my mom and asked her opinion. She told me that my hospital stay would be covered by insurance since I was referred by the doctor (we are insured by the same company). So I asked her if she could take me. She called my dad, and he said he would be right over to pick me up.
Then I put up the post about going to the hospital.
Meanwhile, ACWGF called and asked how I was. I laughed and told her that I was going to the hospital. She had an itsy-bitsy freak out, and told me that she was coming up, and she would meet me at the hospital. By the time my dad picked me up, ACWGF was already at the hospital and waiting for us.
Waiting was the theme for the evening after that. I waited 30 minutes to be seen by a doctor. Then I waited 15 minutes to fill out paperwork. It took another 15 minutes to fill out the paperwork, then the receptionist’s computer crashed, and I had to wait another 30 minutes for the IT guy to come and fix the computer so I could walk the health care agreement across the hall to the doctor.
The doctor gave me a handfull of pills (benadryl, a new anti-biotic, steroids, two more anti-histamines, and pepcid for the chest pain, and because it’s a histamine H2-receptor antagonist) and a cup of water. I have no idea how much that grab bag of health candy will cost me, but I’m sure it won’t be cheap since I don’t have perscrition coverage.
Speaking of perscriptions, I was given an rx for steroids, an rx for pepcid, an rx for the anti-biotic, and told to buy some benadryl if I thought I would need it. So I drove to the rx counter at the local grocery store, staying in the right lane the whole time because my mirror was still fucked.
I waited for an hour to get my perscription, and the pharmacist told me that I couldn’t get a refund, or even a discount, for the pills that I had gotten from them yesterday, even though they had the potential to kill me. And although Maryland was at one point, and maybe still is, the most litigious state in the nation, I decided not to sue the grocery store back to the stone age. I probably wouldn’t have had a case anyway.
As I pay for my new rx, I add everything up in my head.
5$ quack doctor visit + 15$ pills of death + $$? for the health services visit + $$? for the EKG + $$? for the hospital (if my mom was wrong) + $$? for the pills at the hospital + 15$ pepcid + 50$ rx for the new antibiotic (four pills worth, by the way) that’s so fresh on the market that it doesn’t yet have a generic replacement + whatever I may have forgotten.
It was at that point that I realized that all day long I had been trying to figure out if I could afford all of my health care. I was trying to figure out what I would need to cut out. How much could I skimp and still live? If you’ve never been in this position, it sucks. I think we should have universal socialized health care for that very reason. a-b-c-dee or Lexagirl can chime in on this issue, as they have more experience with it.
When I finally got home I was starved and exhausted, and I had been in the right lane the whole time because I couldn’t merge left because of my fucked up mirror, so Kmart bought me a burrito from Chipotle. I’ve never been more attracted to him. Not it the way you’re thinking. I meant gay-man penis-to-butt/penis-to-mouth sex.
In the end, I’m better, I have a new doctor, and a colorful wonderland of pills to take at multiple times of the day, and what will probably turn out to be the most expensive cure for a sinus infection that the world has ever known. But hey, if you don’t have your health, what the hell do you have?
