So I’m almost out of blood pressure medicine and I need my prescription refilled. You wouldn’t believe the song and dance.
First they wanted to give me only a two weeks’ supply, so that in about ten days I could start the torment all over again. Then they said okay, three months–but you’ve got to have blood work done before you get your refill. So I went in this morning for the blood work.
That’s when they told me I’d have to do this every three months if I wanted my blood pressure medicine–“It’s our policy.”
I always get angry when I hear that. “I don’t care about your stupid policy!” I’m afraid I raised my voice. “No one in North America gets blood work every three months! I won’t do it!” So they said every six months would suffice. It should probably be only every twelve months, but I’ll fight that battle later.
After they took my blood, I was just about to go when they decided they ought to take my blood pressure, too. “But I’m already mad,” I pointed out, “and I haven’t taken my medicine yet today.” Well, they took my pressure anyway. And would you believe it? It was rather high.
“This is no way to treat high blood pressure–driving the patient crazy,” I protested. Yeah, yeah. Tee-hee. Supposedly now they will refill my prescription by the weekend, at which time I will have run out of what’s left. I made them promise. I made them write it down. Which probably means they’ll forget, so I’ll have to phone them Friday.