Automated Hell

Automated Hell
  
 

As a menopausal middle-aged woman I take a number of daily prescriptions that my health care providers have told me I will be on “for the rest of my life.” The idea that I take a pill when I wake up and two when I go to bed does not really bother me, that is until it is time for my prescription to be renewed.  

Needing to get my blood work done in order to get my medication renewed keeps me to a fairly tight schedule for having my annual physical. The only problem is that I get my blood drawn and my doctor sends it to a lab to be analyzed. I can’t leave the doctor’s office with a physical paper prescription because he has to wait for the test results to know what dosage I should get. “Don’t worry, the pharmacy will take care of it,” I am told. Not exactly.  

Earlier this week I noticed one of my pill bottles was down to about four pills left. I called the automated phone system at my pharmacy to order my next 90 day supply. “That prescription is not refillable. We will contact your health care provider.” I have heard that message before. Sometimes it works, but when it doesn’t … well all I can say is it is amazing you did not see me on the news tonight wrecking a store.

I called the automated system yesterday and learned my doc had still not responded to the pharmacy request. I called and talked to a live person who said they had sent the e-scrip, a secret way pharmacies and doctors do things now, they had also faxed a request and called and gotten no where. The Pharma tech asked me if I would call my Doctor.

That is the worst thing that could happen. Calling the office meant nineteen automated levels of hell, having to listen to the entirety of each menu before pushing the numeral of my choice, since “Menus have changed,” to then be told prescription refills take 48 hours and no person will possibly call you back for 48 hours. I almost broke down and pushed the numeral for “A baby is coming out of my vagina right now,” but that would just get me to 911.

After leaving multiple messages and pushing varying combinations of menu buttons I finally got a live person who I told my tale of woe to, “Yes, I see the request for the Prescription that came in four days ago and has not been approved yet.” This woman was actually embarrassed for the lack of attention to the simple request and got my nurse.

“Yes, your results were all fine,” she told me.  

“I know, I got the results last month after my exam,” I said through gritted teeth.  

“I’ll call your prescription in.”

“Thank You.”

An hour later I got a call from another person at my Doc’s. “We sent your prescription.”

“Thank You.” I thought it was already done, but I did not say anything.

Three hours later I went to the store to pick it up.  

“We don’t have your prescription from your Doctor.”

“What the %$^&!”

“Maybe they left it on the voice mail.”

“I’ll shop for a few minutes so you can find it. Two different people told me they sent it.”

Twenty minutes later I came back. No scrip. I have not been on blood pressure medicine before this; perhaps I now need a fourth prescription.

I called my Docs office and left an irate message on the line that only gets listened to every 48 hours. I will be dead by the time they listen to it.

The sweet pharmacist promised she would call them directly through the special bat line they actually answer when another doctor or pharmacist calls. Three hours later she called me at home to tell me she finally got it. I don’t think I can do this every year for the rest of my life.