"By this time my lungs were aching for air."
(Part two of the inhaler saga.)
I was at Target for allergy meds and clinging to the feeble hope that someone had called in my prescription. If it didn't happen before 5pm today, it wouldn't happen until Monday, as the Target pharmacy I asked them to fax it to is closed tomorrow for Easter.
I asked the nice woman at the pharmacy counter to check. She asked my name. "Oh, I think I spoke to you yesterday." Yep, you did. Nope, no scrip. Sorry. It's 4:50pm.
About to checkout at the front of the store, my phone rings. I look at it and see an unfamiliar 617 number. I did what I never do and answered the phone, shoving coupons, Target store credit, and debit card into a bewildered D's hands, with instructions to pay, as I scampered away from the register to hear better.
Oh hi, lady-from-my-doctor's-office. She was apologetic, saying that someone should have absolutely signed off on my request of Friday. She said she'd just faxed over the refill request. "Give them thirty minutes and then..."
"I'm actually at Target right now and the pharmacy closes in five minutes so I'm going now." Oh! Well, I should call her back if there's a problem. Throwing caution to the wind, I jog across the store to the pharmacy. My scrip is on the fax machine! I blurt, hoarsely.
Five minutes later, I had my inhaler. After spending all day yawning and exhausted and literally feeling like I was going to spontaneously fall asleep, even in the line at PetSmart with a million dogs yapping around me --- fifteen minutes post-dose I realize my brain wasn't really operating. Hello, dumbass, these are side effects of inadequate oxygen.
I feel much better. Awake. Ridiculous.
Thank you to everyone who insisted I bug the on-call doctor. Y'all may have saved me an ER trip, or at minimum a voyage to urgent care.
I was at Target for allergy meds and clinging to the feeble hope that someone had called in my prescription. If it didn't happen before 5pm today, it wouldn't happen until Monday, as the Target pharmacy I asked them to fax it to is closed tomorrow for Easter.
I asked the nice woman at the pharmacy counter to check. She asked my name. "Oh, I think I spoke to you yesterday." Yep, you did. Nope, no scrip. Sorry. It's 4:50pm.
About to checkout at the front of the store, my phone rings. I look at it and see an unfamiliar 617 number. I did what I never do and answered the phone, shoving coupons, Target store credit, and debit card into a bewildered D's hands, with instructions to pay, as I scampered away from the register to hear better.
Oh hi, lady-from-my-doctor's-office. She was apologetic, saying that someone should have absolutely signed off on my request of Friday. She said she'd just faxed over the refill request. "Give them thirty minutes and then..."
"I'm actually at Target right now and the pharmacy closes in five minutes so I'm going now." Oh! Well, I should call her back if there's a problem. Throwing caution to the wind, I jog across the store to the pharmacy. My scrip is on the fax machine! I blurt, hoarsely.
Five minutes later, I had my inhaler. After spending all day yawning and exhausted and literally feeling like I was going to spontaneously fall asleep, even in the line at PetSmart with a million dogs yapping around me --- fifteen minutes post-dose I realize my brain wasn't really operating. Hello, dumbass, these are side effects of inadequate oxygen.
I feel much better. Awake. Ridiculous.
Thank you to everyone who insisted I bug the on-call doctor. Y'all may have saved me an ER trip, or at minimum a voyage to urgent care.