December 04, 2005
cranky old drug store lady
Oh! Shocking! I'm in a grumpy mood.
I've got no list of reasons. I suppose I woke up on the wrong side of the bed; that'd be hard to do, actually. Nevertheless...
I went to the drug store to get two prescriptions. One was a refill. The prescription was brand new two months ago. I came in to get that refill. They said no. They said it was too late and that the prescription had expired. Oh.
I brought another prescription with me. I had the original piece of paper. It was from March. That they filled without a problem. That hadn't expired.
I asked what the deal was. The answer they gave was pretty much the same answer people give when what they're saying doesn't make sense. They said, "But you waited a month before you refilled." I said, "I waited a month before I refilled because I had samples." The said, "But you see that you could only refill until this day. Only one month from the prescription date." I said, "That's never been true before. Is this medication special?" They said, "Let me see." She came back with, "But you waited a month before you refilled." I started to ask why it was that I was able to fill a nine month old prescription, but then I thought they might take it away from me so I just left feeling the same way about that particular pharmacist as I always have. That she's a little slow.
Then I went to buy a newspaper from them and they didn't have any. Bastards.
I sound like my grandmother. Except she'd rant about the pharmacist to everybody who would listen. Not everyone who would read.
My grandmother, by the way, is really ill. She has cancer and had been in the hospital and they thought she was ready to be on her way to the next world so they passed her over to Hospice. It was the short-term Hospice. Two weeks, they thought.
Well, Gram got booted out of Hospice. She's staying with my aunt and my mom is staying there, too, to help. Gram got booted because she wasn't dying fast enough. Hooray! It's an odd thing to say, I suppose, that she wasn't dying fast enough. We're all dying, though. It's just that the distances between us and the out door are different for everybody.
BellyRub objected to the name of the Hospice they'd sent her to. The Inn at Saint Peter's. He thought it was stupid because it was in a hospital. I told him they had to call it that. There's no Out at Saint Peter's.
Except for Gram.
There are some times that we must all take pride in being kicked out.
And perhaps there are some times that we must all take pride in sounding like our grandmothers.
It's our heritage.
