Army Pharmacies suck

Well, that may be a bold, general statement. I am sure not ALL Army hospital pharmacies suck and the ones that do, certainly can’t suck ALL of the time (like when I got my awesome drugs while in labor with the wee ones) but today, this pharmacy – SUCKED.

I called in my refill for Xanax yesterday. Yes, I waited till I was almost out cause I didn’t want to be flagged in the system for being a dopehead by planning ahead. Anyways, the automated system told me I could pick up my prescription after 2 pm today.

So, at 4:15 I went and got my number, sat down, waited 30 minutes and then went up to the counter when my number was called.

Oh, didn’t you know there was a “glitch” in their system and my refill wouldn’t be ready for another 48 hours?

I explained the fact that THEIR system told me it would be ready and that I can’t really run out of this stuff because you can’t just STOP taking it (could be really bad! And they should know that, since they are the PHARMACY!) but they basically told me there was nothing they could do.

Like they don’t have 489y479789798789782890485897439 pills of Xanax back there were they could fill my damn refill. Customer service. HELLO! Except, they don’t think they have to give customer service, cause it is SOCIALIZED medicine and it SUCKS.

So, I asked how to get my prescription transferred to another pharmacy. They gave me the info I needed and off to Walgreens I went.

After my 45 minute drive to Walgreens (speeding most of the way because I had to get there before 6 pm when the Army pharmacy closed) I walked up to the counter and said, “I just had an awful experience at (insert Army hospital name here). Can you please help me?”

Within 15, yes FIFTEEN, minutes, not only had they called and gotten my prescription transferred over, it was filled and they were paging my name over the speaker. I didn’t even have time to get my on-sale, going-to-be-free-actually-going-to-be-money-maker-cause-they-were-going-to-give-me-3-dollars-in-register-rewards-after-purchase into the cart before they called my name – THAT’S how fast they were.

Yes, I had to pay $3 out of pocket for my meds. But you know what? I think I am going to keep going to Walgreens for every.single.medication. the doc puts me on. All those drugs the Army buys HUGE supplies of to keep the cost down? Whatever! I will pay my $3 and let the Army pay Walgreens $67 for the prescription.

At least at Walgreens they are nice. And helpful. And care about my business because, uh, that’s why they are business.

Unlike this suckfest Army pharamacy.

*note – never had a problem at any of the other pharmacies on this post – just this particular one. And I did already put in an ICE comment – which probably won’t do much. And yes, I am venting. Oops.

** Moral of the story? Socialized medicine, while at times seemingly wonderful, also seemingly sucks. Stupid pharmacy.

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Reintegrating…

Sucks.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the fact that my husband is home. I do.

But for more than 7 months I did everything. I did the laundry, the cleaning, the grocery shopping, and the bills. I was the giver of punishments to the children and also the giver of hugs and kisses.

I was the everything. And now he comes back and feels the need to either A) disrupt the system we have in place because it doesn’t work for him or B) Disrupt the system we have in place in order to feel like he is part of it.

Either way, it is hard. I have been accused of moving everything around after asking him a billion times and then screaming to STOP MOVING MY STUFF at him – even though I haven’t moved ANYTHING that belongs to him. Not. ONE. THING. To include the flip flops he left in living room before he went to Iraq, that were STILL. WHERE. HE. PUT. THEM. WHEN. HE. GOT. BACK.

I am very sorry to be venting here, but this is driving me crazy. Even more crazy?

He blamed the fact that the doctor prescribed me Xanax on himself. Yeah. That was totally not a passive/aggressive move to make me feel like shit, was it?

The fact that I prescribed the medication WHEN HE WASN’T EVEN HERE doesn’t seem to matter. Nor does it matter that MAYBE! JUST MAYBE! I do have a medical reason to take it! No! That doesn’t matter! All that matters is that HE doesn’t want me taking medication so he will use any guilt method he can for me NOT to take it.

And then? When I flip out with an anxiety attack? Then its all MY FAULT because I GET MYSELF into a tizzy. (OK, Maybe I DO – but maybe if I was taking the medication I wouldn’t be in a tizzy?!?)

Reintegrating is a bitch. And I don’t care how many times it has been done before – each time is different. I have no advice for myself or for anyone else on how to make it “easier”, because it is never easy.

But if I find my purse moved from where I put it one more time I seriously may flip out of my mind. Same thing with the can opener. It goes in the same place it did even BEFORE YOU LEFT! Why move it to another drawer? Because it is funny to watch me go can opener hunting?

*Rant over- enjoy the rest of your Memorial Day!*

Where my head literally feels like it is about to explode…

Yes,  I took all my stupid medicines today. And no, they did not seem to help. (Although I am sure they did help enough to keep me at work all day instead of calling a taxi cab to bring me home. That’s how bad I was feeling – bad enough to where I would leave my vehicle at work and deal with the costs of a cab driving me 20 miles one way)

So now that I am home, in my comfy bed, with only the light of the computer screen staring back at me, I feel a *little* better.

But not much. And yes,  I should just go take a nap. But I have a paper due Wednesday that isn’t going to write itself. And children that think they must be fed each and every day. I swear, we should vacation in a 3rd world country just so they can appreciate the fact that there is food in the house each and every day and that even if I can’t don’t cook something, there is more than enough that they can fend for themselves.

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