Count the Bad, Miss the Blessing

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icy-channel-961_640.jpgIt was cold and windy today (a biting wind) and I had my usual appointment that takes about an hour of bus and walking – one mile of walking – each way. To top it off, I was going through withdrawals from a medication that I first tried to call in on Tuesday, so three days ago. I’ve been without this medication now for about 30 hours. It wasn’t the worst medication to have it happen with, this breakdown in communication somewhere between myself and the pharmacy and my doctor – but my focus was off and I kind of just wanted to curl into a ball, but that wasn’t an option.

So I had resigned myself that I needed to make this appointment, but that I wasn’t bad off enough to need a ride from a friend, and that I would make it there and back and would swing by the pharmacy on the way home.

I was at the bus stop when my roommate (really busy roommate who is almost never home) says she’s going my way and can give me a ride! Happy day! I mourned just a tiny bit the loss of the 1 mile walk from the bus stop nearest my destination. I really did. Teensy tinsy bit. But I got to sit with my roommate’s adorable dog perched on my lap and avoid that wind. Brrr. Nice warm car. Mmmm.

So I got to my destination early and had time to call the pharmacy and find out that they still hadn’t gotten a call from the nurses who were supposed to call in my meds! I was (and still am) starting to doubt my abilities to procure my meds in a timely fashion. With some, they could land me in the hospital within a couple days. I tend to forget that because most of the time I’m okay.

So my therapist is at the same place as my psychiatrist. She looks up my prescription which states that the nurses have contacted the pharmacy, which I know the pharmacy said isn’t so. Not so concerned at this point about what is so as I am about feeling like I want to roll around like a little ball the rest of the day but instead I’m chasing pharmaceutical electronic information exchanges (or the lack of them) and have been for three days.

When my therapy appointment is over, my therapist goes with me to the nurse’s office downstairs to find them all gone home for the weekend. I have no choice but to ride the bus to the other branch somewhere else in Provo where the nurses are still there to see what is wrong. Calling them on the phone didn’t work.

By this point I am doing the runaround panic sentences in my head: “Who dropped the ball wait it doesn’t matter just go get there I hate the cold today it doesn’t bother me so much when I’m not having withdrawals stupid Utah weather that I like some of the time I’m such a Californian wimp why should anyone have to take the bus to somewhere they’re not familiar with when their mind is as jumbled up as mine is but it could be worse.”  Ad nauseum for the half hour or so it takes me to get to office #2, after missing the stop and having to walk back.

Then I realize, after cheerily buying a snack at a warm gas station, that I’m forgetting something important. I got a ride to my therapist appointment!! How much colder and more confused would I be if I had had to walk that extra mile in the cold?

I confess that this didn’t get rid of all of my frustration, but I can tell you that I was more grateful than I think I’ve ever been when I finally made it to the pharmacy near home and that prescription was there waiting for me. I celebrated with McDonald’s (don’t give me a hard time….) and finally took my med and felt like I’d made it. Small, first-world problems…. Other blessings today: I have a nice warm coat. I have a hat that covers my ears, however imperfectly, so they don’t get as cold as they could.  The bus is there for me. The bus drivers are pretty much always friendly. The buses here aren’t as crowded as where I used to live.

And I could go on.

(still a little miffed, but working on it)

 

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About pickleclub1971

I'm a single mom of 2: a Southern CA native, who transplanted to Utah 4 years ago. I have one 18 year old who is off to the Ivy League, and one 14 year old who is in high school. I served an LDS Mission to Southern France and I’ve also lived in the San Francisco Bay Area, Idaho, Northern Arizona, and New Hampshire. I love 80’s music, classical music, choral music, playing the piano, singing, speaking what French I still remember, and talking about history and music with whomever will listen. I love that my kids are better at math than I was at their age. (But they still get frequent historical references from me…anyone familiar with Ducky from NCIS? He’s that kind of medical examiner, I’m that kind of mom.) My kids also think I know all the lyrics to all the songs from the 80’s, mainly because I’m good at making them up and faking it when I don’t know. Sometimes they catch me. I’m currently disabled with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). I want to get better (of course) and be an advocate for trauma survivors and others with mental illnesses. I like people in general. I suffer from the delusion that I can make everyone my friend, but of course that isn’t possible: but I still believe that the world can be a better place.

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