A Long Thursday

February 15, 2002
      The Sunday following the hysterical Saturday, I went to the gym and really worked out - a lot! Full routine. Rotated events. Took my arms to fatigue.
      Then came home and ran errands
      One of those was get the boy his drugs.
      I went to Longs - and they had no record of the refund from the last time I picked up drugs. When they were to call Medical and get refunded for the copay.
      Nice shot guys.
      "We can't bill two insurances. We can't bill Medical."
      Last time it was "We can't get through so we can't use Medical for the copay."
      So we started for this order. Two vials because it doesn't come in 450 strength.
      She rang up --- $138.00!
      "Wait. Doesn't my primary insurance cover this?"
      "What primary insurance."
      Ho boy! My primary insurance. I gave them his Medical card - obvious what happened. They entered his name wrong into the system - left off the "h". So he came up as a new customer - and not one that had been here for 5 years or so. They've done this before.
      Off she went to fix that while the line behind us grew longer, and I guess I was beginning to look hot under the collar.
      A guy was filling cash drawers and sporting a Department Manager badge.
      "Are you the manager for this Department?" I ask.
      "No." he says and wanders off. Up comes the lead pharmacist.
      I tell her the tale and ask, "Can you or can you not handle Medical as a copay or do I get all his prescriptions at Stanford from now on?"
      She said, "Oh yes, they can, but the Dr. forgot to provide a license number."
      I said, "But you were on the phone with her five times yesterday as they tried to get me and the drugs together. Didn't someone ask?"
      They mumbled about how they had more than one customer with my son's name - a very WASP name in a city overrun with refugees from India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and a host of oriental countries. Not likely! Even the movie theater is Indian now!
      So I got his drugs - and paid nothing - they will "take care of it on Monday". I hguess I should get upset more often. I get so tired of incompetence.
      And, frankly, if they were not going to handle Medical (and Medicare), I would seriously think about closing them down.
      We, my son and I, eventually got to a little Valentines day party with a few of the Team in Training Members. We had dinner in a restaurant - I had a dark beer - or half of one. And the most awful ravioli. He got his Christmas bike. It is parked against the weight machine in the living room that the nurses, on seeing the Christmas photos, tell me is "cluttered". That, my dear, is an understatement. We camp in this house. 3,000 sq feet of stuff in 1600 sq feet of space. Insanity from day 1. I long for my home in San Diego. I am ready to start packing-----
      By Monday ----
      My son crashed with a cold. Coughing and hacking and feeling miserable. I gave him medication and went to work.
      By Tuesday he was worse - stuffy ears. Still no fever. I called - and they said to bring him in.
      So much for a calm, restful Tuesday.
      We went in, they drew blood, they xrayed him, and sent us home.
      To watch him.
      We made it through Wednesday but he rejected food.
      On Thursday - clinic day - I had a BIG meeting scheduled for 1PM. I dressed for it. If I have no meetings, I am a bit more dressed-down.
      A 2-hour trip for chemo became a nightmare of something----
      First - he did not want to get up in the morning. Said I was "mean."
      I slam my door when I am having trouble getting him up - an indication that I have now "had enough of that crap".
      I slammed it three times this morning.
      I begged and pleaded and got mad and upset.
      At long last (45 minutes) he rolled over when I said he was giving me an asthma attack. He was. I grabbed my inhaler.
      I got clothes on him - no shower. His hair is wild. Uncombed. I grabbed the wheelchair and put it back into the van. We would probably need it. He looks like hell.
      We left at about 8AM.
      We got there on time for the 9AM appointment - not speaking for the entire trip. Hungry grumpy boys are like that. I ignored him.
      We waited - got in a room at the clinic and waited some more.
      At last they OK'd chemo.
      We go to the day hospital - it is now about 11AM.
      They accessed him - I am pushing him in a wheelchair today as I had thought.
      He is dehydrated and pale.
      I went for coffee for me and juice for him.
      It was a two-hour chemo. I am counting the minutes.
      He is coughing and spitting and I sent for Codeine with Robitussin.
      Time for a refill.
      They decide that he should be seen - they de-access him at just after 1PM and leave us in the room. The de-access is where they haul the needle out of his chest.
      He continues hacking and spitting.
      I could not make a 1PM meeting at work. I called and left a message. I tried the conference room - no joy there either. I took odds on whether it was even held - they were not organized yesterday.
      I get more juice for him and water for me.
      By 3PM I have finished the ever-present novel I carry for these days and am pacing - we go for a chest xray
      By 4PM I am restless and tired of sitting and have gone through any magazine I can lay my hands on (next time, TWO books!). The doctor finally comes and decides we need a blood culture.
      They have to re-access the chest port!
      And then deaccess - and really put pressure on this thing to clot.
      We left at 5PM - into a wall of traffic - worst I've seen in awhile. I am driving a stick in traffic that moves at the speed of one car per light change.
      Two and one half hours later, I get home and the kid - who had been throwing a fever on and off (why the chest xray) promptly puked everything up (post-chemo routine of late).
      He has his pills in a dish (Sudafed, Benadryl, codeine, and antibiotics) and a bottle of Gatorade.
      I am in a coma.
      I was in high-heeled boots (I love those boots) , dress slacks, crepe tank and black suit jacket - ready for my meeting------not the best outfit to sit and sit and sit in the hospital
      Yuck!
      My hips were frozen after all that stop and go (stick shift) - I literally hobbled into the house!
      My child comfortably settled and drugged, I get to calm down. After I dose the animals with THEIR antibiotics.
      The cat I have in hand. Grab him, tip back his head, he immediately starts tonguing - even before I stick the dropper into his mouth - plunge the dropper and voila! One medicated cat.
      The dog however, is very smart. Snakehead is her nickname. She will put her ears back and has a "look" "I know what you want but I ain't doing it" look. Her eyes avoid you. On purpose.
      She spit out the half pill (big pill) that I had wrapped in soft cheese. I had given her the pill three times with the cheese. Not today. Oh of course not. She spit it out over and over. I scolded her to no avail. Of course not. I don't speak Border Collie.
      So finally, in desperation, I smash the thing on the kitchen tile and pick it up with a spoonful of wet dog food. That works.
      I love it.
      $462 to clean their teeth - and then get them soft food as a way to drug them.
      Lovely.
      This requires a cup of decafe laced with Jim Beam! Since I am out of wine.
      I sipped it while watching myself on the E! True Hollywood Story on Fabio.
      Yep. Time to save up for the face lift, the tattooed eyebrows, lips and eye lids and a new makeup design.
      After I lose the excess weight.
      I also opened my box of See's candy - dark chocolate - and had one. Happy Valentines Day to me!
      Oh yes.
      They had cancelled the meeting.