Sunday, I woke up at the crack of dawn for a doctor's appointment at a drugstore clinic. However, the story really started Friday when I was declined a Lisinopril medication refill from my favorite Urgent Care. Needlesstosay, I broke into tears at the reception desk on my way out because, as I think I have shared with you, I am an emotional basket case these days. Plus, the fear of having to go to the ER was giving me a panic attack. I will say though that the receptionist was really nice. She told me a story about how she used to be uninsured and was also a healthcare pariah because she had had a surgery out of the country. Even though the story was a real thriller, I felt like Mary being turned away from the inn, but instead of looking for a cheap Holiday Inn on Groupon, I turned to the next best thing: an appointment at one of those drugstore clinics. #uninsuredgirlproblems
I woke up very optimistic about my visit to the drugstore clinic. This was hard for me because I am becoming increasingly more negative by the day. But this visit had to go as planned or I was going to be looking at yet another 14-hour, credit damaging visit to the ER. I prayed, I watched a crystal healing video on Youtube, and I got dressed up really cute. I feel that when I am looking my cutest, things go my way. So I put on a cute top and a skirt that shows off my back porch, just in case I got a man doctor that could be easily swayed.
Why all the theatrics for blood pressure meds? I hadn't had my meds in three days, and I was starting to get worried. I am convinced that this sweet combo of Lisinopril and Hydrochlorothiazide is the only thing keeping me alive. It is NOT a good idea for me to go without it for even the shortest period of time. Because I am uninsured, I don't have a primary care doctor. So I have to whore around to ERs, Urgent Cares, and drugstore clinics to get medical attention. This is not ideal. The doctors I have seen want me to get a primary care doctor, and to ensure that I do, they are beginning to squeeze me on refills. See the issue?
Still dripping with optimism, I showed up at the drugstore for my appointment and surprise! My doctor was an African lady. This was not good. In my experience as a healthcare bouncer, I have found African doctors to be no-nonsense rule sticklers that are not here for the razzle-dazzle BS. My ability to produce entertaining razzle-dazzle BS is the only reason that anything ever goes my way!
"If your blood pressure is high, I can not give you a refill," the doctor said, stone-faced. Of course, I started balling next to a stand of band-aids and she just watched me, unphased. "It may not be high," she said flatly.
Spoiler alert: it was high. However, she said that it may have been because I was crying. What happened next was unexpected, but a temporary life saver.
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