Now, one would think that if I had surgery at an authorized facility outside GH, it would be ok to get related medications at said facility, right? Yeah, apparently not. To give a little background, no one told me an exact discharge time from the hospital, and frankly, I was happily addicted to the little red nurse call button, so I hadn't really arranged a set time to be picked up by my sister. Around 6pm or so, one of the nurses came in, went over my discharge papers and gave me the all clear to head home. Oh yeah, and I wouldn't have any nursing care after 7pm. BUMMER! It was at this time that I was told that I'd have to pick up my pain medication at a Group Health pharmacy, rather than get it from the in-house pharmacy at Virginia Mason. I knew both the downtown and northgate clinics closed at 5, so the only way to get it would be at the main pharmacy. After making a phone call, it was discovered that it closed at 7:30. Under normal circumstances, it's maybe a 10 min drive from VM to GH, so I wasn't too worried about it. Until....
I called my sister's place, and they were JUST getting dinner settled (with 3 kids, this is no small feat!) and she said she'd eat quickly and then come get me. As I watched the clock tick closer and closer to 7:00, I started to get a little itchy. I talked w/ the nurses who faxed my rx over to GH, and gave me the paper copy, in the hopes the pharmacy could have it ready to go when I presented the hard copy. They had already called for the hospital transport to bring me downstairs, and by ten after seven, my sister had been waiting downstairs for almost 15 minutes, and I was still 3rd on the list to get a wheelchair escort. Of course by this time, I was pretty mobile, packed and ready to go (although I was still stoned out of my mind and slow as molasses in January.) Because of the absolute NECESSITY for me to have my pain meds (duh!), finally one of the nurses said screw it, and took me down herself. She grabbed my bag and off we went to the elevator bay. The most convenient patient pick up spot was closed for construction (ironically the same day as my surgery), so I can imagine how funny it looked for a nurse with a mission and a gym bag being following by a grinning, near drooling patient shuffling along in pink scottie dog jammie pants and flip flops, winding through the halls of the hospital. We finally made it to one of the lesser known/daytime use only entrances and it was like walking onto 520 during rush hour. Apparently I wasn't the only patient being released, and there was a whole host of cars waiting. This explained why I had been waiting for over 45 minutes for someone to bring me down.
I got into my sister's car and off we went to GH as quickly as possible. We arrived with just 5 minutes to spare, and I shuffled to the pharmacy in my flip flops and jammie pants, armed with the hard copy of my script. After a few minutes, I was called to the window, slid my script under the glass, and expected to be handed my vicodin so I could go home to recover. Now, keep in mind I was still less than 48 hours post-op, had just been released from the hospital, and here I am, standing at the pharmacy window, stoned out of my gourd. The initial guy was cool, took my script and he acknowledged that the pills were waiting. YAY! Then he said that before they could give me the pills, a pharmacist would have to speak with me. Not yay.
Now, you'd think on a Tuesday night, now 10 minutes past closing, I wouldn't have to wait. But oh, dear friends, how wrong you would be! There was one guy ahead of me, and another woman who came in just a minute before the pharmacy closed. Oddly enough, both of them were helped and on their way out before me. After waiting several minutes, I began to lose my ability to stand upright, and thankfully the pharmacy window had a nice strong ledge for me to lean on. Just imagine the sight: strange woman in jammie pants and flip flops, clearly stoned, with all kinds of recent needle marks up and down both arms (from IV's, people - I'm SO not a junkie! ), inpatient bracelets, barely able to stand, wanting to pick up narcotic pain medications. Add to this, my doctor had written two different directions for the meds. Yeah, that didn't set off any kind of warning bells!
The pharmacist came to my window and, perplexed about the prescription's directions, began to quiz me about how I was told to take it. By now, I'd been standing for nearly 20 minutes, and was getting dangerously close to just curling up on the floor for a nap. She then wanted to give me a run down of how to take the pills, side effects, things to watch out for, don't drive while taking the pills, blah blah blah blah. FINALLY she handed over the bottle, and I flip flopped my way back to the car, where I was whisked home, and got myself settled in for a few weeks of recovery.
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