Both of us slept like the dead last night. Well, Babygirl did. If the dead get leg cramps from too much driving and sitting, and need to walk it out while waiting for the meds to kick in, well, then, me too.
I also don't think the dead need to sleep with masks on, but that's just a detail. Babygirl is still in quarantine.
At the time of her discharge last night, I spoke with the social worker. She told me that they were going to send medications to Strong Pharmacy, in house, so she'd have what she needs for the night and morning. I asked if things had changed, med-wise, and she said that they had increased the doses of two of her regular medications and decreased the other. No problem, I told her. I brought her medications from home and we had plenty to cover the changes. Could she make sure that refills went to the local pharmacy? Absolutely not a problem, she reassured me.
I waited for Babygirl for over an hour in the hospital lobby. They assured me on my arrival that they just had to do some paperwork. When I realized that dozens of people were arriving for shift change at 7 PM I asked security to check on things. "Oh, her nurse is bringing her down now!" I checked with Babygirl. "That's news to me!" And in a couple of moments: "I'm in a wheelchair."
The nurse who brought her down told me I needed to go to the hospital pharmacy. I told her I had discussed this with the social worker, and we were fine.
At breakfast this morning Babygirl and I discussed this. I'd gone over her discharge medication list and discovered some discrepancies. Two NEW medications were added in that we didn't have prescriptions for. Perhaps we needed to go to the hospital pharmacy after all. We looked online for the pharmacy and it was listed as closed until Monday. OOOPPPPSSSSS.
I called our local pharmacy to see if her medications had been phoned to them, as requested. Nope.
Well, then.
We opted to hit the road and work on the problem from the car. It was, well, an adventure in frustration.
We started by calling the social worker assigned to us. She's off until Tuesday. We tried the social worker I'd spoken to last night. "Leave a message." I did not. We tried the main social work office number give for "urgent issues." It rang 30 times with no answer or machine, and we gave up.
Next we tried the floor she was discharged from. "Who is your case coordinator?" WTDuck, heck if I know. I'm pretty sure that sometime while Babygirl was in the ICU more-or-less unconscious, SOMEONE introduced themself by that title. But I was stressed, and meeting 72 new caregivers/day, and.... I can't remember. The clerk on the floor could not glean this information from her chart, so she instead tried to find a provider on the floor who had cared for Babygirl. The consensus was: She's not here anymore, so this isn't our problem/responsibility because she wasn't/isn't under our care. "Did you know that the hospital pharmacy is open 24/7?" Well, no, since that's not what it says online. They suggested we come back and pick up the medications. Well, by this time we are 40 miles down the road, so, NO.
I'm a doctor. Many times I cared for people I had never met simply because I was on call. This would have been a no-brainer. I see the list of things she needs, and I just need to send them to a new pharmacy? Awesome, easiest problem I've seen all night! But.....no.
She suggested that we call the transplant clinic, where she has been seen in person twice since 2019. And if that doesn't work, try the family practice doc (who has no access to her records here at Strong, so good luck to you).
I'd like to mention here that I am driving 70 MPH on a lightly snowy day in modest traffic while ALL of these conversations are happening. By this time we've made it from Rochester to Syracuse.
We call the clinic on-call doctor. The answering service has a 20 minute hold time, but the jazz Muzac is pretty awesome. The operator is appropriately appalled at our story, so that was something. She gave us the name of the doctor who would be calling back "within 15 minutes, or call me back."
Forty-five minutes later I'm placing bets with Babygirl that this doctor is going to listen to me pee and flush at the rest stop. We manage to do what we need to do without eavesdroppers. We get back in the car, hit 70, and initiate another call to the answering service.
Ten minutes into our new "on hold" session with the service, we get a call from a 607 area code. Strong is 585, so I'm not sure.....but Babygirl has faith, and puts the service on hold (I mean, fair is fair, right?) and takes the call.
Dr A lets us know that it is "no problem at all" to call ALL of the medications she was supposed to get at discharge to the correct pharmacy. See? The on-call doctor is GRATEFUL for such an easy request. At this point, we are less than 10 miles from home on a 2 1/2 hour journey.
Two hours after our arrival home I called our pharmacy because I hadn't gotten the "You Have Meds" text from them. Five new medications are ready. I picked them up for about $6. The 6th will be handled by dialysis on Monday.
We (and by "we" I mean Babygirl) made a lovely spaghetti dinner, after (me) paying bills and (Babygirl) sorting pills.
I've had about half a bottle of wine. I'm not sure it's enough.
DeeDee
PS Oh, and one of the cars needed a jump to start. And apparently NO ONE has a functioning air machine to deal with the "your tires are low" warning on the other car. Duck it. Or drown the Ducker in wine.
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