Unfiltered Story #258880

I have both generalized anxiety and depression and take two separate antidepressants for them: one for anxiety, one for depression. It can be a little rough, having to take multiple pills in one day, but it’s a small price to pay for being mentally healthy. However, due to circumstances involving my healthcare and my primary hospital, I have to go see my regular doctor to get my refills instead of a psychiatrist–and that means that every once in a while, in order to get those refills, I need to schedule an appointment with my doctor instead of just calling the office and having a nurse do it.

The reason this is important is because one day, when I ran out of refills and tried to schedule an appointment with my doctor, I found out that she was on vacation and wouldn’t be back for… about a month. Which meant that for around 3-4 weeks, I was off my antidepressants.

To say it was Hell for me would be an understatement.

While this was happening, I was also planning to go to a convention a few hours away from my home. Since I had already paid for the hotel room and badge, I decided that if I didn’t have my meds, I’d just have to suck it up. Fortunately, I managed to squeeze in an appointment with my doctor right before I leave. Unfortunately, the appointment is literally the day BEFORE I leave. So, I essentially have to see my doctor and then get all my medications the next day before leaving. When I do see my doctor, she reassures me that she will have my usual pharmacy call me the next day to pick up my meds.

The day of the trip, my mom gets a text AND email notification from the pharmacy that my meds are ready, so she leaves to get them. When she gets back home, I find my usual sets of meds (inhaler, Epi-Pen, allergy stuff) and… one of my antidepressants, specifically the one for my anxiety. I search the bag extensively, but I quickly realize that the pharmacy never gave my mom the medication for my depression.

Since I’ve been off my meds for roughly a month by then, and was going to be at a convention for almost half a week, I couldn’t exactly afford to go without one of my antidepressants for even longer. So, while I finish off the rest of my packing, my mom calls the pharmacy to explain the issue (although I have to take the phone soon enough because my mom doesn’t know the exact medication I take).

The pharmacist on the other end is really apologetic and says that he’ll have the order filled in about 40 minutes. This works great because me and my mom were planning to leave for the hotel in around an hour from then. We confirm with the pharmacist if we can pick up up the order in an hour and he says that it’s fine. So, we decide to just continue with the rest of the day, and just pick up the medication on our way to the con. As we finish putting everything in the car, my mom gets another text notification from the pharmacy. My antidepressant is ready.

Eventually, me and my mom have left the house with all of my stuff in the car and make our way the pharmacy. It’s only ten minutes from our place, but since we’re going to be driving for nearly 2 hours, we make that our only stop.
I go into the pharmacy, all the way to the back. It’s not that busy, with maybe two or three people sitting down on the chairs waiting for their order. I go up to the woman at the desk, give her my details, and ask for my antidepressant.

She says the order isn’t ready.

I’m upset and confused because my mom HAD gotten a text from the pharmacy, telling her that my meds were ready. I asked her why they send the text, and she says she doesn’t know; maybe it was an error on the computer part, or they had refilled the wrong medication by mistake and send out the text, she’s not sure. Either way, my medication isn’t ready.

I ask her how long would it take for them to give me my refill. She says, “maybe an hour, hour and a half.”

I am dejected. I am upset. I am crestfallen. I am that little kitten being told to hang in there when there’s lava right under me, and my little paws are so sore from hanging on… But, I’m also drained, both physically and mentally (again, I’ve been off my meds for ~4 weeks), and I just end up resigned to it. If it was any other day, I might have been stubborn about it, or sucked it up and just waited that hour, but by then, I just didn’t have the mental energy for it. So, I thank the lady for her time and head back to my mom’s car.

She notices that I’m empty-handed and asked me what happened. I answer, but before I could tell her to just forget about it and start making our way to the hotel, she interrupts me.

“WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Ay, Dios Mio–stay here!”

And before I have a chance to say anything else, my mom steps out of the car and makes her way to the pharmacy. Because I’m too stunned and confused about what was going on, I decide to just stay in the car.

Roughly ten-to-fifteen minutes later, my mom comes back and hands me a bag: inside, is the medication for my depression and a chocolate bar.

Apparently, she demanded for the head pharmacist and ranted about how they’ve forgotten my medication twice now, and how irresponsible it is to just forget a refill ESPECIALLY when I haven’t taken it for four weeks, and how she had half a mind to make a formal complaint against the pharmacy, and complain to the rest of the community, and etc., etc. And they ended up making the refill and handing it to her in about five minutes. “Less than an hour,” she said.

Did a part of me feel a teeny bit bad about my mom probably making a scene? Yeah, I can’t deny that. But the rest of me gladly ate that chocolate bar and just counted my blessings my mom was there with me.

And with that, I leave off with a lesson: at the end of the day, even if a part of you feels bad, always find the strength and courage to stand up to people and make sure you’re being heard. And if you can’t, then a 5’1″ Hispanic mother will do just fine!