Last week I flew out to New York for Advertising Week and was stoked to be back to the city, to have a bitchin' week at AdWeek, and hopefully be able to meet up with some friends while I was out for the week.
Unfortunately, the night I got to my old apartment I got a crazy fever that utterly wiped me out. A fever that lasted THREE days. Are you kidding me? I was just getting over being sick from the week before and coping with my 'close call' mountainside shenanigans!? Did I really need this now?
Like I've said before I'm nearly certain that my immune system is pretend.
So the majority of the time on my trip was spent between lying on the couch and lying on the inflatable air mattress, wanting to die.
After the third day of having the flu/fever, lying in bed with fever chills, having a swollen and painful neck, and not being able to stand up or swallow... I thought it would probably be a good idea to finally see a doctor.
So what does one do when they don't have a doctor in the city and are coming close to expiring on an inflatable mattress in someone else's apartment? You go to the new Duane Reade doctor's office in the pharmacy section, of course. [insert red flag here] For those not familiar with Duane Reade it would be like going to a doctor that has a random office at Walgreens... or Petsmart. Equally sketchy.
I rallied and pulled myself together and showered for the first time in days for the great journey southward to the doctor (less than twenty streets away.) Upon entering the Duane Reade store, I passed the deli section and the cereal aisle of Duane Reade and headed up the escalator to the pharmacy/doctor's office on the second floor. I filled out all the paper work and headed to the waiting area (found between the wall of Doritos and the wall of Theraflu and Tylenol Cold medicine.) where I waited for a bit until the nurse came out and called my name.
The nurse was nice enough, that is until she gave me a strep throat test. Have you ever had a strep throat test before? If not, I'll give you a quick little run down... first they take the tongue supressor (aka a giant popsicle stick) and force your tongue down as they tell you to say "Ahhhhhhhh." Then, while you're distracted, they sneakily take out a giant stick with a Q-tip at the end and jab it at the back of your throat. repeatedly. for fun.
And now you are only half way done.
Lastly, they go all mavericky in the back of your throat and literally start swabbing back there like it's one of those silver scratch off lottery tickets, until you start to gag and they realize that you just might throw up on them. You then start coughing as tears automatically well up in your eyes and through the watery haze you see the doctor pull the stick out, look at you with sad eyes, shake their head, and then say, "Oooh, we didn't quite get it... we'll have to do it one more time."
You now know what it is like to get a strep throat test.
After being violated by the nurse via swabbing, she asked me to wait outside for the doctor. I walked back out to the waiting area and waited for the doctor while I watched the girl behind the cosmetics counter file her nails and bob her head to Beyonce that she had playing from her phone.
The doctor came out about five minutes later and called me in to her office. The second that I walked in the room was the second she was already trying to get rid of me. She barely touched my neck to find out what was wrong, and she was rushing through everything as fast as she could. Then she said, "Let me just pull up your strep throat test results." as she fumbled around on her computer for a few seconds, "Nope, looks like you don't have strep, but you probably have an infection in your throat so I'm going to prescribe you a Z-pack. Take two pills today and then one every day for the next 4 days." She ushered me out just short of throwing in a "and don't let the door hit you on the way out!" as I was leaving.
I'm sorry, was I just abandoned?!
I left the office I walked into the waiting room to see some guy with a camera around his neck, a tripod, and lighting equipment with even one of those miniature flash umbrella things. The doctor followed me out and the receptionist came up to her and said, "The photographer is still really tight on time."
WHAT?! Wow, I just got rushed and bumped through my doctor visit for a freaking PHOTO SHOOT?! Really now?
Yup, I got rushed through my appointment so that my doctor could play dress up and have a photo shoot right after. So there I am getting my prescription filled as I watch the doctor walk over to the window, putting on her white lab jacket, as she starts her glamour shot session with the photographer; the scene was both extremely uncomfortable and annoying.
So I went over to the pharmacy to get my prescription filled and the girl helping me was nothing more than a bucket full of struggles. Not only did she have a boondoggle bracelet on [insert red flag number two here], but she also didn't know how to log into her computer and gave me the play by play of every question that popped up on her computer as they came up. #blessherheart The lady next to her had to end up helping me on her computer to put in my order.
So once I got my prescription back I did what any normal american would do, I went downstairs bought some juice and and took said juice and prescription to the second floor of an Urban Outfitters across the street and sat on a bench next to the book section that overlooked the street to take my pills and drink my juice...
Now while I was in Urban I got a phone call from a number I didn't know and anyone that knows me knows that I don't ever answer the phone calls of people that I do know and love let alone numbers that I don't know. So I screened the call and checked the voicemail afterward. It was the doctor. I had to listen to the message about seven times just to understand what she was trying to say in the message. I think it had something to do with calling her back.. "I would prefer it to like you to call me back" (add accent).. I'm pretty sure that was the only part that I could make out of the entire message.
So I called the number back and the doctor answered:
Me: Hey, I just got your message and I'm just giving you a call back.
Me: Yeah, I did.
Me: Wait, but I have already started the one earlier today.. so is it okay to start the other new one today too?
So I went back to the pharmacy and asked them If they would at least refund me the $40 z-pack that I was wrongfully prescribed, but because I had opened it they wouldn't take it back. I reminded them I wouldn't have opened it if the doctor wouldn't have told me to get it when I didn't need it in the first place.
Turns out, they could really care less.
I really hate Duane Reade pharmacy.
The doctor called in a penicillin prescription that I had to wait another 30 minutes for at the pharmacy.
Remember the little sweet innocent boondoggle bracelet worker girl? Well she helped me again, but even after the 15 minute heart to heart we had earlier when she gave me the computer play by play of her log in issues, she looked at me a little confused and asked, "Have I ever helped you before?" "Um, yeah. You did actually." She then smiled and asked what she could do to help me. She looked up my prescription and said it would be done in about 40 minutes and if that would be okay. I told her I had to get to a meeting in about 20 minutes and if there was any way that it could be filled by then. After asking, her whole expression changed as her smiled disappeared into a cold grimace as she looked at me like I had just told her that I had kidnapped her mother. Even her tone went cold as she muttered; "Take a seat. If they finish early... I'll call your name."
WHERE AM I? AND WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?! I mean really, am I the one on crazy pills around this joint?!
About 30 minutes passed before they called my name; by this point I was about two seconds from going all trenchcoat up in there...
It was a rough day to say the least.
Morals of the Post:
- Dear Duane Reade,
I will most likely hate you until the day I die. Which may be sooner than later since your doctors and pharmacists gave me a drug grab bag and have me taking random pills that I don't need. When you send me a refund for the whole Z-pack incident then we can negotiate a friendship, but until then, I will buy my Snickers, juice, and other delicious treats from the grocery store next store. You aren't the only drugstore on every corner. And if it starts raining cats and dogs and I'm stuck out in the cold without an umbrella... well, I'll will probably still buy an umbrella from you because somehow you can't find umbrellas anywhere else in the city when it rains (how are you the only ones with umbrellas?!)... but I'll tell you this much, I sure won't like buying it from you. I will also only be giving you dirty money for said umbrella purchase.
- To my New York Peeps,
I'm sorry I didn't get to see you while I was out there. Trust me, it's probably best that I didn't get you all streppy, but I miss you and we'll have to get together next time I come out when I'm not abouts to die.
- Roommate Brad was also sick and called in to work sick on Tuesday; so we both sat on the couch looking super nappy as we searched looking for the press release for the new iPhone announcement.. (which has been pre-ordered btdub and should be on its way soon #score #illkeepyouposted) in hopes for a little silver lining to the giant grey cloud that had been following me around for the majority of the week.
- In related news, Brad also let me use some of the NyQuill that he had picked up earlier that day; somehow by the end of the next day it only had about a sip left. When Brad got home and opened the cupboard turned to me and said, "Hey Hawk, you know you're not suppose to drink this like a soda right?" #whoops