Sorted out for E’s and Whizz

So today, I had to go and collect an update to my prescription meds. I phoned my local health care provider on Tuesday to make an appointment with my GP. Surprise, surprise they had nothing available for today (Thursday) or even Friday. As an aside, does anyone know of any illnesses that book a slot in your diary? Me neither.

Anyway, so, I mention to the appointments person that my meds will run out on Saturday, and I need the appointment to get a new prescription. She then fires me through to the repeat prescriptions person, or rather, transfers the call to a person sat on the other side of the desk. This gravelly voiced lady informs me that the prescription will be ready to collect after 4pm on Thursday. All well and good, except I’m not authorised to get automatically repeating scripts. A fact I only find out at 4:15pm on Thursday, as I hold up the queue of swine flu sufferers, whilst the receptionist vainly attempts to find my script.

After 20 minutes of to-ing and fro-ing, she finally goes to confront some random GP and gets me a form. I then have to trot over to the dispensary, sign the form and hand it over. Now, this is the bit I don’t understand. Why does it then take half an hour to actually get your mitts on the drugs? How hard is it to read the form, go to the shelf, remove the boxes, stick them in the bag and hand them over? And why does the action have to pass through four sets of hands? It’s not as if they have to count the bloody pills into bottles any more. They just give you a box of them. Christ, there were actual sick people in there, I could have caught anything whilst I waited. I especially didn’t have to hear the large truck driver discussing his toilet habits and stool types as he moaned about his recent weight gain. Is it any wonder I’m depressed??


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