SifuPhil
R.I.P. With Us In Spirit Only
- Location
- Pennsylvania, USA
After my bout with mortality it was decided by the powers-that-be to prescribe a dozen medications for my condition(s). You have to remember that for the last 35 years I have not visited a doctor nor seen the inside of a hospital.
I am saddened and shamed to report that my medical world virginity has been taken from me as a result of these recent events.
Suffice it to say that I am considerably below middle-class when it comes to financial affairs, so I decided (actually, it was decided FOR me) to enlist in the state medical assistance program, aka Medicaid (seems I'm too young for Medicare at this point).
Poor but still in possession of a laptop and 10 semi-functional fingers it occurred to me to apply online. The Medicaid website promised easy enrollment and quick results, so I set about entering my information. I thought it a bit strange when the first set of questions came up 5 minutes into my session ...
"Do you own a car?"
"Do you travel to other countries?"
"Do you enjoy fine dining?"
Being focused on my medical info I neglected to be on-guard against scams. Turns out this site was NOT the "official" state Medicaid one but a clever copy, designed to get me on as many spam lists as possible. I quickly backed out, glad that they had at least not gotten any vital info such as my SS number or medical info.
My second attempt at losing my medical cherry came when I finally discovered the REAL state website and began entering my info. Of course, everything was not unicorns and rainbows here, either. For some reason this demented site would not accept my username and password (which it had only moments before asked me to create).
Nothing like having your very reality questioned.
Quitting in a pique of anger I decided to try again the next day. Lo and behold I got into the members area and was presented with the next challenge -
"Choose a PCP".
My excitement was short-lived when I found out that the PCP referred to was a Primary Care Physician.
Eeny-meeny-miny-mo
Grab a doctor by the toe
If he's not in your plan, though,
Another office you will go.
Yeah - every doctor that I had ever heard mention of was either too far away or ...
Wait - now I have to choose a PLAN as well?!? Oy!
Okay, that's a lot easier - only two plans to choose from. I pick "A" and start looking for local docs participating in this plan. I find one whose name I can pronounce and is within a 2-bus-ride area, click "SUBMIT" (not sure I liked the implications of that word) and gave a happy sigh.
Yeah, right. As if losing my virginity would be THAT painless.
A week later I receive an email from the state asking me why I have not yet chosen a Plan or a PCP, and that I'd better hurry else they'd choose them FOR me in 7 days. Panicking and figuring - wrongly - that perhaps a different choice of Plan and PCP would work. I chose Plan "B" and a doctor whose name contained more syllables than a championship spelling bee, once again Submitted to the State's will and crossed my by-now arthritic fingers.
On the same day I received a letter - you know, the kind that appear in your mailbox - from the State, informing me that I had been assigned Plan "B" and a doctor whom I had never heard of and whose office was evidently used for the filming of the Marine Corps "Wilderness Survival" film series. Google Maps refused to show me where this supposed office was; they didn't even show any roads within a 3-mile radius.
Stunned and reeling from my lack of medications (I had run out of the hospital-supplied "sample pack" 2 weeks earlier) I was just shutting down my 'puter for the night when my email bell chirped. I checked out my latest arrival and saw that it was from the State, informing me that I had been accepted into Plan "A" and assigned the doctor I had originally chosen for Plan "B".
Are you following all this? I wasn't.
The upshot is that I ended up with 3 doctors and 2 Plans. This caused no end of merriment when I finally got an appointment with one of them. Well, actually that's not entirely true - I was informed by the receptionist when I called that the first available appointment would not be until August 31st.
That's when I had to get creative and draw upon my voluminous acting experience. I began breathing heavily, coughing and hacking into the phone and begging the receptionist to find an earlier appointment, for if I had to wait until August 31st I should surely be a cold corpse at that point. I even played an MP3 violin concerto over the phone from my laptop, to add to the general pathos of the situation. Throwing in a bribe of a dozen long-stemmed roses and a party-sized box of Godivas probably helped my efforts as well.
Turns out that a PA - a Physician's Assistant - was available 3 days from now at 8:30AM and that she could write new prescriptions for all my meds. Hallelujah!
Turns out that, because of our local transit authority's superior service, I had to get the first bus of the day - at 5:45AM - in order to catch the first transfer bus at 6:15AM, which would deposit me in front of the medical office at 6:35AM.
For an 8:30AM appointment, you may recall.
I spent the extra time feeding bits of Slim Jims to the sparrows and squirrels, some of them becoming so trusting of me that they perched on my shoulders and legs as I sat on my butt in the Handicapped Parking spot.
Then it began to rain. I had neglected to bring an umbrella.
Roughly two hours later I entered the receptionist / waiting area and there was a gasp followed by a deafening hush. I stood at the receptionist's window dripping with semi-solid squirrel and sparrow waste and smelling like a sausage factory, my ponytail undone and hanging limply over my face as I held up the Glad Bag full of empty prescription bottles with my shaking hand and mumbled "I'm ... I'm here f-f-for my drugs."
It was only after the receptionist finally calmed down and asked for my Plan information, to which I replied "A and B", that she pressed the little red button on her desk. When she courageously asked, as a final gambit for normalcy, whom I had chosen as my doctor and I gave her 3 names, she fled the office shrieking.
I'll never forget the day I lost my Medical World virginity.
I am saddened and shamed to report that my medical world virginity has been taken from me as a result of these recent events.
Suffice it to say that I am considerably below middle-class when it comes to financial affairs, so I decided (actually, it was decided FOR me) to enlist in the state medical assistance program, aka Medicaid (seems I'm too young for Medicare at this point).
Poor but still in possession of a laptop and 10 semi-functional fingers it occurred to me to apply online. The Medicaid website promised easy enrollment and quick results, so I set about entering my information. I thought it a bit strange when the first set of questions came up 5 minutes into my session ...
"Do you own a car?"
"Do you travel to other countries?"
"Do you enjoy fine dining?"
Being focused on my medical info I neglected to be on-guard against scams. Turns out this site was NOT the "official" state Medicaid one but a clever copy, designed to get me on as many spam lists as possible. I quickly backed out, glad that they had at least not gotten any vital info such as my SS number or medical info.
My second attempt at losing my medical cherry came when I finally discovered the REAL state website and began entering my info. Of course, everything was not unicorns and rainbows here, either. For some reason this demented site would not accept my username and password (which it had only moments before asked me to create).
Nothing like having your very reality questioned.
Quitting in a pique of anger I decided to try again the next day. Lo and behold I got into the members area and was presented with the next challenge -
"Choose a PCP".
My excitement was short-lived when I found out that the PCP referred to was a Primary Care Physician.
Eeny-meeny-miny-mo
Grab a doctor by the toe
If he's not in your plan, though,
Another office you will go.
Yeah - every doctor that I had ever heard mention of was either too far away or ...
Wait - now I have to choose a PLAN as well?!? Oy!
Okay, that's a lot easier - only two plans to choose from. I pick "A" and start looking for local docs participating in this plan. I find one whose name I can pronounce and is within a 2-bus-ride area, click "SUBMIT" (not sure I liked the implications of that word) and gave a happy sigh.
Yeah, right. As if losing my virginity would be THAT painless.
A week later I receive an email from the state asking me why I have not yet chosen a Plan or a PCP, and that I'd better hurry else they'd choose them FOR me in 7 days. Panicking and figuring - wrongly - that perhaps a different choice of Plan and PCP would work. I chose Plan "B" and a doctor whose name contained more syllables than a championship spelling bee, once again Submitted to the State's will and crossed my by-now arthritic fingers.
On the same day I received a letter - you know, the kind that appear in your mailbox - from the State, informing me that I had been assigned Plan "B" and a doctor whom I had never heard of and whose office was evidently used for the filming of the Marine Corps "Wilderness Survival" film series. Google Maps refused to show me where this supposed office was; they didn't even show any roads within a 3-mile radius.
Stunned and reeling from my lack of medications (I had run out of the hospital-supplied "sample pack" 2 weeks earlier) I was just shutting down my 'puter for the night when my email bell chirped. I checked out my latest arrival and saw that it was from the State, informing me that I had been accepted into Plan "A" and assigned the doctor I had originally chosen for Plan "B".
Are you following all this? I wasn't.
The upshot is that I ended up with 3 doctors and 2 Plans. This caused no end of merriment when I finally got an appointment with one of them. Well, actually that's not entirely true - I was informed by the receptionist when I called that the first available appointment would not be until August 31st.
That's when I had to get creative and draw upon my voluminous acting experience. I began breathing heavily, coughing and hacking into the phone and begging the receptionist to find an earlier appointment, for if I had to wait until August 31st I should surely be a cold corpse at that point. I even played an MP3 violin concerto over the phone from my laptop, to add to the general pathos of the situation. Throwing in a bribe of a dozen long-stemmed roses and a party-sized box of Godivas probably helped my efforts as well.
Turns out that a PA - a Physician's Assistant - was available 3 days from now at 8:30AM and that she could write new prescriptions for all my meds. Hallelujah!
Turns out that, because of our local transit authority's superior service, I had to get the first bus of the day - at 5:45AM - in order to catch the first transfer bus at 6:15AM, which would deposit me in front of the medical office at 6:35AM.
For an 8:30AM appointment, you may recall.
I spent the extra time feeding bits of Slim Jims to the sparrows and squirrels, some of them becoming so trusting of me that they perched on my shoulders and legs as I sat on my butt in the Handicapped Parking spot.
Then it began to rain. I had neglected to bring an umbrella.
Roughly two hours later I entered the receptionist / waiting area and there was a gasp followed by a deafening hush. I stood at the receptionist's window dripping with semi-solid squirrel and sparrow waste and smelling like a sausage factory, my ponytail undone and hanging limply over my face as I held up the Glad Bag full of empty prescription bottles with my shaking hand and mumbled "I'm ... I'm here f-f-for my drugs."
It was only after the receptionist finally calmed down and asked for my Plan information, to which I replied "A and B", that she pressed the little red button on her desk. When she courageously asked, as a final gambit for normalcy, whom I had chosen as my doctor and I gave her 3 names, she fled the office shrieking.
I'll never forget the day I lost my Medical World virginity.
