As an independent business person, I now shoulder the responsibility of paying for my health care in full. I was on one of those blasted COBRA plans for a while, but that ran out. After my financial consultant did an exhaustive search of the marketplace, I finally got hooked up with a new insurance provider. And, per his directive, I steered completely clear of those Obamacare exchanges which he predicts will promptly collapse in a year or two.
So, it's extra money outgoing every month. My deductible is sky high but I'll hit it quickly when I get run over by a bus on Wilshire Boulevard. That said, I am not actively seeking a speeding bus on Wilshire Boulevard. But, it's something that I have to do because I do take care of myself. Plus I like my doctors and I am keeping my doctors.
But, even with this new but necessary hassle, I have uncovered a bright side to it all. The silver lining that supposedly exists with every dark cloud. Pick whatever your favorite metaphor is.
Because I changed my health plan coverage, I never again have to walk into a CVS pharmacy. Praise God.
About ten years ago, I did all my regular prescriptions at the pharmacy embedded in the Ralph's Supermarket in Westwood. Okay, it wasn't exactly like when I was a kid and you got the personal care and attention of your local drug store proprietor, in my case, either Mr. Goldstein or Mr. Post. But the Ralph's pharmacists were very professional and nice to deal with. I would use their automated refill phone line to call in and then I simply picked up my prescriptions somewhere between the milk refrigerator and the frozen food counter.
My last regular employer, however, changed health care companies several years later and you were required to get all your prescriptions either by mail or at a CVS pharmacy near you. The good news is that there was a CVS in my neighborhood. The bad news is that this CVS might as well have been in Islamabad. Or Tijuana. Or Tokyo. Or anyplace except America.
Okay, given the diverse nature of the metropolis in which I live, I can expect to be confronted by a variety of nationalities, races, and creeds as I go about my weekly errands. At the CVS near me, every single person behind the pharmacy counter is either Arabic or Asian. That wasn't a problem for me. Until I started to actually try and get my prescriptions.
First off, there is always a line of at least six or seven people waiting. Part of the problem here is that there is always a language barrier between the customer and the pharmacy worker. I might be crazy but I still like it when I get to press "1" to continue in English. At this CVS, it's "4." Right behind Chinese, Arabic, and Spanish.
So, as a result, nobody can get their prescriptions picked up in under an hour. And don't expect them to be correct either. Probably half of the time that I used CVS for renewals I called in electronically, the orders were A) not ready B) wrong or C) needing a doctor call that never seemed to get made. Meanwhile, you'd stand there for 45 minutes and keep hearing the same announcement over the PA.
"Pharmacy call holding on Line 1."
"Pharmacy call holding on Line 2."
"Pharmacy call holding on Line 3."
This was sheer torture. I thought about seeking out another CVS outlet but friends told me they were just as bad. I started to wonder if CVS was a plot against Americans. Forget about the damage that can be done by Ebola Al Qaeda or ISIS. The really efficient way to kill Americans is by fucking up their statins and pain medication at your neighborhood CVS.
So, when I was at last relieved of this burden by switching health care plans, I hightailed it right back to Ralph's. And, yes, it is an international conclave behind that counter, too. But all of them speak perfect English. When I asked the head guy to call CVS and get my prescriptions moved, he was happy to do so.
"We're doing that a lot lately."
No shit, Sherlock.
And when he loaded me into their system, he immediately told me that my Celebrex was not covered by my new plan. I explained that nobody covers it and I've been paying full price for several years. The druggist then stunned the heck out of me.
"Here's a link to a website where you can get discount coupons for Celebrex."
Me. Jaw. Floor.
The druggist welcomed me back to the fold. And now, when I pass by the CVS hell hole I used to visit, I only feel compassion for the folks in there. Those waiting in front of the counter since yesterday. Trying to spell the word "Crestor" to somebody who doesn't even use our alphabet.
Dinner last night: Hamburger and salad.
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