Monday, April 8, 2013

Backroads Val. Big Game Hunter.

I am on a quest to find the elusive meningococcal vaccine.

Shh...I am creeping behind the ferns, wearing my pith helmet and khaki cargo vest, an extra-large butterfly net in hand. I WILL bag a meningococcal vaccine this week. Genius needs to get one for dorm-living in college. He is ready to send in his health documentation, and wants that shot yesterday. Might even display it on the wall like a hunting trophy.

Funny. Genius is the kid who always made his little brother go first for a flu shot. Hates needles. Was told with an eye roll and exaggerated sigh by a candy-striper-looking young syringe-wielder at the doctor's office one year to "Just STAY STILL!" Now he thinks he's off to get this meningococcal vaccine on his own. I beg to differ. But first I have to ensnare that meningococcal vaccine, shoot it right between the eyes, taking care not to ruin the pelt.

The county health center will not give Genius a meningococcal vaccination because he has insurance. "Go to his regular doctor," the nurse advised. Even though when he was a kid, the doctor said, "Go to the county health center." Times, they have a-changed. So much, in fact, that the county health nurse suggested Walgreens for all of our vaccination needs.

The doctor's office acted like I was CRAZY, wanting a meningitis shot. Like I had asked for my boy to be injected with meningitis. The phone-answerer put me on hold to investigate such a foolish wish. The nurse who eventually picked up my call put me on hold again. Twice. Another gal cut in to see why I was cooling my ear in her virtual waiting room. Put me on hold. Said the nurse's name, and that she was ready to give me the information now. Transferred the call. Which the nurse let ring until it went to voice mail. Voice mail is apparently not dishing out meningococcal vaccines, either. I called back and got that nurse's extension number. She sounded surprised to hear from me. Val is not your usual patient's mother, easily intimidated. She holds onto her prey like a snapping turtle during a long, dry spell. Nurse said that the doctor does not give meningococcal shots. Oh. Silly me. I thought such a service might be provided by physician.

I DID manage to inform Nurse that Walgreens gives those shots. Oh, yes. Indeed. Walgreens gives them. You just need a prescription from the doctor first. Which she could fax to the pharmacy. Yeah. I said somebody would drop in to pick it up. That's what retired grandmas are for.

Next, I called our local Walgreens. Huh! A meningococcal vaccine, you say? What a most scathingly brilliant idea! Let's see if we have one of those. The female pharmacy rep put me on hold to check. A male picked up the phone. "Yes! We give that! Let me see if I have a dose in the refrigerator." Put me on hold. A different female picked up. "Uh...meningococcal vaccination? We don't give that. Who said? Huh! We don't give it. Maybe in the future. But not now. Why did that guy who said he was the pharmacist say we did? And that he was checking the fridge? Well, he must have been confused. We don't give it."

I called the Walgreens two towns over. The one recommended by the county health nurse. Was put on automated hold for ten minutes. One caller ahead of me. My call will be next. Woman picked up the phone. Impatient. "Yes. We give that. Yes. You need a doctor's prescription. Twenty-four hours a day we will give that shot."

Alrighty then. The big game hunter returns from safari. Successful. All that's missing is the picture of me standing with my foot on top of the meningococcal vaccine, its tongue lolling listlessly from its lifeless mouth.

5 comments:

  1. Good hunting. May your quest at Walgreens be expeditious and efficient. Yeah, I know, good luck with that. Just hope it's the vaccine and not Genius who ends up with a lolling and listless tongue.

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  2. Leenie, I'm not sure you're right. A teenaged boy, so full of himself since he's about to leave for college where he will live ON HIS OWN...a lolling tongue, incapable of smart-aleck remarks--that might be, as Martha says, "a good thing."

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  3. Some days I get more mental exercise from the run around than I do working a crossword puzzle. The whole world is dumbing down. Don't let it happen Val.

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  4. They're really putting you through the wringer.

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  5. Leenie,
    My Walgreens safari was fraught with danger. A multitude of hunters converged upon the watering hole at the time we arrived. The porters were surly. The prey was later examined, AFTER the conquest, to see if it was actually the prey we were stalking. Don't get me started.

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    Sioux,
    So sorry, Madam, to interject my opinion into my own comment section while you and Leenie are accepting the Newest-BFFs-Who-Traveled-the-Farthest Award at the Random-People-Who-Dropped-By Workshop. Ahem. Just when I think Genius is beyond hope, having been born without a thinking-of-others bone in his body...he buys me two moon pies at a gas station on the way home from his W.Y.S.E. State Competition this afternoon.

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    Linda,
    Baby steps. I have to hold back. Just this morning, I refrained from honking, and merely held my hands up in a WTF gesture when a school bus from the district where we live rolled through a stop sign to cross my path without even slowing down. AND I refrained from hollering, "What are YOU looking at?" to the driver, who stared at my handsless steering wheel instead of paying attention to the road and stop signs and kids probably mooning tailgaters out the back door of the bus.

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    Stephen,
    C'mon! You've gotta give me more to work with here. How am I gonna riff on that polite comment? If only they WOULD put me through the wringer, my profile would be a lot more svelte.

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