A Normal Cargiver Day

There’s No Such Thing as a Two-Minute Phone Call
The pharmacy delivered an antibiotic I wasn’t expecting. My husband had finished his last course months ago, so I need to call his primary care doctor about it. We just saw her last week, and she didn’t mention it. I attend all of his doctor appointments because of memory issues.
His memory issues. Mine are still developing.
The antibiotic is probably just a mistake, but I have to be sure. I’ll make the call after we get home from his pulmonology appointment this morning. Normally, I’d call now and leave a message, but more than once someone called back while I was sitting in another doctor’s office. Awkward.
I completed the online check-in for the pulmonology appointment yesterday and confirmed that we’re okay with seeing the physician assistant. Then they called twice and sent multiple texts and emails. Now they’re calling again. This visit is required by insurance for the new BiPAP machine. We can’t skip it.
Why all the calls?
Turns out they want us to understand pulmonology won’t be discussed at the pulmonology appointment.
Huh?
Ding.
It’s a text from my husband’s pain doctor asking me to check in for tomorrow’s appointment. I click all the boxes and that one’s done.
You know how some things are necessary and others are “nice to have”? It’d be nice to have two minutes to think.
The antibiotic phone call hasn’t even started, and it’s been officially postponed until after lunch.
It’s almost time to leave for the appointment. I help my husband get ready, make sure we have his ID and insurance cards. Make sure I have the names and dosages of the medications we need refilled. There’s enough time to fill the BiPAP chamber with water and wash the hose and mask. Okay, off we go.
We arrive fifteen minutes early, as requested, and spend them in the waiting room doing Sudoku on my phone.
We leave with instructions for two new tests, a follow-up appointment, and the prescription refills I requested.
Sent to wrong pharmacy.
Actually, the prescriptions were sent to two pharmacies.
We go to what I’ll call Pharmacy 1 to pick up different medications from other providers. We have an overabundance. Of providers and prescriptions. And now pharmacies. I notice they’re beginning to fill the prescriptions we were assured had been canceled. I ask them not to fill those. I don’t have the strength to sort this out any further. I’ll just let the other pharmacy do it.
The pharmacist suggests a flu shot while we’re here.
We’re here. It’ll save a trip. I take the win.
Back home, I read the paperwork on the two new tests. It says I’ll need a new cell phone app for the first test. I’m advised to call the insurance company to see if they’ll cover it at all. The other test involves a phone call to arrange an appointment. I hope I remember to download that app.
I call Pharmacy 2 to see if they got the prescriptions from the pulmonologist. They did, and they’ll deliver them tomorrow. That makes two for the home team.
I slam down some lunch and try to explain to my husband what is going on.
I call the hospital to schedule the test. It’s called a sniff test. I kid you not.
While I’m on the phone, the pulmonologist’s office beeps in. I let it go to voicemail. Probably a mistake.
Then I call the insurance company to check coverage. I enter my husband’s date of birth and his ridiculously long insurance ID number as requested by the robot. I play along until it decides it’s all right to transfer me to a human. Then I repeat all of that to the human. She puts me on hold but eventually comes back with good news. Well, good news and bad news. It’s covered but needs prior authorization.
Another phone call.
I call the pulmonologist’s office about the prior authorization. I’m on hold for another ten minutes before I give up and leave a message. I still don’t know why they beeped in earlier.
Finally, I get to make that call from this morning. Who was I calling again? Right, the doctor about the antibiotic.
The nurse at the primary care office actually answers. No phone tag this time. Turns out the whole thing was a mistake.
I don’t have the bandwidth to care who made it or why. I thank her and remove the tablet from my husband’s pill organizer.
Time to make dinner.