Background--the Army ruled me disabled in 2002, and the government put me on Social Security for post-traumatic stress disorder. I'm ineligible for veteran's benefits, so I rely on Medicare and Medicaid. I live in a cluster apartment in downtown Indianapolis, which means support staff are available 16 hours a day. They handle my medication--or so I thought. But back to my story.
After the accident, two other people and I were taken to the ER. The doc there said there was some extensive muscle damage to my back and neck. He prescribed ibuprofin (600 mg), flexeril, and darvocet. I was discharged after about an hour--pretty dang good for a big-city hospital.
The problem is I'm not improving. I've had trouble walking--it's like my legs can barely hold my weight. I move slowly and with a good deal of difficulty. I've swooned a few times from the pain. I'm often nauseated. I went to see my GP the other day, and he's concerned there may be some fractures. He ordered X-rays of my back and neck, which I had today. I'm still waiting to hear the results, but I figure if something was busted I'd have heard by now.
That's not the suck. This is: Staff at my apartment told me that I needed to get my med card updated so they could legally give me the stuff the doc prescribed: Ibuprofin, Flexeril, Darvocet. The nurse, who had been by the complex earlier in the week, had failed to update it. They told me that I needed to go to her office. Today. Arrange my own transportation.
I called my friend/associate pastor, Rene, and explained the situation. God bless her, she took me to the clinic. Although we were the only people in the waiting room, it took well over an hour to get the meds filled. The nurse messed up last time she did the meds--she wrote the doc's order down wrong and it led to me being admitted to the hospital after a few days of taking three times the recommended dose of klonopin. Wanting to make sure this didn't happen again, I asked her to let me see the med card.
She was angry--even Rene thought the woman had an attitude problem. When I checked the card, I found that she'd messed it up--she hadn't put down the Flexeril or the Darvocet. I pointed it out to her, and she grabbed the med card and med box and stormed off.
A short time later, she and a few other nurses came out. They basically gave me a lecture on protocol, then handed me the card. I checked it--everything looked fine. Rene and I left.
Rene exclaimed "That was ridiculous!" I told her this was normal. She took me home, but I get the feeling she wanted to take me back to the ER. I told her I'd call 911 if it got worse, then took the stuff to the office.
The nurse messed up the med card again. I told staff I was in too much pain to deal with it, then got the "We believe you're legitimately in pain" lecture. I went back to my apartment, laid down, and that's the last thing I remember.
I've seriously considered praying to die...