Crossed Wires

 Every three months or so, I must contact my neurologist at Kasih Ibu Hospital in order to obtain a new prescription for a med called Pregabalin, or rather the doctor's adjustment of a basic Pregabalin formula to best suit my particular complaint, which is of a feeling of intense inner heat from my chest to the top of my head. This is experienced, according to the doctor, by roughly 20 percent of people having an autoimmune disease, and of course it is not truly 'heat', but just a messed up response to who knows what from the central nervous system. 

Anyway, this will seem strange to Americans, who get their prescription refills quite simply through communication between their doctor's office and the patient's preferred pharmacy. Not so in Indonesia. Here I must contact both my doctor and the ER. The ER then sends a message to the doctor and the doctor sends a new prescription to the ER. I will then be informed when the ER has received the new prescription, at which time I must drive to the hospital, pick up the prescription, and take it to a local pharmacy (I could get at the hospital, but the price would be nearly double that of the pharmacy). 

But what happens when the doctor fails to communicate with the folks in the ER? That's what I found out a few weeks ago when I tried to reorder the Rx as usual. No communication between the doctor and the ER. In fact, the doctor did not even read my message, nor did he read the next two that I sent. Calling the ER availed me nothing, as they simply stated that the doctor had not replied to their request. Uh yeah, I know that. 

So I ran out of the medication, and sure enough began to suffer the daily onslaught of the old symptom. Being on fire at the core of one's being does not do much for the mood, and so it happened ultimately that I found no other option than to go to the hospital myself, storm into the ER, slap the old Rx down on the counter and exclaim "Aku mau resep ini, sekarang juga!" Which means 'I want this prescription NOW!'

Well, suddenly they were able to do something about it. A nurse scurried to the doctor's office, one short hall away, and returned forthwith with the written prescription. 

Happily, the doc gives me three months, more or less, worth of these pills (which is really nice of him). I do worry, however, that the same thing will happen next time around, as I see on my phone that he has STILL not read my messages. Lol. 

One thing is for sure--I'm gonna contact him plenty early next time I'm running low on the pills, and then just make another appearance if I'm receiving no reply.