I took care of a woman today who REFUSED to leave the emergency department because she felt fine, but tonight she MIGHT have the same pain she’s been having for MONTHS.  “Where’s the pain?” I ask.  “EVERYWHERE!” she responds, her response punctuated by a glare that dared me to ask any clarifying question.  I explain that the emergency department is not generally the best place to sort out things that have been going on for months.  She insists that she can’t get an appointment with her primary care doctor, which is the clinic affiliated with the hospital. I have the secretary log in to the system to make an appointment for her.  When I tell her that it’s at 8:40 in the morning, she informs me that she can not make a doctor’s appointment that early because the people who could drive her work.  I suggest the bus.  From the look she gave me, you would have thought that I suggested she clean the floor of the bus with her tongue on the way there.  She responded with, “I’ve never ridden the bus in my life!”

What I thought, but didn’t say: Well, bitch, I’ve ridden the bus, I routinely schedule appointments that happen before 9 AM, and maybe the fact that I can get my ass up and out the door is why I have Blue Cross Blue Shield instead of Medicaid. 

And then she asked me to call her damn prescriptions in to the pharmacy.  You can bet I was thrilled to inform her that one of them was for a controlled substance and absolutely would not be accepted if it were called in.  (Translation: so walk your butt down to the pharmacy if you want it.)