I'm on an antibiotic. I'm not going to say why because I believe that boundaries are our friends, and I know where this kind of conversation can lead and I don't want to hear about your medical problems. It's not that I don't care, it's just that ... who am I trying to fool? I don't care. The only reason I bring up my problem is to rant. Earlier in the week, my doctor prescribed a course of treatment: 3 pills for 3 days. Simple enough. So, I took the prescription to the pharmacy and learned that my insurance company would only pay for 2 pills at a time. Sure, that makes sense. I mean, paper-pushing penny-pinchers clearly have a MUCH better idea about what I need than MY DOCTOR. I took my 2 pills and came home.
Yesterday, I called in my "refill." I've just returned from the pharmacy. Seems the insurance company won't pay for me to take 3 pills in one week, no matter what MY DOCTOR (you know, the guy with the medical degree) thinks is an appropriate course of treatment. I tried to explain to the pharmacist that we've already tried it the insurance company's way and it didn't work. She was sympathetic but in the end, I lost the battle. In my frustration, I said, "You know, if this was Viagra, the insurance company would give me as much as I wanted anytime I wanted it." She nodded sympathetically, leaned toward me and muttered, "Yeah, we all know who makes these laws." Horny frustrated old men, that's who.
I took my outrage to Starbucks to refill my coffee supply. Good thing the insurance company isn't standing between me and my caffiene. Heads would roll and cities would burn, I tell you! As I waited for my beverage, I glanced around. Everywhere I looked, students had their noses buried in textbooks - on a holiday weekend. Warmed this cynical professor's heart. None of them were studying history and none of them were my students, but at least I'm not ready to throttle anyone anymore.
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