The Man: Fighting the Forces of Good Health

So, I have this rash. It’s painful, not to mention that I feel like the town leper when I shake hands with the good people at church.

I went to the doctor on Friday morning. He prescribed an antihistamine. A good antihistamine. I go to my pharmacy to pick up my prescription.

“Rivera, Rivera — what’s your first name?”

“Jay.”

“Was it just the one medication?”

“No, there should be two. A lotion and an antihistamine.”

She finds the antihistamine and hands it to me, while I sign two stickers and a receipt.

“Oh, you know what? Your insurer wouldn’t accept the other medication. We faxed your doctor and asked him to prescribe an alternative.”

It’s 4 p.m. and the somewhat helpful staff at my doctor’s office leaves the office by 4:30 p.m. to pick up their children, to catch the last few minutes of Oprah, to remind me that it isn’t about my health care needs. Who knows why they leave early? They just do.