As the wait for my misdelivered-to-Oregon shower chair increased, I amused myself by imagining what in the world it could take so long to get from Oregon.
As we neared the two week mark Tuesday, I decided planes, trains and automobiles were out because it wouldn’t take that long to get here from Oregon.
My latest travel fantasy was that they employed a 16th century English merchantmen ship to travel around the bottom of South America and up the East Coast to me. However, they ran into problems on the East Coast of the Spanish Main and were attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts who stole the shower chair.
But it all came to naught when I got a text from my wheelchair rep telling me that it was coming next Monday. I pointed out that that was a long time for a trip from Oregon and his response was call me.
I asked Mom to call and he apparently told her that the chair was sitting in a warehouse, not on a merchantman. I don't know how long it has been in the warehouse. I don't know whether it was even in Oregon. I do know that I am pretty disgusted.
And that wasn't the only issue with the healthcare industry.
The drug I am taking for Friedreich's ataxia was late this month, so we called, or Mom did. They said that I need a new prescription. That would be more believable if:
- They had not requested a new prescription in January. They said this time that that prescription was just for insurance. I don't know what that means.
- More importantly, it says on my bottle of the medicine that I have six refills left.
Is it any wonder that no one likes the healthcare industry?
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