I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. This may sound cliché, but it’s true. I have been sick going on two weeks and I just might snap. (or die, one or the other) I’m also sick and tired of this sorry assed health care system we are all forced to endure. Service, value and satisfaction are atrocious at every level of this system. Let me walk you through my recent experience as a demonstration of this statement. By the end, hopefully you will be as angry as me; ready to start running BMW’s off the road and choke slamming people at the pharmacy.

Let’s start with the doctors:

These overpaid pricks don’t listen to a damn word you say. They simply fill out prescriptions and nod their heads as you tell them your tale of sorrow. After you have finished speaking your doctor will check his watch, tell you he hopes you feel better, and hand you a prescription or two as he rushes off to his next appointment. I’m glad I paid a co-pay, not to mention my astronomical health insurance premium, to be treated like a nuisance. If I was looking for that kind of shit I would have taken my $20 bill to a high-end titty bar.

Next stop: the pharmacy.

I approach the pharmacy counter with two prescriptions in hand. Under the counter is a really slick sign portraying a friendly, wizened old white guy, personally handing over a prescription to an elderly customer. This particular pharmacy’s slogan is, “With Us, It’s Personal.” Sounds comforting, right? Not so fast! Seems they mean, “With Us, It’s Personal” in a guido, dagoish, mafia sort of way. You know, the old, “Tony, it’s not personal, it’s all business - capisce?” Followed by the speaker putting 47 rounds, in a very businesslike manner, into Tony. Except with this drug store someone must have pissed them off enough so that they have moved right past business to a personal sort of vendetta against the customer. I stroll up to the counter and a charming young woman with enough tattoos to put the average NBA power forward to shame stares at me. There is no “hello”, or “can I help you”, just a threatening stare. I hand her the prescriptions. She throws them on a pile and she says, “three hours”. Looming over her shoulder is a corporate poster proclaiming, “Most prescriptions filled while you wait”. I guess this is a somewhat subjective policy so I decided not to challenge the angry, work-release, tattooed pharmacy troll on it.

Three hours later a less intimidating but equally unfriendly women informs me my bill is $148. Long story short, the doctor wrote both prescriptions for name brands. More than likely some scum sucking, bottom feeding, piece of shit drug rep was behind this horseshit. After an excruciating two step with my doctor’s voice prompt system I managed to have the generic prescription faxed over and finally was on my way home, in the dark, sick and pissed off.

Why am I telling you all this? In case you hadn’t noticed, the word “angry” appears in the name of the website, and I am mighty pissed off. It’s over week later and I feel as bad as I did a week ago. So, keep an eye out for the next installment of this series as I rant about the Hospital, the ICU, and the bedside administration of last rights, as my health and well being steadily deteriorate as I attempt to navigate through our profit based, patient unfriendly health care system.