I have a urinary tract infection. I get them every so often and haven't had one in a while. I noticed I was peeing like every 5 minutes yesterday and I felt like crap. Ugh. But did it have to be *this* week? I had a few unexpected bills crop up and I don't get paid until the 15th. I asked my pharmacist and she told me to buy some AZO and some cranberry pills until I could get to a doctor. I asked her if she knew of anyone who could write a prescription for antibiotics without actually seeing me. I knew what I had and what I needed, I just needed someone to write it. She referred me to a doctor who does walk-ins. She asked if I wanted her to call and ask how much it would be. I said yes. He said $40. Normally it would be $60 but he'd take off $20. But $40 is still more than I have in my checking account. And so I made the phone call I dreaded to make. I explained the situation to my parents.
I lost my health insurance when I quit my last job. The new job doesn't offer it and at the moment I can't afford to sign up for government health care. My mom said she would put some money in my account Friday afternoon after my dad got paid. My dad is 70 and still working 40 hours a week to keep my parents afloat and here I am living off of them when they are both on social security. It stings. This is not the life I imagined. This is not what I signed up for.
And so I woke up early and made it to the doctor's office right at 9 when they opened. When I stepped off the bus, I burst into tears. I knew I was about to walk into a doctor's office and beg for mercy. By the time I figured out where I was supposed to be, it was a full on ugly cry. I have passed this office more times that I can count and never noticed it. It's shoved in among a beer mart, mobile phone store, and a handful of takeout restaurants. It's not at all marked. I walk in the door to this multi level building that is not handicapped accessible. I opened the door. The first thing I notice is the smell. It smells strongly of industrial strength cleaner/ deodorizer. Like someone tried too hard to make it smell clean. I finally find the right door, I compose myself and I walk in. It's a dimly lit place with a woman sitting behind a plexiglass window. The waiting room is full of mismatched furniture but it is neat and tidy. She finally looks up from her cell phone and asks what she can do for me. I burst into tears again. I tell her about the conversation yesterday and tell her "but I don't have any money. Can I either write you a check to cash later on today, pay half now and half on my lunch break, or I can just fill out the paperwork now and come back later to see the doctor". She tells me to wait while she asks the doctor. She comes back and says I can pay half now and half later. I fill out the paperwork and then wait my turn. She instructs me to go into the bathroom and pee in a cup and leave it on the back of the toilet. It was literally a clear solo cup and the bathroom was reminiscent of a gas station bathroom. And not the Wawa ones or Sheetz ones. I cry harder. This is not the life I imagined. This is not what I signed up for.
It doesn't take long for them to call me back. The doctor, a very slight man, tells me I am "very sick". Well at least I'm not wasting money here... He takes out a blank sheet of notebook paper and begins writing. "Do you have any drug allergies?" "Codeine and prozac". "Family history?" "Yes." "For what?" "Literally everything." "You need to lose weight" (there it is). "I know. I'm down 45 lbs". His desk was a pile of papers and various prescription paraphernalia and freebies given by drug reps in the era of time gone by. No computers. Just a small man hand writing notes on notebook paper. He writes me a prescription for antibiotics and tells me that normally it would be a 3 day thing but he really thinks I need it for 7 days.
Sure, I felt sorry enough for myself but I also acknowledged my privilege. A week from now I will be signing up for health insurance and have enough money to pay all my bills and pay my parents back. But this particular doctor specializes in helping the unhoused and undocumented folks in the area. I get to go there once. But many people have to go there because they have no other choice. I don't have to choose between paying the doctor and paying my rent. I don't have to choose the doctor over food. And I get to come home to my house that is heated and has running water. I get to sit on my bed, pull out my computer and lament.
But it didn't make peeing into a solo cup any easier.
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