I’ve spent the last four days being bounced between my pharmacy, my doctor, and my oh so wonderful insurance company trying to get a prescription refilled. 

It’s a controlled substance and as someone who once worked with controlled drugs and had the pleasure of working with DEA agents for inventory audits, I understand the complications that can be involved—but geez. I just need my drugs!

Anyway, I called back to my doctor’s office this morning to let them know that everything is finally resolved and to thank them for their help. Normally I don’t have to wait on the phone to talk to someone but this morning, I was put into a queue where the automated and somewhat ominous voice response told me, “You are the third caller. We will deal with you as soon as possible.”

“Deal with you”?

Interesting choice of words. How about “help you”? Or “assist you”? Or even something as simple as “we’ll be with you momentarily.”

Any time I hear the phrase “deal with you”, all I can think of is Admiral Piett’s conversation with Darth Vader in Return of the Jedi.

Admiral Piett: Shall I hold them?
Darth Vader: No. Leave them to me. I will deal with them myself.

Vader. That’s not the kind of help I want from my doctor’s office.

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It’s just a few little pills, right?

They shouldn’t be too hard to swallow—and yet, as much as I need to take them tomorrow morning and start down a path to getting healthy, I’m hesitant.

Maybe it was the big red warning on the label complete with words like:

* serious side effects
* may cause liver damage
* may cause lung damage
* may cause kidney damage
* may cause a decrease in the number of blood cells made by your bone marrow
* may decrease the activity of your immune system

Other side effects include:

* headache
* hair loss
* blurred vision
...and the list goes on.

Still, it’s the right thing to do. The efficacy rate is high and I sure could use some improvements in my life.

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