Yesterday I was all scared and nervous going to this damn doctor's appointment. And of course, I had nothing to be scared and/or nervous about.

Oh well.

Around 2pm, I got tired of just sitting around my house waiting to go to the hospital, so I trotted myself and Grace over to J's house for some moral support. Then around 2:40pm I realized I had to to get my butt in gear to get to the hospital in time. I wasn't paying attention to the time. It takes at least 30 minutes to get down to the hospital, and you should be a few minutes early.

I went flying down the highway, listening to the big band station on XM like I have been for a looooooong time. But for some reason I flicked it over to the 90s station and left it there, cranked quite high. "Signs" redone by Tesla came on the radio, and I was totally jammin'.

I got to the hospital and nearly ran over the gate guard. Oops. They've redone the gate there to make it more secure, and the gate guard was really close to the curb. Don't worry -- I apologized. It's awfully nice to see a real military guy at the gate, though. The other two bases around here use Rent-A-Cops as gate guards.

I scored an AWESOME parking spot at the hospital. See, if you go into the walk-in emergency room entrance (not the one they bring people in when you come in by ambulance), there is an elevator right inside that takes you directly to the OB/GYN clinic. I found this out when I was pregnant. I like to use the stairs, myself, since any exercise when you're as pudgy as I am is a benefit, but if you park anywhere else, you have to walk through the entire family care center and the hospital before you get to where you are going.

I check in, and am immediately called back to a room. How often does that happen?? And my corpsman (aka Hospitalman, aka HM, which is the person who takes your vitals) was this absolutely gorgeous, fit, trim, handsome, bald, dark black guy who smelled GOOD. AND when he took my pulse his hands were warm!! Shocking!!

When I was pregnant, I always got the HMs with the frigid hands taking my pulse, and the gel warmer was always broken. So when they needed to listen to the baby's heartbeat, I was always subjected to frigidly cold gel on my belly. Not fun.

Before the HM took me back to my room, he'd asked if I needed to go to the restroom. Of course, I did. As I was grabbing some toilet paper, I bashed my hand against the steel toilet paper holder and managed to cut a chunk of flesh out of my hand.

But hey, if you're going to do injury to yourself, I guess the best place to do it is in a hospital!!!

I came out of the bathroom, sheepishly holding a paper towel to my hand as it bled profusely. Fortunately the HM was able to clean the wound with alcohol (oweee!) and bandage me up.

I'm such a klutz.

So I had my exam, and apparently everything is hunky-dory okay!! YAY!! I was so nervous. Now I don't have to worry for a while. How cool is that??

I also asked for a refill on my prenatal vitamins as well as my birth control pills. Prenatals are free from the hospital, and free is always good. The doctor refilled my prescriptions and sent me on my way.

I headed down to the pharmacy and got a number. Because I am an honest person, I grabbed a B number. See, there are three sets of numbers when you get to the pharmacy. The machine will spit out an A number if you're in uniform or you're coming from the ER, a B number if you're a regular joe, and a C number if you're hospital staff. A numbers get priority, then Cs, and finally the Bs. However, at my hospital you are on your honor to grab the correct number. Other hospitals have a person there to make sure you get the right number. I'm thinking we need that system. They'd gotten all the way to B488 (I was B490) when about eight people were called ahead of me, all with A numbers. None of them were in uniform, and I doubt they all came from the ER. By the time I was called to the window, I'd already been waiting for 45 minutes.

The woman at the window took my ID and my information and sent me back to the waiting room so my prescriptions could be filled. This is normal procedure, although it's usually a quick wait since all they have to do is grab a box of BCPs and a bottle of prenatals off the shelf and throw stickers on them. Yesterday, however, I waited. And waited. And waited some more.

Finally I was called. Not only was I not being given a 6-month supply of my BCPs, which I was supposed to get, but I was given the generic version. I don't really care about the generic version versus the name-brand, but a wee bit of warning would have been nice. I thought at first they were giving me the wrong pill. I asked the pharmacy technician if she would call the doctor to fix my prescription so I could get six months at a time, and she snippily informed me that it was after 4pm, and she wasn't sure if the doctor would even be in the clinic still. I snippily responded to her that if people had been getting the correct number out of the machine, I would have been seen before 4pm.

Some of the pharmacy techs there have the rudest attitudes, and I don't understand why. It's like when Grace was prescribed the lactic acid lotion by the dermatologist, and because he had signed the "dispense as written" line instead of the "substitution allowed" line, it couldn't be filled at the military pharmacy. The tech told me she couldn't call the dermatologist to get him to change it because he'd signed on the wrong line. But at the Target pharmacy, when the technicians found out that my insurance wouldn't cover the name-brand lotion since a generic was available, somehow they were able to call the dermatologist and have the prescription changed. Imagine that!

Finally I got the six months of my BCP and my prenatals after waiting for an hour and a half. And what's funny is the girl who had taken my prescription originally had decided she didn't want to deal with me anymore and gave my prescription over to someone else. The new lady was so kind and nice. Maybe it's just military pharmacy techs that are rude. Or maybe it's just the pregnant ones. I did notice that both times I've had issues with military pharmacy techs they were pregnant. Who knows?

But now I'm set for at least another year, so life is good. I'm kind of bummed that I won't be able to have another child while living here. The OB clinic at this hospital won an award just a few weeks ago as the best OB clinic in the military. Plus it's been completely remodeled, and it would be just lovely. I had Grace during the remodel, so I actually delivered on the floor for surgery recovery.

Oh well. I will live.