HIPAA my butt!

Am I mistaken or didn't Congress pass some bill that led every health care provider to ask me to sign a paper stating that I've "read" their 24 page, size 2 font privacy practices, in an effort to increase the security of personal health information such as what exotic diseases I may have had in the past or that I'm flagged at the ER for possible child abuse for the sheer number of visits I make there? Didn't they?

I thought so.

So tell me why a pharmacist would think it just fine and dandy to shout to me from across two counters:

"ARE YOU HERE FOR THE XANAX!?"
"Um, yeah," is my uncomfortable reply.
"The XANAX? You didn't pick it up last week?"
"No." I feel heat rising to my face.
"So you need to pick up the xanax? You're sure you didn't pick it up?"

I want to ask her if it's standard policy to let the entire store think that I not only have temporary psychological problems (there are only two pills in the prescription, which she also made known to the world) but I'm possibly an addict, trying to scam an extra dosage. Like your average sane person quickly evaluating whether or not it's worth it to pick a fight with the woman who controls my birth control and antibiotics, I decide just to pay for my XANAX!!!! and scurry home.

But it gets better. My copay is only 40 cents. I only have a credit card because I walked there in 90 degree heat, three miles, with Asher in the runner (so I actually do look like your sweaty, middle-class suburban housewife feening for a fix.) I don't want to use a credit card for a 40 cent transaction so I ask if they billed both of my insurances. Now I look high AND cheap.

I mention my other insurance, which requires my husband's social. So what does she do? Shout for it!

"So you're the spouse?"
"Yes!" I shout back.

"I'm an unemployed, overeducated housewife with a deployed husband who I depend on for life, limb, and healthcare! Are you happy now? Do you SEE WHY I need the xanax?"

Ok so I didn't say THAT. But I did give a really pissed off nod.

"What's his social?"

I open my mouth and think better. I push my military ID card across the counter and say, "It's on the back."

Turns out it's more expensive to bill both insurances and, like an erstwhile abs-of-steel popstar who broadcasts to the universe her downward spiral into Redneck-dom, she redeems herself. She walks around the two counters leans and whispers, "Just sign for it, you can pay for it later."

Aww. Thanks peaches. *Air kisses*