"Sharon Barren. My RE just called in a prescription for ovidrel."
The pharmacist shook his head. "We haven't gotten any phone calls today."
"Are you freakin' kidding me?" Sharon fumed and stormed out of the pharmacy to go upstairs to the clinic.
As she feared, Frida, the terrible receptionist, was working the desk. Frida made her stand at the desk for a full fifteen minutes before she finally took a break from answering the phones and sipping her latte to give Sharon a raised eyebrow.
"Are you a new patient?"
"Frida, it's me. Sharon Barren. I was just here this morning."
"Uh huh," Frida yawned. "Dr. Knowall will see you in a few minutes. He's just running a little late."
"I don't have an appointment," Sharon pointed out. "I just need a new ovidrel prescription. My trigger shot didn't come in my meds box. I just called you a few minutes ago and you said you'd call it in downstairs. I went to the pharmacy and they said you never called."
"They're sort of liars downstairs." Frida sighed loudly. "Whatever. I'll get on it."
A few minutes later, she came out of the back offices with a slip of paper that she shoved across the counter.
Sharon left without thanking her and filled the prescription downstairs. There was still time to get to work, but Sharon said fuck it and went home to read trashy chicklit books and surf her favourite infertility blogs.
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