BD: Big Duh?

My basal thermometer wandered off.

Actually I'm pretty sure it was assisted by my 19-month-old. But she's not telling, and neither is her sidekick the pink elephant.

However, I am sick of the rigid basal thermometer that I've been using since 2001. I'd really prefer a flex-tip (makes temping while half-asleep easier, as I tend to lack jaw control at that hour.)

I'd heard from many sources that the BD fever thermometers are as sensitive as the basal thermometers. But I'd never actually confirmed that, so I called up their technical support line (cue the laughter.)

I spoke with a very nice gentleman who was, at the very least, aware that his company sold basal thermometers. One point for BD. But then I asked the really tough question: what is the technical difference between the two?

Well, he said, the basal thermometers are more sensitive than the fever thermometers.

The basal thermometers are accurate within .1° of a degree, right?

Yes, he said. (He knew off the top of his head! Two points for BD.)

And is the fever thermometer accurate within, what, .2°?

No, he replied, the fever thermometer are accurate within .1°.

So . . . doesn't that mean they're equally sensitive?

No, he replied. Minus ten for BD.

But if they're both sensitive to within .1°, aren't they the same?

No, he said. The basal thermometers are used for something different than fevers.

Yeah, I've been using the BD basal thermometer for over 7 years. I know how they work. But usually fever thermometers are calibrated with a larger margin of error; the BD fever thermometers are a superior product (flattery can't hurt) and are sensitive within .1° just like the basal thermometers.

At this point, he asked to place me on hold. Oh sure, why the heck not.

After several minutes, he came back and informed me that the basal thermometers come packaged with charts and a free trial of charting software. Obviously the most crucial difference between the two!

Thanks for your help, I said. So, just to recap: the basal thermometers are accurate within .1°?

Yes, they are.

And the fever thermometers are accurate with .1°?

Yes. But-the-basal-thermometers-are-more-sensitive.

Got it. Thanks so much for your help!

*click* *blink blink*

You can feel free to repeat my experiment by dialing BD thermometer support at 1-800-511-9223. And now I'm off to buy my flex-tip BD fever thermometer.

Meg's All-In-One Holiday Rant & Gift Guide

Apparently I missed the memo that said the biggest shopping day of the year is now the day after Halloween. But somewhere between the diapers and the doctor appointments, they changed the rules on me, and Christmas got bumped up another 4 weeks. I suppose I should have smelled a rat when the Halloween decor at Kohl's was marked 70% off by October 15.

But I digress.

This year, in the interest of bettering customer service for all, I am providing (free!) tips to all retailers and retail employees to improve the travesty that is November/December shopping. (You're on your own for the New Year's sales.)

Tip #1: Can the Music
It's such a fine line, catering to a diverse customer base: those who may be shopping for Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, Atheist Kids Get Presents Day*, Winter Solstice, or who simply lacked the foresight to hibernate between October 12th and December 26th. However, I think I speak for the overwhelming majority of shoppers, regardless of faith tradition, when I say that absolutely anything by Alvin & the Chipmunks is against our religion.

*I love Dave Barry.

Tip #2: Take Five Minutes To Train The Seasonal Employees
The holiday season is rich in tradition. The origins of some of these traditions are often steeped in folklore or lost entirely. My dad invites us all to take turns punching the (NB: defrosted) turkey before it's placed in the oven. Retailers have the similarly mystifying ritual of hiring 291 new employees, slapping hand-written name tags on their shirts, and placing them in strategic locations around the store so they are available to answer questions with a deer-in-headlights gaze and monotone, "Uh, I dunno."

In defense of the neophytes, it's not entirely their fault. You don't learn the inventory of the unmentionables department by osmosis. On the other hand, having worked retail myself, I say from experience it's simply not that hard to say: "Let me find out for you!" Having watched my mother spend five minutes explaining the concept of "cuff links" to an employee at the jewelry counter, I'd have to say that many retail employees aren't doing their part, either.

Tip #3: Less Is More
I am not a physics whiz, but I do know that the available space on a clothing rack is finite. For some reason, too many retailers fail to share this trade secret with their employees. Consequently, I routinely find myself engaged in battle with a hanger wedged too tightly among its fellows. The tag gets tangled on other tags. The hanger is stuck. Just as it starts to give, the plastic hanger breaks. The purse falls off my shoulder during the struggle. The clothing item falls halfway down and is lost in the abyss. As I reach into the mass of synthetic fiber to retrieve it, seven other hangers pop off the rack at my feet. (This is why women use the buddy system to go shopping. We must shout "Cover me!" as we dive into the fray.)

Tip #4: Lose the Endcaps
Remember those dumb analogy questions on the SAT? Despite what I said then, apparently I will use those in real life. To wit:

Spring:bunny rabbits::Christmas:endcaps

I can imagine the thought process now: "How best can we serve our customers this year? I know! Let's stack an inordinate amount of crap in the aisles so nobody can move!" Eureka, indeed.

Bah humbug.

HIPAAcritical

They outdid themselves.

On Thursday, the baby had a kidney scan. As soon as it was over, I strapped her in the stroller and headed from Radiology to Medical Records (getting lost in the bowels of the hospital approximately thirty-seven times, but I digress.)

The nice lady handed me a HIPAA release form. I filled it out, checked it, double-checked it. Then I handed her the form and asked her to triple-check it for me, to avoid any delays like the last time. She did, confirmed it was filled out completely and properly, and signed her own name to the "Witness" line.

On Saturday, an ominous-looking envelope arrived in the mail from the hospital. Inside was a letter explaining that my request for records could not be processed because NO DATES OF SERVICE REQUESTED.

They returned my original release form. I immediately found the spot on the form for "Dates of Service." And you know what? 10/11/07 is written in that spot plain as day.

Frakking morons.

Pain in the HIPAA

Perhaps you are unfamiliar with HIPAA (Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act.) Perhaps your only experience with this evil incarnate is that bushel of papers handed to you when you see a new physician for the first time. Perhaps you glance at it once, casually, before throwing it away a week later after it develops coffee rings from its impromptu nesting place on the kitchen table.

Perhaps you are not me.

If you are unfamiliar with HIPAA, you can read the Wikipedia entry. Or you can simply take me at my word: HIPAA is a federal privacy policy enacted by minions of the Dark Lord. It has turned the simple act of getting one's own medical records (or one's own minor child's medical records) into an excruciating process less appealing than, and not nearly as productive as, sticking flaming toothpicks in one's eardrums.

Having sparked your interest, I'll cut to the chase. This is not the worst HIPAA experience I've ever had (that honor goes to my experience with Aetna, in the blog archives.) That makes it worse, actually. This is routine.

Last week, my daughter had an medical procedure done at the local Children's Hospital. I knew enough to request the HIPAA release form up front, at the check-in desk. I filled it out (officially giving myself permission to have copies of the medical records.)

Today, I called Medical Records to inquire about the status of this request. (They claim records are available within 1-5 days of request; I waited 9.) First the lady in Medical Records told me there was no HIPAA release on record for my daughter. When I insisted, she put me on hold. Five minutes of Muzak later, she returned. She found the release, but it was missing my address.

Now, I do not recall the form even asking for my address. However, to avoid any problems, I told her I'd come pick up the records in person-- no address should be required, just my ID.

No, I can't do that.

Okay, I'll give her my address over the phone.

No, she can't alter the form.

Well, for goodness' sake, why on earth did the check-in lady who witnessed the release not notice it was missing this crucial, earth-shattering piece of information?

She's not used to the forms.

Pardon me, but she's handing them out, witnessing them, and filing them-- perhaps she should become used to them!

Finally she said I could fax a new release. She faxed me a new release form, and I filled it out (incidentally, it was different than the original form I filled out.) Then I realized the cover page had no return fax number. I called the hospital main line, got the fax number. Faxed it back. Called Medical Records to make sure the fax was received. A different lady answered (naturally, the original woman had left for the day.)

Yes, the fax was received-- but I would have to mail the original to them.

So what the heck was the point of the fax?!

Calming myself, I told her the original form was already on file, minus my address. "Oh, then that's okay," she said.

So . . . apparently an actual original signature can be missing from the HIPAA Holy Writ, but an address cannot.

This, you see, is the beauty of HIPAA. Only Satan could've figured this one out.

Giving CVS The Boot. And Finger.

Yesterday I (don't laugh) tried dropping off another new prescription at the new CVS. I used the drive-thru and had to use one of those vacuum tube things. I put the prescription into the canister and placed it into the slot; there are buttons so I could press Send when ready. Except the pharmacy tech decided to be Speedy Gonzalez, and turned it on for me . . . before my fingers were clear. The tube smashed my finger as it began its ascent.

It was still throbbing when the pharmacy tech informed me (ready?) that the medication was not in stock, but they could order it.

My temples began to throb, too. "You know," I said fruitlessly, "this is literally the fifth prescription I've dropped off here, and the medication has never been in stock."

You know what she said?

Yup. "We're a new pharmacy."

I went to a different chain and had all the prescriptions transferred over. So long, CVS!

(They tried to screw me on the way out. New Chain called to let me know CVS transferred two prescriptions, but had no record of the other two. I had prescription numbers for those, so with a little legwork, New Chain got it done. Hurrah!)