That one time I passed out at work...

Getting robbed while working would suck.  However, it happens far too often in pharmacies due to the prescription drug abuse epidemic in our country.  I have no idea what I would do if I had to face that situation.  I can tell you that I would give them whatever they wanted.  In the words of TI:  You can have whatever you liiiiike.  I would even throw in some bonus meds and sign them up for a pharmacy savings card.  Whatever they wanted.  Being robbed would have to be the worst thing to happen at work.

But I can promise you that fainting at work has to be in the conversation for the second worst.

I've always hated needles.  I remember being ten years old and the clerk at the military ID card office needed to know my blood type to put on my military ID card.  My mom didn't know my blood type (and this might be the only time ever that my mom didn't know something), so they sent me to the local military clinic to get my blood drawn.  Two young medics had to hold me down on a stretcher to get to my arm.  I had a total freak-out moment.  It was a very traumatic event.  (My blood type was O-negative... no need to redraw blood for that ever again.)

The above situation became a common occurrence in my life.  But don't think for a second that that fear has gone away.  One time, I near passed out when they had to insert an IV to administer contrast dye for an MRI.  After the procedure was over and my blood pressure returned to normal, the nurse walked me out to the waiting room as I was sipping Coke out of a straw.  The nurse told my mom, "Your daughter did good."  Kind of how your babysitter would give a report to your parents when they got home.  Only I was 34 years old and this just happened last year.

Ironically, I learned to give vaccination injections during pharmacy school.  But we didn't practice on oranges like I thought we would... we practiced on each other.  I sure as heck was not participating in that game.  Everyone had to give three shots and take three shots.  I gave my three shots no problem.  But then I looked at my partner and said, "Don't you dare come near with me with that needle."  A student nearby volunteered to take one of the three shots.  I bribed another student with lunch.  And then I approached the TA with teary eyes and begged him to take the third shot.  I was 23 years old and in my sixth year of pursuing a professional degree, but I wasn't above acting like I was ten.  The fear of needles is a real struggle.

Thankfully, I have never had an issue administering vaccines.  Sticking others with a needle doesn't affect me at all.  And it always annoys me when people overreact and get so dramatic right before I give the vaccination.  I always think, "Thank god I never acted like that."

I made it ten years of being a vaccination giver before I had an "incident."

It was a dreary weekday night and all through the store, not a patient was stirring and I was even bored.  A middle-aged gentleman came to the counter and asked for a flu shot and I proceeded to administer the injection the same way I had for the past 10 years.  As soon as I removed the needle, a nice thick stream of blood immediately flowed down his arm... and I hurriedly applied significant pressure with a cotton ball for a few seconds.  No biggie... blood happens.  But when I removed the cotton ball, there was a gross quarter-sized bruise that had already developed.  So I applied more pressure.  When I removed the cotton ball again, the bruise had turned into a knot.  Right before my eyes I watched the knot change to a pretty puke green color with a little black and purple in the mix.

This is about the time when I started to think, "This isn't good... not good at all."  Over the next minute, I couldn't take my eyes off what was growing out of this man's arm:  a green alien the size of a baseball.  I swear for a split second I thought I was Dan Aykroyd in Ghostbusters... I waited for green slime to explode all over my face.  I've been doing this for 10 years and nothing close to this has ever happened.  I didn't know what to do.

As I talked to the patient and asked him medical history questions, I noticed that I started to get very hot and dizzy.  I immediately knew what was happening.  This wasn't my first rodeo.  All I could think at this moment was, "Don't pass out in front of the patient."  I told the patient that I needed to check on something in the pharmacy as to not alert him that I wasn't feeling well.  I quickly ran back inside the pharmacy and my tech at the drive-thru stopped me to ask a question.  All I could hear him say was...

I just walked away from him.  I hastily took off my white pharmacist jacket and threw it.  I picked up the phone to call a another pharmacist because even though I was very light-headed, all I could think about was that the guy's arm was going to fall off any second.  I didn't make it past the automated prompts when everything went white.  I somehow had enough sense to walk behind the shelves so customers couldn't see me.  I laid on the floor and moaned for my tech to get the store manager.  Things get a little fuzzy here, and I was shaking, completely soaked in sweat, and very dizzy.  So very attractive.

One of my techs grabbed some glucose gel and squirted a tube of the gel in my mouth.  Cold rags were placed on my forehead.  I just laid there on the pharmacy floor.  As one manager was taking care of me, another manager was talking to the patient with the alien in his arm.  Shockingly, the patient was very calm and nonchalant about the whole ordeal.  Meanwhile, I was laid out on the floor.  Apparently green aliens scare me.

I believe I accidentally hit a small capillary in the deltoid muscle, which is very rare, but can cause that type of inflammation and reaction.  I've given over 500 injections since then and have had no problems.  But I can honestly say that I will never be prepared for my next arm alien.  And if one happens to you, don't call me.  I won't be much help.

PS.  I followed up with the patient the following day and his swelling had subsided and he had a small bruise at the injection site.  Crisis adverted.

Pharmacist (noun) [fahr-muh-sist]

“How long is this going to take?”  I cringe every time I hear that question.  Not that the question per se bothers me, but I always have to brace myself because I’m never sure of the response I will get.  It doesn’t matter if I say 20 minutes or 2 hours, I will always receive one of two reactions.  Most people give a reasonable, “Sounds good.  I’m going to run some errands and I’ll be back later this afternoon.”  However, this is not always the case.  Sometimes the response can be a cheerful and pleasant, “ARE YOU SERIOUS?  THIS IS RIDICULOUS.  I’LL BE BACK IN TEN MINUTES AND IT BETTER BE READY”

Of course, there are exceptions for emergencies, hospice patients, sick children, and Viagra.  These patients need their meds ASAP and I do everything I can to get them in and out as quickly and safely as possible.

Here are some situations to consider why it takes so long to fill your prescription:

**pharmacist (noun):  a person who is professionally qualified to decipher doctors’ handwriting; a professional who must contact prescribers numerous times per day to get prescription clarification due to illegible handwriting

**pharmacist (noun):  a person who is professionally qualified to lose their mind as they sit on hold with the help desk waiting for directions on how to fix the jammed printer

**pharmacist (noun):  a person who is professionally qualified to administer vaccinations; this qualified professional may pass out after administering the vaccination if the patient develops a large, green, baseball sized knot at the injection site (note:  having a passed-out pharmacist will increase the time it takes to fill your prescription)  (additional note:  passing out at work is not fun; true story)

**pharmacist (noun):  a person who is professionally qualified to sniff out the BS that patients throw in order to get their controlled substances refilled early

**pharmacist (noun):  a person who is professionally qualified to spend at least 10% of their day answering non-pharmacy related questions  (i.e. what is the phone number to the dentist across the street from you?  when does the home depot next to you open?)

**pharmacist (noun):  a person who is professionally qualified to save lives daily by double checking dosages, directions, and indications

Next time you are concerned about your prescriptions taking too long to fill... ask yourself... do you want it fast or right?  

The word of the day is faddaged

My tech told me that she was “faddaged" last night.

Me:  You’re what?

Tech:  “Faddaged”

Me:  Huh?

Tech:  “Faddaged”

Me:  “Faddaged?”  What does that even mean?  Spell it.

Tech:  F-A-T-I-G…

Me:  Stop.  Are you trying to say fatigued?

Tech:  No, “faddaged.”  It’s another word for tired.

Me:  Oh dear child.  It’s pronounced fatigued.

Tech:  Fatigued?  Who comes up with this pronunciation stuff?  It looks like “faddaged.”

I thought we had turned the corner when she finally stopped saying:  “I need the dextro-am-heff-a-deen.”  Looks like we are back at square one. 

But I’ll take her goofy pronunciations all day.  She lost all of her fingers and most of her hand in a horrible car accident a few years ago, yet has maintained the best outlook on life with her positive attitude and humor.  She never fails to give me a good belly laugh just when I need it most. 

Me:  I don’t know who keeps putting bottles in the wrong place, but I’m about to dust everything for fingerprints to find out who’s doing it.

Tech:  Thank God I don't have any fingers.

Her humor is always welcomed.  It will instantly make you forget about the mean old lady yelling at you because she’s out of her “peanut butter balls” and is going to have a seizure.  What… you didn’t know peanut butter balls prevented seizures??  Neither did I.  Until she gave me her prescription number and up came a refill for phenobarbital.

_________________________________________________________________________

I’m just going to file this one in the “what the hell” category and move on.  No need to discuss.

Patient:  A pharmacy in Indiana wouldn’t fill my prescriptions because they said they don’t take Kentucky Medicaid.

Me:  Yes, that is correct.  Medicaid is usually state specific.

Patient:  I don’t understand.

Me:  If you have medicaid issued from the state of Kentucky, then you can only use your medicaid benefits in Kentucky.

Patient:  What??!  What happens when I go on vacation to Hawaii and happen to get sick?  Am I just supposed to die?

__________________________________________________________________________

As I sat down to write this blog last night, I went to the notes in my phone. As funny/unbelievable/scary situations happen at work, I keep a running log in my phone for my next blog attempt. But the notes section last night in my phone was blank… I accidentally deleted them. I frantically tried to recover them to no avail. Slightly upset, I closed my computer and hoped I could remember some of them by morning.

God was looking out for me. He didn’t want me to go blogless this month. And he wasn’t playing around… he made sure I experienced enough blog material this past weekend to make up for a months worth of lost notes. Thankfully all of these situations occurred as phone calls because I don’t think I could have kept my facial expressions in check for some of these stories if they happened in person. But after the phone call that led to the story below, I should have just dropped the mic phone and gone home.

Me:  This is the pharmacist.  How may I help you?

Man:  Hi.  I have a situation and need your advice.  

Me:  Ok.

Man:  My daughter shaved “down there” last night at a friend’s house.  Now she is complaining that it is burning and itching.  

Me:  (silence)

Man:  She said she even shaved in the right direction.

Me:  (more silence)

Man:  (longer silence)

Me:  Okaaaay.  Did she shave the whole area, or just the outer bikini line?

Man to daughter in background:  Did you shave the whole thing?

Man:  She says she shaved everything.

Me:  Ummm.  How old is your daughter?  (Completely irrelevant, but I had to ask)

Man:  14

Me:  (silence as I digested the situation, then proceeded to recommend a brand of anti-itch hydrocortisone cream that is found in the feminine aisle)

There were a few thoughts that immediately came to mind after I hung up the phone:

***First thought:  I would rather walk around with a flame coming out of my vagina than tell my dad that I have razor burn as a result of a Brazilian shave that I did at my friend’s house.  I can’t even fathom having that conversation at the age of 14.  I got in deep trouble for calling a boy on the phone when I was 14, so telling my dad that I shaved my lady parts bare at that age would have led to solitary confinement until I was 18.  I then would be under a work-release program until I was 40.  At 40, he might allow me to start dating, but of course it would be chaperoned.  I think you get my point:  that shit would never be told to my father; not at 14; not at 34; not at 54.  Never.  Ever.  Never.

**Second thought:  I was an early bloomer.  I was shaving my armpits at the age of 10 (and my mom reminds me that it was a daily fight because I hated doing it).  But I didn’t know shaving anything other than my pits and legs was an option (except when I experimentally shaved my mustache in the 8th grade… that sure as hell never happened again after it grew back even thicker).  I was shocked to hear this girl at 14 years old was doing things that I never even considered until a decade later.  But, I was even more upset after hearing this story that I officially felt old.  I turned into that old person who says: “I can’t believe the things that kids do these days.”

__________________________________________________________________________

Now I will transition to something much more serious and dear to my heart, something that I can't not mention.  Today was my birthday (thank you, thank you), but my birthdays post-2004 are always bittersweet.  I am grateful for all the love that was sent my way today (Facebook makes you feel like a rockstar on your birthday!).  But I am even more grateful for those we honored today on Memorial Day... the brave soldiers who have made the ultimate sacrifice.

Jeff, You are missed dearly, but your dedication and perseverance in a time of personal suffering is beyond admirable, and is often what gets me through difficult times.  You left me with a lifetime of memories that I will forever hold close to my heart.  I have yet to forgive you for cheating during our lunge challenge, but how could I be mad at you with that smile of yours?  Lt. Sandifur and I are doing well.  We still continue to see each other, but not as much as we used to.  Please know the amount of gratitude you received from our country today was overwhelming.  Everyone says "thank you," but I also need to say, "I love you."  Oh, and "Go Big Blue!"  Maybe Go Big Blue first, then I love you second?  Nah.  Well... maybe?  I'll have to think about it... this is a hard one :)  Wish you were here next year as we watch the boys claim #9, but I know you, Kevin, and DJ are already working on stadium seating and will have front row seats from heaven.  Thank you, Jeff.  Today we all say thank you.  We are the land of the free because of you.

Why I drink after work

Ten o’clock was slowly approaching and I was more than ready to call it a day.  I had just verified a prescription for a patient’s Wellbutrin.  Five minutes later she came to the counter to pick up the medication and I couldn’t find it anywhere.  I had no idea where it was placed, but it was obvious that I didn’t place it in the correct bin.  I eventually found the prescription... in the refrigerator.  I am normally not this absentminded at work, but after a day like today, I’m surprised my brain didn’t shut itself off from overload.

12:43pm

*phone rings and technician answers call*

Technician to me:  What happens if you brush your teeth with permethrin (treatment for lice and scabies)?

Me:  What?

Technician:  Lady on the phone wants to know if that’s safe.

Me:  Huh?

Technician:  Her grandson accidentally brushed his teeth with a tube of permethrin cream.

Me:  Have her call poison control.

1:30pm

*phone rings and I answer*

Me:  Pharmacist, how may I help you?

Cracked out lady:  What’s the day and date?

Me:  Day and date of what?

Cracked out lady:  Today, what’s today’s day and date?

Me:  Today is the 24th

Cracked out lady:  But what day of the week is it?

Me:  Wednesday

Cracked out lady:  Are you sure?

Me:  Yes

Cracked out lady:  I knew it!  That’s what I thought, too.  I made a bet with a friend.  Thanks!  (hangs up)

1:58pm

*young guy comes to counter*

Guy:  What’s the best thing to flush out your system?

Me:  You mean as a cleanse?

Guy:  No, something to flush out weed.

Me:  I have no idea (I really want to tell him to drink a bottle of the laxative magnesium citrate)

Guy:  You don’t know?

Me:  No (and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you)

Guy:  I heard Niacin works well.

Me:  Okay?

Guy:  How much of it do I have to take?

Me:  I have no idea.

Guy:  Well, what I am supposed to do?

Me:  (QUIT DOING DRUGS!!)  Sorry, but I’m probably not going to be any help here.

3:05pm

*checking voicemail*

Nurse:  I just left a prescription for some suppositories, and I wanted to make sure it’s used vaginally and not orally.

3:11pm

*verifying prescription label for a cream*

Prescription reads:  Apply 1/16 inch (or 1.5 mm) of cream to affected area

Other pharmacist:  WTF?  Are we supposed to dispense a measuring tape with this?

4:11pm

*phone rings*

Me:  Pharmacist, how may I help you?

Cranky old man:  I need to speak to the pharmacy manager.

Me:  This is she.

Cranky old man:  No, I want to speak to a man.

4:22pm
*verifying prescription for Buspar (anti-anxiety med)*
Computer:  drug interaction with Energizer battery

6:39pm

*helping young girl at counter*

Girl:  I need the D.

Me:  Excuse me?  (How in the world am I going to be able to have a serious conversation with you after you just said that?)

Girl:  My doctor told me that I needed “something-D” and I have to get it from the pharmacist.

Me:  What are your symptoms?

Girl:  I can’t breathe because I am so stopped up.

Me:  (gets a box of Sudafed)  This is what you need.

Girl:  No, that doesn’t say D.

Me:  (oh, this is going to be fun)  D stands for decongestant.  Sudafed is a decongestant.

Girl:  No, my doctor said I needed “something-D”

Me:  (I’m not even going to argue with you and I just grab the closest pseudoephedrine product that ends in D)  Is this better?  It’s Claritin-D.

Girl:  Yes, that other stuff wasn’t what my doctor wanted.

8:41pm

*phone rings*

Me:  Pharmacist, how may I help you?

Cranky old man #2:  I was just there and that girl only gave me one of my prescriptions.

Me:  Sorry about that, what is your name?

Cranky old man #2:  John Smith.  I only got my inhaler, but I was supposed to get my blood pressure medicine, too.

Me:  Sir, our computer records show you picked up your blood pressure medicine last week.

Cranky old man #2:  NO I DID NOT!

Me:  (I’m busy and don’t have time to argue with you.  The cost of your medicine is not worth the hassle, so I’m just going to get it ready for you again.)  Okay, I will just get it ready again and you can pick it up at your convenience.

Cranky old man #2:  And you’re going to pay for my gas because this is your fault.

Me:  (I was going to give you your medicine for free as a courtesy since you lost what you picked up last week.  I am not paying for your gas.)  Sir, is there a number where I can call you back?  I need to check into this more.

I head to the office and put on my private detective hat.  After a little Nancy Drew work, I find the security video of him picking up the medication that he said he didn’t pick up last week.  I compare that video to the video of him in the store earlier today.  He is wearing the exact same clothes.

Me:  Sir, I just did a little researching, and we have video of you picking up your prescription here a week ago.

Cranky old man #2:  No you do not.

Me:  Yes sir.  It is definitely you in the video because you are wearing the exact same clothes as today (I describe to perfection what he was wearing).

Cranky old man #2:  Miss, I was not in your store at all until today.

Me:  Sir, I have you on video.

Cranky old man #2:  Well, that video is lying then.

**the rest of this conversation is irrelevant**

Now do you see why the Wellbutrin ended up in the refrigerator?

I'm blaming it on the full moon

Yep, these are real.  I'm blaming it on the full moon.

Phone rings.

Me:  This is the pharmacist... how may I help you?

Lady:  I need to know if this medication causes eye problems.  I have an eye-phobia.

Me:  Eye-phobia?

Lady:  I hate putting anything in my eye.  There was this one time when I was working with a mortician and I was putting injections in a corpse’s mouth, and some stuff came flying out of the mouth and sprayed everywhere... and I wasn’t wearing googles and the stuff went in my eye.  But I wouldn’t even let them wash my eyes out because I don’t like anything touching my eyes.

Me:  (Wait.  You had dead person saliva that sprayed in your face and YOU DIDN’T WASH OUT YOUR EYES!!?!!?)

**The rest of this conversation is irrelevant.

I don’t understand why some people feel the need to scream when they talk on cell phones.  I don’t mind if someone sitting in the waiting room is having a conversation on their phone.  I do mind when the conversation is so loud that I can’t concentrate on the prescriptions I’m trying to check.  I really don’t want to hear about your two dates for this weekend, or about the drama with your baby-daddy, or the results of your recent pap-smear.  Case in point tonight.

A grown man in the waiting room talking very loud on his cell phone:  You know, when I was 16, my mom let my 15 year old girlfriend move in with us.  My mom let us sleep in the same room and everything, so yeah, of course she got pregnant.  Oh well, shit happens.

Me:  (What?  I use the term “shit happens” if I get a flat tire on the highway or clumsily spill Gatorade on my white work coat.  I'm pretty sure I could find a more appropriate way to say I was a father at 16 than "oh well, shit happens.")

Phone rings.

Me:  This is the pharmacist.  How may I help you?

Guy:  I think I’m having a heart attack.  Should I go to the hospital?

Me:  (A heart attack!!?!  Then why are you calling me??)  Yes, sir.  You need to hang up and call 911 immediately if you think you are having a heart attack.

Guy:  Well, what are the signs of a heart attack?

Me:  What symptoms do you have right now?

Guy:  I don’t know, what are the symptoms I’m looking for?

Me:  Do you have any chest pain or discomfort?

Guy:  No

Me:  Do you have any pain that is radiating to your arms or mouth?

Guy:  No

Me:  Are you sweating or feel nauseated?

Guy:  No

Me:  Are you short of breath?

Guy:  No

Me:  Have you ever had a heart attack before or have any heart condition?

Guy:  No

Me:  Then what makes you think you are having a heart attack?

Guy:  I don’t know.  I just wanted to make sure I’m not.

Me:  Sir, do you have anything going on with your body right now that does not feel normal?

Guy:  Nope.  I feel fine.  So, you are sure I’m not having a heart attack?

Me:  I can’t guarantee this, but I think it’s safe to say that you are okay.

Guy:  So I’m not going to die tonight?

Me:  (Let me look into my crystal ball...)  You should be okay.

Guy:  Are you sure?  I think I may be having a heart attack.

**I kid you not, this conversation repeated itself at least 4 times before I was able to get off the phone.

I don’t get a lunch or break at work.  Some days I’m lucky if I’m able to run to the restroom.  So as crazy as this sounds, I actually enjoy peeing at work.  Being able to sit there for 60 seconds uninterrupted is a small slice of heaven.  Until this happens:

Door of bathroom opens.

Lady:  Is the pharmacist in here?

Me:  (in the stall)  Ummm... yes.

Lady:  Oh good, I thought I saw you come in here.  I need to ask you a question when you are done.

Me:  (Can I please pee in peace?)  

**This gives a whole new meaning to pharmacists being the most accessible health care professional.

Finders Keepers

Happy New Year!  I hope everyone had a memorable 2012, and is looking forward to a fabulous 2013.  The new year is often welcomed in with new resolutions.  I’m not sure how I feel about New Year resolutions since I usually give up after January 5th, but this year I have three resolutions that I hope to keep until at least February... March if I’m lucky:

**Get this 33 year old body back in super-model shape.  Not that it was ever close to super-model shape, but I have been holding on to several pairs of old pants with the glimmering hope that one day I will be able to wear them again.  2013 will be dedicated to getting these pants over my knees.  I will then focus on getting them over my thighs in 2014, and then over my butt in 2015.  Baby steps.

**Being on time for things... anything.  As in work, appointments, work, work, and work.  And at this point, I will even consider being only five minutes late as being on time.

**Share my pharmacy stories on a regular basis.  I have been slacking.  So to kick off the year right... here is my favorite story from 2012:

A store manager was helping a patient on the floor look for a particular drug that they could not find, so she brought him to the pharmacy to ask me if I could recommend something similar.  The man showed me an empty bottle that looked like it was from 1980, and the name of the drug was some big huge long herbal name (something I couldn’t even pronounce, let alone knew what it was used for).  This is how our conversation continued:

Me:  What do you use this for?

Him:  I’ve been using it to help lose some weight.  It’s says it’s a sugar buster.  Do you have anything like this that you sell here?  (Oh, I see it now.  It says “sugar buster” in small print... on the back... under “made in Iraq.”)  

Me:  We sell a wide range of herbal diet pills.

Him:  I want one with this same ingredient that’s a sugar buster.

Me:  I’ve never heard of this drug before.  Do you remember where you bought this?

Him:  I don’t know.  I just moved into a new home and I found these pills in the bathroom when I moved in, so I decided to take them to see if they’d work.  I think I’ve lost some weight since taking them, so I wanted to buy some more.

Me:  (with my jaw touching the floor, I don’t even remember the rest of the conversation)

HOLD UP.... WAAAIT!!! (in my best Nate Dogg voice)

Did I just understand this man to tell me that he found a bottle of pills in a house and just took them?  Doesn’t everyone watch the television series Homeland?  (Well, they should because it’s arguably the best television drama ever.)  Carrie works for the CIA and keeps her anti-psychotic meds in an ibuprofen bottle in order to keep it on the down-low.  But there are so many other possibilities.  What if the previous home owner was trying to kill someone and was hiding rat poison in this bottle?  Or what if the previous home owner was like me and just keeps a hodgepodge of pills in one bottle.  Or what if this drug was expired (which I’m sure it was since this bottle was an antique), and there was some weird chemical reaction that could cause harm?  Or what if those pills were a weapon of mass destruction?  The possibilities are endless.  

So the lesson for all us, if you find a bottle of pills in your new home, try them out... see what they do for you.  Kidding.  Please just throw them away (preferably wearing rubber gloves).  Especially if you’ve never even heard of the drug name or you can’t pronounce the drug name or you don’t know what they are used for.  For your safety.  And for the sanity of your pharmacist.

And the "Idiot of the Year" award goes to...

I returned home from vacation Friday night and was at work Saturday morning only eight hours after my plane landed.  I stood on my feet for the next 32 hours... and after sitting my butt on the beach for a week, I realized how physically taxing my job can really be.  I was leaving work yesterday afternoon after working the weekend and I was exhausted, stressed-out, uptight, and had body aches galore... and I was already needing another vacation.  As I was walking out the door to head home to a nice warm hot tub,  the phones were ringing off the hook.  The sound of a phone ringing is like nails on a chalk board to me... I just wanted to go home, but I grab the phone just to make it stop ringing.

Me:  Hi.  This is the pharmacist.  How may I help you?

Other end:  What is your phone number?

Me:  (WTF?)  It’s the number you just called??

Other end:  Oh, ok, thanks (click)

Me to the staff:  And that, my friends, is my final good deed of the weekend.  I’m going home and no one better bother me for the next 48 hours.

Then I get home and do a quick Facebook check only to see this picture in my newsfeed.  And I laughed out loud.

My initial thought for this blog was to break down each of these six categories, starting with “what my friends think I do.”  I did a quick google search of “pharmacist pay” and the first thing I came across was a post written by the winner of the “Idiot of the Year” award.  This idiot is probably best friends with the lady in my waiting room this weekend who made a scene by screaming:  “This place is horrible.  I can’t believe they said it was going to be twenty minutes.  Twenty minutes to put ten pills in a bottle?”  So instead of breaking down these six hilarious scenes above... I need to address this idiot poster.  Here are his/her Princeton educated thoughts:

 (Pharmacists) have a grueling course load in college and they do have a lot of information they need to be aware of.  But come on, they make six figures for a job where they pretty much stand around all day and just fill prescriptions.  They don't even have to diagnose anything, just fetch the prescription!  Not to mention if someone asks them a question about the drug, they can just look it up in the computer.  What do they do that is so special?  They aren't the ones prescribing the medication.  The doctors are the ones who are doing that. They are simply just fetching the order, similarly to a McDonald's drive thru employee, you place an order and they read it and get what you ordered.  Should we pay McDonald's employees 100k a year because they might be responsible for us having a heart attack if they give us too many hamburgers?  Not too mention, their schooling is not specialized in the sense that they need to go to a specific college for it. i.e. Harvard Law for law students. They do not need to go into graduate school either. They can go to a public college, enroll in pharmacy school and not pay a dime more than someone going there to become, say, a teacher.

I don’t know where to even start with this... but here I go.

** I didn’t need to go to a specialized school?  I wish someone would have told me this before I spent seven (apparently needless) years in college.  I spent three years in undergrad, took an admissions test called the PCAT (twice), sat for interviews, got totally stressed out, and had at least three nervous breakdowns.  I hoped and prayed that I would be one of the 80 students admitted out of the 500+ applicants (about a 17% acceptance rate).  During my (apparently needless) time in pharmacy school, I spent three years sitting in the same seat (that probably still has my butt print) learning about drugs and the body, and how drugs affect the body... and then one year of on-the-job training.  I can’t believe they made me go to school for seven years when all I do is just stand around and “fetch prescriptions.”  It apparently took me seven years to learn to count by fives, and I’m pretty darn good at it.  And hey, they even gave me a doctorate degree for it, too!

** “and not pay a dime more than someone going there to become, say a teacher.”  Google is your friend... use it.  Google "tuition rates" and you will discover that pharmacy school costs just a hair more than a bachelor’s degree.  Again, using the University of Kentucky (a public college) as my example, four years of pharmacy school will cost a student today $104,902 (note: this does not include the undergraduate coursework required prior to admission).  In comparison, four years of undergraduate work to receive your bachelor’s degree will cost a student today $39,824.  So, yes, you clueless poster, pharmacy school will cost someone more... but not much, only $65,078.

** The last time I checked, giving someone a double cheeseburger on accident when they actually ordered a grilled chicken sandwich will not cause them do die tomorrow of a heart attack.  In fact, they will probably be very grateful you screwed up because deep down they really wanted to cheeseburger anyways.  However, if I accidentally gave someone hydroxyzine (a medication used for itching) when the prescription was written for hydralazine (a medication used to lower blood pressure), there could be serious consequences that could possibly result in a hospital visit.  So please don’t compare the wrong medication to pickles left off a hamburger.

** The next time your doctor writes a prescription for your child in teaspoons when it was supposed to be dosed in milliliters (five times the dose), don’t expect me to catch the mistake, because according to you, that’s not my job.  I actually spend a good portion of my day calling to verify prescriptions for illegible handwriting or incorrect drug/strength/directions/etc.  But I’ll stop doing that from now on... thank God.  Now I will have more time to sit around and check Facebook.

** The other “little” things I do, like give vaccinations, check blood pressure, check cholesterol, and recommend over the counter products have now been taken off my list of job duties.  It didn’t fall in the category of “fetch prescriptions.”

** In case you missed one of my previous posts, feel free to read here about all the different occupations I take on during the course of my day.  When you come to pick up your prescription and I tell you I can’t print a label because my printer is broken, don’t expect me to lift a finger to try to fix it.  That’s not my job and interferes with me “fetching the order.”   http://rphinblueheels.blogspot.com/2012/08/i-wear-different-hat-to-work-every-day.html

** You are correct... I do have to look a lot of things up in the computer.  A lot.  Know why?  Because there are currently 6,038 medications that are approved by the FDA.  6,038!!  Maybe if the cook at McDonald’s had to memorize 6,038 condiments, he would get paid more too.

Thank you, idiot of the year.  Thank you for making my job much much easier now.  I am now definitely the top right guy in that picture above... hallelujah!  And if your doctor doses your Viagra incorrect and you are in the hospital with priapism... don't blame me... I just fetched the order.

Dogs don't have last names

Sometimes I feel like a broken record.  Other times I feel like I am on a merry-go-round going full speed.  I have so many conversations that make my head hurt that I’ve stopped counting.  But they make for great entertainment.  Seriously, I don’t even have to watch Chelsea Handler anymore to get my laughs... I just replay the conversations that I had that day, and that’s 100 times funnier than Sarah Colonna and Fortune Feimster could ever be.

Man dropping off prescription to be filled:

Me:  Have you had prescriptions filled with (drug store name) before?

Man:  No

Me:  Ok, what is your birthday?

Man:  January first

Me:  (waiting for him to give me the year... but he just stares at me)  And the year?

Man:  1970

Me:  I’m pulling up a match with an Apple Lane address?

Man:  No

Me:  Have you ever lived on Apple Lane?

Man:  No

Me:  What is your current address?

Man:  2000 Green Court in Summersville

Me:  Okay, do you have any allergies?

Man:  Why are you asking me all of these questions?

Me:  I need to get you registered in our computer system

Man:  I should already be in there... I just had a prescription filled here last week

Me:  You just told me you’ve never had prescriptions filled here before.  I’m not finding you with a Green Court address

Man:  I know.  I just moved... I used to live on Apple Lane

Me:  (am I speaking Greek?)  You just told me you have never lived on Apple Lane

Man:  Oh... I haven’t been listening to you

Man picking up prescription that was called in by a prescriber:

Me:  What is the name you are picking up for?

Man:  Buster

Me:  Buster?  Is that the last name?

Man:  That’s the only name

Me:  (confused)  What’s the last name?

Man:  Buster

Me:  So, the name is Buster Buster?

Man:  No, the first name is Buster

Me:  Ok, so what’s the last name?

Man:  There is no last name

Me:  There’s no last name?

Man:  No, the name is Buster

Me:  But I need a last name

Man:  Ma’am... this is a dog... dogs don’t have last names

Me:  Ok, I understand.  What is your last name?

Man:  Why do you need that?

Me:  I need a last name that we would have filed the prescription under

Man:  There is no last name

Me:  As the owner, what is your last name?

Man:  Smith.  But that’s not Buster’s last name.  Whoever heard of a dog having a last name?

Me:  (pull out prescription for Buster Smith)

Man:  Lady, this is not correct.  His name is not Buster Smith.  His name is Buster.  Period.  Dogs don’t have last names.

Me:  I have to have a last name listed

Man:  Why?

Me:  (is this the Spanish Inquisition?)  I just do.  Is it okay to use Smith as Buster’s last name, or would you like me to use a different last name?

Man:  (heavy sigh)  Dogs don’t have last names, but use Smith if you have to

Me:  Thank you (thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you)

Recent conversation with my sister while on vacation last week.  We were watching the hotel’s live nightly show, and the show opened with an exotic dancer from Venezuela:

Me:  She’s absolutely gorgeous

My sister:  Yes, yes she is

Me:  I don’t think I’ve ever seen an ugly girl from Venezuela

My sister:  When have you ever seen any other girl from Venezuela?

Me:  The Miss Universe pageant 

My sister:  Right, ‘cause that’s where you will see all the ugly girls from Venezuela

Me:  I really wish I could dance like her

My sister:  Hell yeah, I do too.  It doesn’t matter what your face looks like, if you can move your body like that, then you’re not going home alone.

A pharmacy quickie before vacation

Two funnies from this past week...

Probably one of my most favorite phone conversations thus far:

Lady:  I’m confused about my son’s Singulair

Me:  Sure, what’s the question?

Lady:  Well, he got a different kind this time... M-O-N-K-T something

Me:  Yes, Montelukast is the new generic for Singulair

Lady:  Well, these directions say to chew and swallow

Me:  What strength did he get?

Lady:  It says “5 milligram chew tab”

Me:  So, he got the chewable?  And the directions say to chew and swallow?

Lady:  Yes

Me:  I’m sorry, but what’s the confusion?

Lady:  He’s supposed to chew and swallow it?

Me:  (as opposed to what?)  Yes, chew and then swallow.  Is this not how he did it in the past?

Lady:  No, before he just chewed it

Me:  (I can’t make this stuff up)  He didn’t swallow it after he chewed it?

Lady:  Not the whole tablet

Me:  So just to make sure we are on the same page and he takes this the right way, he’s supposed to chew up the tablet and then all the little chewed particles in his mouth are to be swallowed, though some will dissolve in his mouth.

Lady:  Ok, that’s how we’ll do it from now on

Me:  (Still not sure how the kid’s been taking this medicine)  Please call back if you have anymore questions.

One of my pharmacist co-workers said it best, “People like that are the reason why we have to put ‘UNWRAP and insert one suppository’ on the label.  You would think they know to take it out of the aluminum foil, but you wouldn’t believe the amount of people who shove the whole thing in, wrapper and all.”

Seriously?  You want me to put a puzzle together in order to fill your prescription?