Cussed Out Geriatrically...Again

Warning: Another cuss word is found within this post

Oh, this story is far too long and much too complicated to explain, so I'll give a brief summary. An 86-year-old woman, bless her heart, was prescribed Fentanyl patches (something generally used in chronic pain management).  She had been given a 15-day supply, and then about 5 days later on a Friday, she started to harass me for more.  Since she is somewhat confined to her house, we told her we'd help get the prescription from the doctor and then deliver the patches to her house. She wasn't out of patches yet though, so don't be worrying that she was using too many and overdosing.  She said she didn't actually need them that day, or the next day, or even in the many days to follow.  She was just worried that we "bunch a idiots" wouldn't get it taken care of in time.  I assured her in the most polite manner that I would take care of everything and get her patches to her several days before she'd actually NEED them.  Our two or three conversations, and conversations with her home health agency whom she was also harassing, took up a good part of my day.  I worked quite hard to allay her fear that she'd run out of medication, even though the doctor was out of the office until Monday.  I promised her she'd have those patches on Monday, but at the end of my final phone conversation with her right before she hung up on me, she yelled, "Get off the phone ya sons a bitches!!!"  I wasn't at work the following Monday, but did that lady get her patches?  She sure did.  See what kind of girl I am? 

Only in California

One of my pharmacist friends had an old man almost hit her with his cane.  Then he threatened her and threatened to pee all over her pharmacy. 

Don't Read This While Consuming Food

Why did I become a pharmacist?  It's simple:

I don't like to look at oozing body sores.  I don't like to look at weird rashes on private body parts.  I don't like to look at black, bloody toenails.  I don't like to look at massive pus bubbles just inside the ear.  I don't like to look at athlete's foot.  I don't like to look at scabby white patches in a throat.  I don't like to look at rotting teeth (and I don't want to smell the breath that accompanies those rotting teeth).  I don't like to watch lice make a cozy home atop a head of hair.  I don't like to look at red, scaly patches ANYWHERE.  I don't like to look at long, brittle, yellow fingernails.  I don't like to look at warts.  I don't like to look at bumps in an armpit.

...So why have I seen all of these things at the pharmacy?  People often don't want to pay a doctor to look at this stuff, and I guess I look like I'm bored behind the pharmacy counter.  I can't/shouldn't really diagnose any problems/illnesses, but before I get a chance to explain that to patients, socks are removed, pants are unzipped, mouths are opened, and shirts are lifted up.

One day (when I was a brand new pharmacist), my parents stopped by to visit me at the pharmacy.  They waited several feet in front of the pharmacy while I was at the consultation window with a middle-aged man who was asking about a rash on what he referred to as his "area".  I was young and unafraid, so I asked him to explain further.  In the two seconds it took him to undo his belt and unzip his pants, I realized where this "area" exactly was.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the look of horror on my mother's face.  The word "WHOA!" slipped out of my mouth, and the man paused just before I caught sight of his entire "area".  I told him I wasn't a doctor and that we were in...um...A PUBLIC PLACE!  I kind of figured I knew what his problem was, however, so I directed him to some cream which might help this particular rash.  My poor mother.

(Note: While it's true that I became a pharmacist partly because I thought being a medical doctor, dentist, or nurse would have totally grossed me out, I decided that the entertainment value of working in a pharmacy was too great to pass by.  That's pretty much a major reason why I became a pharmacist, as evidenced by this here blog of mine.)

Have you checked the arrests today?

So in my neck of the woods, checking the county arrest page is a popular activity.  I quite often see that customers of mine have become customers of the local jail.  I've posted before about patients who have come in or called in and cussed me out, only to appear on the arrest page in the days or weeks to follow. 

First, there was the young lass with hair of platinum, teeth of meth, and eyes of stoned fury who insisted that I had shorted her on her Oxycontin and had pocketed some of her medication for myself.  She explained to me that she locked up her medications as soon as she got home from the pharmacy, and when she retrieved them from the safe, some were missing.  Of course, it makes sense to blame the pharmacist, especially when you have to purchase a special safe in which to safely and securely store your medications in your own home.  Anyway, she was arrested a few days after that incident for some type of illegal drug use, and that sure was a shock!

Another example of a customer who ended up in the big house was the woman who claimed that when I had filled 150 of methadone tablets for her, I cut them all exactly in half and then kept half of the halves.  It was either that, or our pharmacy had purchased drugs from some cheap place that couldn't even get their tablets to stay put together.  She called me a &*$(% #@%, and then her husband took over the phone and called me a *#%)!&$ after I suggested that perhaps something transpired between picking up their medication from me and getting home that would have caused all their tablets to break in half and disappear.  Guess what! She got arrested shortly after that (for shoplifting).

So the customer that got arrested a few days ago has never called me a name, and there has been no incident in which she claimed a shortage of a controlled substance.  I just noted something funny about her arrest.  It's not a real giggle type of funny, but rather more of an observational, "Hmmm, that's funny."  It seems as though she was bailed out a few days ago, and a prescription for Klonopin (an anti-anxiety medication) was called in for her today.  The directions stated: Take 1 tablet by mouth on good days, and take 3-4 tablets on bad days.  I'm thinking the day she got arrested was one of those "bad days".  Hopefully this stuff keeps her out of jail, as she was arrested for some type of assault. 

More Braid Brigade

The Braid Brigade has been on my mind a lot lately, and not just because they've been highlighted on the news in recent days regarding all that end-of-world pack a backpack park your car in St. George and walk back home and drink this magical Kool-Aid business. What do I like most about dealing with them?  Well I'm gonna tell ya.

1.  They have the coolest names, like Sweet Caress, Sweet Heaven, Zavenda, Euclinda, Halroy, Esmeranda, Nature, Faithea, Cleat, Dowayne, Lamarelda, Zionicca, Dianabel, Zippidee, Qualadee, Gentle, Delekah, Benessa, Millenia, Concheanna, etc.

2. They make unreasonable demands seem like no big deal.  Fill prescriptions for you and 26 of your closest family members in 3 minutes? Even though you haven't seen your doctor in over a year, you want me to call that doctor and ask them to call in a prescription to treat something you've never been seen for? Bill Medicaid for the wrong patient/date/quantity? Deliver medications to your community 50 miles away twice a day? Stay open until 7:45 even though we close at 6:30? If something isn't covered by Medicaid, just give it to you for free anyway? Sure...why not?

3. When they walk into the pharmacy and I say a bright cheery "Hello!" to them, they glare back or completely ignore me.

4. If there's a herpes outbreak (or any other type of outbreak), they can really clear a shelf of a particular medication.  It makes it easier to dust. 

5. Their hair!