This Elevates my Blood Pressure

Mrs. Pressure is here again. She's on aisle eight, checking her blood pressure. She does this once a week. Then she will come to me to report her blood pressure.

Then she will ask me if the machine has been calibrated this week. Then she will ask me what I think of her reading and if she needs to take her Metoprolol tonight.

Her blood pressure varies a little bit, but it is never anything to worry about and every time I have to remind her that I don't have anything to do with the blood pressure machine but that it is regularly serviced. I also have to tell her that her medication must be taken daily.

And then I will suggest that she get an inexpensive unit she can have at home and she can check her blood pressure whenever she wants. Then she will tell me no.

Ok, here we go again. Wish me luck.

Here I am...

...during those last few minutes before

I can close the #Pharmacy...

FIVE TIMES

Dim Fart rolls up on one of the motorized shopping carts. He's here to pick up his "hydroco." It doesn't do any good to tell him that the medication is actually called "hydrocodone" because the label says "hydroco."

I get the bag of medications and set them out for him to inspect. This is his ritual every time. He snags the bottle of Metformin and gives it a good look.

A lady gets in line behind Mr. Fart. 

"Why is there only 15 tablets in here?" he asks.

"When you called yesterday asking me to refill your Furosemide, Mr. Fart, I told you that Dr. Fillemup renewed your Metformin prescription with a two week supply and put on the e-Script that you need an appointment."

"I don't see Dr. Fillemup."

"She's probably the one that was refilling prescriptions that day for the office," I reply, noting that a man has now joined the line behind the patient lady behind Mr. Fart.

"I don't see Dr. Fillemup. Why is there only 15 tablets?"

"Because you need an appointment. They want to see you in the office."

Mr. Fart continues his inspection. "Where's the leg cream I asked for? It comes in a jar."

I know he's referring to triamcinolone cream, the 454 gram tub we get for people with massive amounts of itchy skin. "I didn't know you wanted that refilled."

"I TOLD MICKEY ABOUT IT LAST WEEK!" he yells, referring to our pharmacy manager. I go over to the doctor call out file. Sure enough, we're waiting for a refill request from Dr. Skinwalker. I show Dim Fart the fax request. "We haven't heard back yet from Dr. Skinwalker."

"I don't see Dr. Skinwalker. He retired. I TOLD YOU THAT FIVE TIMES."

To my recollection, this is the FIRST time he's ever mentioned it.

"Who do you see now?" I asked.

"I don't know her name. What is it?" he asks, like I have any idea.

"Is it the same office as Dr. Skinwalker?"

"YES! I TOLD YOU THAT FIVE TIMES."

"Then whoever is IN the office NOW will see eventually see the fax and respond to it," I reply, trying desperately to keep Dim Fart from having a cow.

The guy who was in line behind the patient lady disappears. But a new person gets in line.

Mr. Fart continues his inspection. He sees the Furosemide."

"Why is this in here?"

"When you called yesterday you asked me to refill your Furosemide."

"I don't take it anymore! I TOLD YOU THAT FIVE TIMES!"

I take the bottle of Furosemide and start to set it on the counter behind me. Dim Fart stops me and asks, "WHY ARE YOU PUTTING THAT BACK?"

"You said you don't take it anymore. Do you want it or not?"

"I want it."

I ring in the medications and scan Mr. Fart's club card. He sees me scan the club card and starts to swipe his credit card. A receipt prints out and I hand it to Dim Fart. He begins inspecting it.

"Did you scan my club card?"

At this point I can't resist. I say, "Oh, did you want me to scan your club card?" I knew it was coming. I knew he would say it. I couldn't hardly wait to hear it... and then, you guessed it... he said:

"YES! I TOLD YOU THAT FIVE TIMES."

Demotivational Hump Day... Chauvinists

Gems of Fun from the Doctor

Tablets in the eyes now? Ouch!

Easy to measure for any parent...

Supposed to be 1 h.s. (poorly written)

 Give 'em some more of that tablet!

An interesting combination drug... a steroid plus a Tylenol beta blocker?

Thanks to those who passed

some of these my way!

The Heavens Smiled

Long day. Evening shift. Techs are gone. I'm alone. Cue dramatic music.

Mr. Clueless walks up to the pick up window and pronounces his name. I get his lone drug off the will-call shelf and start to ring it up. I scan the label. The computer confirms there is one lone drug ready for pick up. As I'm scanning, a regular of ours steps into line.

"There's supposed to be several prescriptions," he states.

"Well, this is all I have. Was there something supposed to come in this evening?"

"No, it was 5-6 hours ago," he says, perturbed that they're not filled and ready for pick up.

"We haven't received anything else, otherwise we would have filled it and it would be ready to pick up."

"NO," he says, angrily now, "MY doctor said he was going to send it in TODAY. Look on the computer AGAIN," he says, with attitude.

"I don't need to look," I said. "If we had received anything, it would be filled."

Mr. Clueless grabs a business card. "Is your name Mickey?" he asks. I've been down this road so many times I know what's coming. "No, I'm Crazy." I point to my name tag. It says "Crazy RxMan."

"I honestly don't understand why you're angry," I continue. "I don't have any other prescriptions for you. If something had been called in, we would have filled it. That's what we do."

"Well I'm going to tell my MOTHER all about this and I'm going to transfer all my scripts to another pharmacy," he says, in anger. Mind you, this guy has ONE script in our database, he is 35 years old, and lives with his partner. I have no idea who his mother is. Perhaps she's an operative for the CIA and tomorrow I will just "disappear," but I doubt it. He storms off.

The lady in line steps up and shakes her head. She heard the whole thing. I ask her, "What did I do wrong?"

She says the guy is nuts and she'd be happy to vouch for me if necessary. Just then Mr. Clueless reappears with one of the sub commanders from the grocery. The manager says, "I'd just like you to look at the computer and verify that there isn't anything for this customer."

I tell her that no, there isn't. I tell her that when I scanned his prescription the computer would have alerted me to it. She seems satisfied. And then the lady in line, very nicely, tells Mr. Clueless that she saw the whole thing and there was no reason in the world for him to be angry... she tells how she's been a patient of our humble Goofmart Pharmacy for years and that we're dedicated to helping patients...  she went on and on in front of the manager and Mr. Clueless about what a great pharmacy we are and how we've never given anything but top notch customer service.

It was truly amazing. She was smooth like a Matthew McConaughey Lincoln TV ad where you want a Lincoln so damn bad now you'll do anything to get it... except it was ME she was promoting. She portrayed us as the best pharmacy in the world. Me... the guy who most people would view as Left Shark at the Super Bowl, is actually Thor and Captain America all mixed into one Super Pharmacist.

I swear to you: Mr. Clueless then apologized to me for his behavior. Later in the evening he called the pharmacy to apologize again. He said he had a bad day and took it out on me.

This is one of those things where it could have turned into a complaint and a write-up on my "attitude." But because I had a witness, the nut case backed down and admitted to the world that the customer isn't always right. The Heavens smiled upon me today.

Unfortunately, tomorrow is another day.

Time for some Silly Laughter

The Hippo Oath

It's shortly after opening on a Sunday morning. I'm working on a front computer preparing it for the day when I see two ladies walking my way. The look like they've been clubbing all night because their hair is messed up and they're in high heels and skirts. As they get to me, they part and a third lady steps up from between them. They were hiding her as they walked down the aisle... which was aisle eight, by the way, for you people that follow my blog and know that everything crazy happens on aisle eight.

The girl is deeply bruised on her face and has dried blood on her nose and mouth. She's been in a scuffle of some kind, or got so drunk or stoned she took a fall face first on a sink. She looks tired and worn out.

One of her friends says asks me what we have a Goofmart Pharmacy to "fix up" her friend. I said, "Your friend needs medical attention. We don't provide that here. There's an urgent care on the corner of the building. Better yet, just take her to the emergency room."

The other friend pipes up. "YOU won't HELP HER?!" she spits out at me. "Don't you have some Hippo oath or something?"

"She needs medical attention and we're not equipped or qualified to do that," I said. "And it looks like her eyes are dilated. She needs medical attention, now. She might have a concussion. If you'd like, I'll call 9-1-1."

"No," the first friend says. I turn around to do something else. A couple of minutes later I see them on the first aid aisle.

I'll brush up on my Hippo oath.

This is me...

Getting warmed up and ready

to fill prescriptions for the day...