Funny Pictures for Sunday

New Gel Stops Bleeding Instantly

A New York University student has created a gel which he says can stop heavy bleeding which could make routine bandages obsolete.

Joe Landolina, age 20, a NYU junior, says that his "Veti-Gel" almost instantly closes wounds and begins healing wounds to internal organs and key arteries.

“There’s really no way to quickly stop bleeding except to hold lots of gauze on a wound,” Landolina says. “I thought if you could pour this gel into a wound, it would solidify and stop the bleeding.”

Basically it is an artificial version of something called the "extracellular matrix," which makes up the connective tissue that holds animal bodies together. “We use plant-derived versions of the polymers that make up your skin. If they go into a wound, they build on existing polymers. It’s like it tells your body to stop bleeding.”

Read the Fox News story HERE.

YOU DON'T GIVE GOOD SERVICE

A woman steps up to the DROP OFF window. That's where you DROP OFF your new prescription so we can fill it. Later you go to the PICK UP window to PICK UP your medication. Oddly enough, you'd be surprised how often people DON'T SEEM TO GET THIS.

Back to the story...

"I have a question for you about my medication," she says.

"Sure, what's your last name?" I ask. I'm at the computer ready to pull up her file so that I can give her an educated answer with her information in front of me.

"Oh, I don't get my medication here. I get it at Busy-as-Hell pharmacy across the street. They're always busy and don't have time to answer my questions."

I stare at her, blankly. I'm waiting for the question. She stares back. Ten seconds pass. I give in.

"Sooooo, do you have a list of your medications?" That's a reasonable question. How can I answer her question without knowing what she is taking?

"Well, I can see by the look on your face that YOU DON'T WANT TO HELP ME." 

The look on my face was bewilderment. What's she asking me to do is counsel her on medication(s) she received from a competitor across the street. I don't mind helping, but as I then said to her, "I'm trying to help you, but you have to give me something to go on since you're not a patient here."

"I don't know WHY I ever bother with YOUR pharmacy. YOU don't give good service!" she belts out. 

She's NEVER filled a prescription with us. NOT ONE TIME.

Where's those vacation brochures again?

No, I won't talk on YOUR cell phone

It happens a lot. People don't have refills, or an Rx is unclear, and here at the pharmacy we're not able to get a hold of the doctor right away. The patient, with his/her cell phone, dials a secret number which puts them right through to the doctor, explains what is going on, THEN tries to hand the cell phone over to me so I can speak to the doctor directly.

I have been stupid enough to take the phone in the past, but NO MORE. I stand my ground now. I do NOT want your germs. I do not know where you've had that cell phone, whether it be in your bra, your pants, or whether you wash your hands after going to the bathroom and then make a cell phone call. I'm NOT going to talk on YOUR phone anymore. I don't care if you're insulted or whether or not the company thinks this is bad customer service.

Now I hold up my hand in a STOP gesture and tell them, "Have the doctor call me at the pharmacy." This is especially troublesome because these types of people used their cell phone in the first place because they're IN A HURRY and this damn pharmacist is holding them up. It never ends up nicely, but guess what, I DON'T CARE.

I Don't Have Insurance!

Saturday, 9am. Lady presents with a prescription for generic Ambien. I see on her profile that we haven't filled for her for quite awhile.

"We haven't filled for you for awhile. Do you have new insurance?"

She looks at me, sternly, like I just killed her cat. "I don't have insurance. I have Mayflower."

Mayflower is a state-funded Medicaid program which is separate from our regular Medicaid program. They provide coverage (uh, that's INSURANCE) for psych meds.

I dismiss the comment about her telling me she doesn't have insurance. I just process the claim on the billing information we have on file. It processes for a $3.00 co-pay. A lot of Mayflower claims come back with a $3 co-pay, so I don't think anything is unusual. It's Saturday and my workflow is light, so I tell her it will be "just a few minutes."

She looks at me, sternly, like I just killed another cat. "Just HOW long is a FEW minutes? Ten, Twenty, what?"

When people play this game with me it pisses me off. They want an exact figure, so I give them one.

"3.5 minutes."

She wanders off.

Saturday passes. Sunday passes. What happened in 3.5 minutes that she couldn't make it back?

Monday about 11am she appears at the window. I tell her that her co-pay is $3.00.

She looks at me, sternly, like I just nuked an entire pet compound. "I don't have a co-pay. It's FREE. I have Mayflower! I told you that on Saturday."

So I tell her I ran the claim on what we had on file. Logically, if she didn't have insurance but I have a processed claim, in my mind that would have been what we had on file and I would naturally assume it was Mayflower. I call over the tech to handle it at this point because I don't want to get pissed off and say something rude. 

The tech gets her Mayflower information because it's actually NEW insurance for her and we didn't have on file. Badda bing, a paid claim, and a zero co-pay for the patient. And once again, we have a Medicaid patient that just assumed that we have some sort of miraculous computer than knows her insurance information automatically.

I hand her the prescription. She's looking at me, more sternly than ever this time, like I just killed all the furry little animals in north America. I tell her that now we have her Mayflower INSURANCE on file and that her co-pay for this medication is no cost to her. But she's mad because I processed it on her regular INSURANCE (which she said she didn't have) and that NOW her "insurance knows" she's on psych meds (yeah, Zolpidem, the big psych med). I try to tell her that with the reversed claim on her regular INSURANCE that there will be nothing about that information and not to worry about it. She's unimpressed and then tells me, "I told you it was FREE anyway!"

Well, as my readers know I'm a huge abuser of Medicaid patients, so I went ahead and abused this lady too. I told her the TRUTH! I said, "Just because it was NO cost to you doesn't mean it is FREE. Someone ELSE paid for it... taxpayers!"

Oh, the inhumanity of what I said! For shame! Sorry, Thumper.

In the News: GREEN emphasized in Walgreens

"Walgreens is announcing they have started working on what it’s calling America’s first zero energy superstore. The store will be located in Evanston, Illinois and will have over 800 solar panels, two wind turbines and geothermal energy to provide enough power to the store so it wouldn’t need to draw power from outside power sources."

GREAT! Maybe now they're have enough money to properly staff the pharmacy with enough technicians so that the staff isn't running around like insane monkeys trying to fill prescriptions.

Link: Walgreens First Zero Energy Superstore

The Levaquin Lady is Looking for Love...

...in all the WRONG places. She's at least 15 years older than me, but she's gots the hots for yours truly. And who do we have to blame for this? Her son, Levaquin Boy.

Awhile back Levaquin Lady was in the hospital for pneumonia. When she returned home, Levaquin Boy came by with another script for Levaquin. Now she's up to 750mg TWICE DAILY. I've never seen such a high dose with any other patient. I've left several messages for the prescriber to call and talk this over with me, but he's got a God Complex and minions and pill-counters like us Doctors of Pharmacy are not important enough to call back.

Levaquin Boy was feeling sorry for his mom at home. She was discharged early because of new hospital rules regarding reimbursement which are a direct result of major changes in healthcare, but I wouldn't want to point any fingers at the culprit because there's just soooo many readers of this blog out there that are quite happy with the way things are going healthcare-wise. Someone might say "Socialist Libtards," but I won't.

Anyway, Levaquin Boy decided he wanted to make his mom feel better by getting her a little stuffed animal. I don't even remember what it was now... a chicken? A flamingo? Hell, I don't know. But what I do remember is that Levaquin Boy (he's 27 years old, by the way, living with mom "because of the FAILED ECONOMIC POLICIES of the BUSH ADMINISTRATION" -- whatever that means.) Levaquin Boy didn't want to his mom to know he bought the plush toy for her, so he asked if he could tell his mom that I bought it for her. 

"Sure," I said, not realizing what a mistake that would be someday. I imagine that's how the "Shake Weight" was funded by some capital finance company. "Sure, we'll pay to have that go into production." I can also imagine that's how a lot of crazy tattoos appear on people. "Sure, a skull with bleeding eyes looks like a good idea to me!"

So now when Levaquin Lady comes in, she rolls up (in one of those electric shopping carts) with her hair nicely combed, make-up on, and smelling of some cheap perfume. The perfume isn't enough to cover up the smell of her smoking a pack or more a day, so the blending of the smoke and perfume has a tendency to make me gag a little. And of course, now Levaquin Lady is really, really friendly toward me. I don't know whether to think it is cute or not but I just try to be nice and not fuel the fire started by Levaquin Boy. 

More stories about Levaquin Lady:

Levaquin Lady
Levaquin Lady, part deux


She was lookin' for love in the wrong place
Lookin' for love with a familiar pharmacy face
Searchin' my eyes, lookin' for traces
Of what she's dreamin' of
Hoping to find a friend and a lover
I'll bless the day she discovers,
SOMEONE ELSE - lookin' for her love...