Bonding With Your Patients

We all have to bond with our patients whether we like it or not. To what degree though... well that's up to the person in question.

Today a woman came into our store seeking a refill on her Omeprazole. This woman complained about her high copay ($1) while I brought up her profile. Her blinged out iPhone and bluetooth headset provided a nice rebuttal which I chose not to offer.

Of course it was several days to soon to fill and when I informed her of this she stated her doc upped her dose. She then decides to call up her doc and get it straightened out herself.

I can live with that.

A few minutes later I hear her hollering if she can talk to the pharmacist. I grab them and then she does something that in all my years I have never seen before.

She takes off her bluetooth headset, hands it to the pharmacist and tells him to talk to her doc.

He looks at it a bit confounded as I'm not sure he knew what it was. She explained what it was and told him to clip it over his ear... which he did.

Now this woman was not the most cleanliness patient in the world. Yet he took her headset, which she later mentioned she wears all day because she thinks it looks cool, which makes the whole situation even more disgusting.

So to all you burgeoning pharmacists out there, remember, there is a limit to which you should bond with your patients. Please, for the love of all that is holy, do not emulate this situation.

Consider it my public service announcement for the month of March. You are all welcome.

Can I Get A Refill?

The longer you work in a store, the more you recognize your customers. You may not know all of their names and they may not even have prescriptions filled there, but you recognize them.

So when this elderly lady walked up to the counter, telling everyone she's been coming here for 50+ years, and I didn't recognize her... well I figured this would be fun.

On the counter she set a tiny bottle with a tiny strip of dirtied paper hanging off of it. It was a bottle of Nitroquick with a prescription label.

"I figure its time to get some new ones," She said.

I ask her her name and bring up her profile. It's a pretty bare file as we hadn't filled anything since July 2004, which is slightly before when I started there. That would be why I didn't recognize the woman.

I told her we would have to contact her doctor to get a new prescription as the original one was, obviously, expired. She did not like this and insisted she had picked this up within the last year.

Looking to settle this I grab the bottle (personally I will resist the urge to pick up patient's bottles as much as I can) and inspect the label. It was heavily faded, but I could make out the fill date:

04/14/1996

Wow. Not only does it predate our computer system, but it predates the computer system prior to that. And it certainly was picked up more than a year ago... actually it was picked up more than a decade ago.

Of course when I read the date she realized that it had been more than a year. The only reason she came in was that "... they were startin' to smell a lil funky."

So the little old lady will be getting a new bottle of Nitro on Monday after her doc gets back to us. Hopefully he's seen her more recently than we have, but my bet is he has not.

Does this mean she'll be back for a refill in March 2024? Should I set a reminder? Hmmmmmmm

Have A Cough?

Was diggin' in the basement of one of our stores yesterday when I came across probably a dozen bottles of these;


I knew they used to stock large bottles before, but good lord. I'm trying to imagine what it was like to try and pour something out of those things when they were full.

I guess this is the pharmacy equivalent of "when I was a lad, I walked 4 miles up hill to school with no shoes and a peg leg!"

Bottoms up!

While You Should Never Talk on the Phone in the Bathroom

While digging for some FAFSA info today, I stumbled upon my final speech that I gave for my speech class about four years ago now. It was a story I had found on the internet and I had decided, upon permission from my prof, to read it to the class.

Yes, I made it through the whole thing with a steady voice. And yes, I actually read this in front of an entire class. Although some of you really shouldn't be too surprised.

-----------------------------------------------------

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell.

As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order for my wife.

I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:

0.Occupied.
1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.
2.Poo on seat.
3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and
sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Sh1tter. I wasn't happy about being
next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be.

Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Sh1tter was blathering to Mrs. Sh1tter about the sh1tty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall.

The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became
apparent:

(1) The next-door conversation had ceased;
(2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come;
and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a
gateway to Hell had been opened.

The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting symphony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo.

And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

The Next Step

A short while back I inquired to the readers of this blog what drove them to pharmacy. I later responded with my own reasons and my hope for my career aspirations.

Since I have finally been accepted to a school and roughly know where I will be heading in my life over the next few years, it is time to take the next step and begin to build on those aspirations.

For all the bitching and whining we may do on a daily basis, we do this job to make a difference in the lives of others. Whether we realize it or not, this is truly what we do on a daily basis.

I have spent most of my 9+ years working in the less affluent sections of cities. Yes, there are those who are addicted to drugs and those who abuse the welfare system, but if you look closer you see another subset of people. They are the people who, for whatever reason, are stuck in this realm of society.

They are not bad people, but maybe they have had terrible breaks. And there is not much they can do to climb out of it.

I was lucky growing up in that I had a strong support system. I may not have had a father for the first six years of my life, but I was lucky to have one from that point afterwards. At times, we may not have had a lot, but we had enough and eventually I evolved into the person I am today.

Not everyone has that opportunity though. Some people are forever locked in a viscous cycle of poverty and despair. I see it every single day I'm at work and at times it is heartbreaking.

Then there are the people who reside in this life out of necessity. Maybe both parents lost their jobs at roughly the same time or they had occurred medical bills for a sick child they cannot pay.

On a daily basis I see all sorts of talent and skills being wasted simply because they are not granted the simple opportunities I was. One of my co-techs grew up in a strikingly similar manner as I. The main difference is that I grew up in a small town whereas he grew up in the city.

He is one of the best writers I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and, as he says, the only thing he's ever had in spades in life is words. Yet he was never able to college and, I fear, never will. The thing is he has this talent that may never be put to its full potential which is perhaps most tragic at all.

Hell I feel guilty when I debate purchasing expensive items because I know that so many people have a hard time affording the basic necessities in life.

Where I am going with this you may wonder? I feel it is my opportunity to finally start planning on giving back.

One of my favorite charities is called the Victory Junction Gang. Started by a former NASCAR driver after the tragic death of his son. It is a place where chronically and terminally ill children can experience the life of a normal child while all of their medical costs are paid for by the Camp.

It helps that this happened to be my favorite driver of mine growing up, but its also an idea that I think is spectacular. My goal now is to work out some time of internship to be done over the summers once I start pharmacy school.

Going beyond that, I was shown that several schools offer teaching rotations in public schools. There is something about teaching kids that is immensely interesting to me, especially when you can connect with someone that otherwise would be left out. Perhaps I can help one of those kids I see in our store on a daily basis finally reach their potential.

Sure, this may be all overly ambitious, but it's something I have wanted to do for a long time. And now, after all these years, I will finally have the chance to do so.

I guess its one of the perks of being a future pharmacy student. And, I must say, it's a helluva perk.

Well I'll Be....

My best friend and I have this mantra that keeps us going on a daily basis. Namely that life has a tendency to kick you down. Doesn't matter how high you get, it'll always come back and roundhouse kick you in the balls.

What matter is that despite that, you are able to rise above it and come fighting back. Yes, things may be dreary at that particular moment, but everything happens for a reason and eventually you'll claw back.

With that, I feel the need to share that I received a second acceptance letter at the end of last week. This school is a lot more favorable choice than the first school that accepted me, so I am liable to go there instead.

It's a rather odd feeling knowing less than a week ago I was wondering if I would have to find a job in the fall, and now I hold in my had two acceptance letters.

I guess our mantra works out after all.

And before you ask, I have not decided if I will disclose where I will either decline or be rejected from. The school I'm declining this week is.... well I was very unimpressed with them. Case in point, there was a spelling error in my acceptance email. I find things like that to be EXTREMELY unprofessional, especially considering what the email pertained to.

Additionally it is a fairly major institution, so I'm not sure if I want to burn any bridges. I'm not looking to make any enemies around here and don't want to start pharmacy school with people having preconceived perceptions about me.

Maybe when everything is all said and done I'll reveal a couple of my choices. Until then, y'all will have to just keep wondering...

My Thoughts on Healthcare Reform

To be honest, I will not be posting my specific thoughts on healthcare reform. And here's why.

We will never be able to pass a plan in which every one is content. We will never be able to pass a plan in which even half are content.

It is human nature to fear change and the unknown. We have crossed into a new area in the past twenty-four hours, one Americans have not ventured to before.

Is this the best plan? Maybe not, but rarely are things accomplished on the first try. Such a massive change will be a learning experience and we all must be prepared to live with the positives and the negatives.

To often people decry something simply because it is different. Considering how fucked up our system is right now, I'd say any major change has the possibility of producing good change.

I will leave my final judgment on the matter for several years into the future. Personally I am pleased the problem was recognized and equally pleased there was enough of a drive to actually have legislation passed.

So to recap, no the sky is not falling down. It will be a difficult transition, but I personally believe we have opened the door to a better healthcare system. Whether it will be the system outlined in this particular bill I do not know, but it is at least a step in a proper direction.

And I promise this will be the last time I post on the subject. I'll let Drug Monkey stick to pharmacy politics. He does it far better than I.

A Sad, Sad Customer

Today a new customer came into the store. She had numerous medical conditions on top of which were making her depressed. It was quite obvious what her problems were.

You see she had a propensity for the sweet stuff. In simply viewing her for a very short period, it quickly became apparent that this was her problem. I think at some point, she was married, but no longer was that the case.

It was kind of sad to be honest. The pharmacist and I talked about it and we both genuinely felt sorry for her. Her medical problems weren't really her fault, as it was more how she was made.

I mean really, what else are you supposed to do then?

She talked about how her friends were similar to her and how her best friend shared her pain. Apparently the main difference between the two was her friends propensity for fatty foods. She, instead, insisted on sticking to just the sweet stuff.

Can't say I blame her.

So I dedicate this post to her this evening. It's been a long time since we've had a customer be so open with us. She just oozed information out of her top like there was no tomorrow.

Before she left, she even posed for a picture below:




So Mrs. Butterworth, I want you to know that I am here for you. And I hope you come back soon. Because you are damned tasty.

Thanks For Clarifying

I want to offer the most heartfelt thanks to the largest hospital provider in an area. They updated their prescriptions this past week and have helped to clarify a massive problem we have been having the past several years.

Now, when we receive a prescription, we receive this. The new part is italicized.

John Doe
123 Crackhead Blvd
Whores Galore, CA
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Ya know, we have been massively concerned that Mr. Doe was from Whores Galore, California, Romania. We take great pleasure in knowing he is from the Whores Galore, California in the US of A.

So thank you for taking the time to update this important facet to the prescriptions you send us. It was a much more important problem than the two extra sheets you fax us with each prescription. Or the fact you have three different areas to write a sig in.

You guys tackled the right problem and knocked it out of the park.

Bravo.... bravo...

Your Pharmacy... Now With Convenient Drive Thru!

*BOOM*

"He fuckin' broke it!"

My eyes drifted up from the mass of prescriptions on the counter. An otherwise uneventful day had been disturbed by cavernous thud. Of course my curiosity was peeked, so I wandered to the front of the store.

I figured someone had become angry, for whatever reason and punched a window. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened at the store.

Upon exiting I notice our large double pane plate glass window is completely shattered. A curious image considering how sturdy this particular window is. Immediately my eyes search for the culprit, perhaps some young kid from the neighborhood who had taken a joke just a step too far.

Instead I see a man, in his 60s, leaning against the side of the adjacent building with his bike.

You see he had just bought a $1200 bike from the cycle shop two buildings down and was taking it for a test ride. He struggled to get his feet in the cage on the pedal, he began to tip over... right into our window.

Yes, a 60 year old man crashed through our window on a pedal bike.

How surreal is that? I mean honestly, where the hell else does stuff like this happen?

The man was not injured, he broke the window with only his shoulder. A monumental task in itself, but still.

Needless to say it provided entertainment to an otherwise boring and typical day. At least we can advertise that we have a drive thru now.

It's Over... It's Finally Over

Today was just another day... well aside from the fact of earning the joy of working with the owner.

Since its spring break, and after my recent waitlist notice, I have avoided my school email. With no school, there was nothing pertinent being sent to that particular email account. I figured I needed a break and would check all of my email accounts to kill time.

My account consisted of one email from yesterday.... from one of the schools I applied to.

I am finally relieved to say I know what I shall be doing this fall. That email stated that I was accepted into their program as their Class of 2014.

After staring at the screen for what seemed like hours, I was able to mutter a 'Holy Shit' as I stepped away from the screen.

It's not my first choice... or my seconds... actually its my last choice, but who the hell cares? This entire ordeal is over and a new chapter is set to begin.

It still hasn't fully sunk in yet and I doubt it will completely for several days. I write this now in a state of disbelief, especially when I consider how bleak the prospect looked four years ago.

As I end those post I want those of you who dig yourself in a hole as great as mine that there is hope. You just have to work your ass off 24/7 to earn it back.

Thus, the title of this blog should no longer be "I want to be a pharmacist..." but instead "I will be a pharmacist..."

The Pharmacy Gods Want Us To Drink

Every seems to fear the Pharmacy Gods. They are the ones who slam us with multiple patients waiting at once, while the printer runs out of paper and four doctor's offices call at once. To be honest, they can be royal bitches.

Yet they redeem themselves at times.

From what I can gather, the standard size vial used by the majority of pharmacies across the nation is the 13 dram vial. It's what our robots run off of mainly and most of the bottles we receive from other pharmacies are this sized bottle.

So here is a fun little factoid I have known about for some time and it is something which the Pharmacy Gods offer as retribution for the hell they put us through.

A 13 dram vial is damn near the same size as a shot glass.

What? You may be asking? Can it be that the Pharmacy Gods are willing us to drown our sorrows with alcohol at the end of a long day?

To this I say; Yes!

Really what other possibility is there? Don't give me the, "1.5 ounces is a small size and of course will be close to the size of a shot glass" crap. This is the work of the Pharmacy Gods. If the Gods have the power to request a PA on Omeprazole because they tell an insurance only to pay for brand name Prevacid.... well they have the power to do this.

Alas, I say raise a vial up in the air with your booze of choice and drink. Drink to the Pharmacy Gods and their amazing powers... and drink to the patient who calls twelve times a day to check on their Hydrocodone refill.

Bottoms up!

Phones... Where We're Going We Don't Need Phones...

Technology is truly a wondrous invention. The ease at which helps complex tasks be accomplished is truly astounding at times.

Then there are the times when technology is employed for the sake of using technology. In pharmacy, we refer to these as e-Prescriptions.

In any case, I had devised a solution to help get a patient's med paid by her insurance. She was on a funky dose and I was able to appease her insurance by filling it under 3 different strengths. Tedious, yes, but she would have had to pay several hundred dollars extra out of pocket to meet her dosing.

I decided that I would be a good little pharmacy tech and call the office instead of faxing them. My logic was that it wouldn't be impossible to adequately explain everything over the three small lines we have on our faxes.

So I call the office and speak to the 'head nurse'. All of the other nurses and the doc in question are occupied at the moment. I then asked if I could have the doc's voice mail so I could just leave the message verbally. The answer I received made my jaw drop.

"We don't have voice mail at our office anymore."

Excuse me? I inquired as to what options I have to relay this information.

"Well you can fax it or send it over e-Rx."

Let me get this straight, this office has decided to rely, SOLELY, on an electronic messaging system for communication. I did a little more digging and confirmed that they truly no longer have a voice mail system.

Call their office right now and you hear a kind voice asking you to please call back during regular office hours.

Now how in the hell is this possible? I understand the need to want to use the newest and bestest, yes I said bestest, technology, but this is just freakin' ridiculous.

Why even have phones? You could just have the pharmacy and your patients email the office!

Oh shit, maybe I just gave them an idea...

Another Day... Another Waitlist

You know the most annoying part of this whole process? As you meander though each stage, there are people who will tell you,

"You're a great candidate for pharmacy school, they're surely accept you!"

or,

"It's rare to see someone so well rounded about the profession at your age. I'll be seeing you in the fall."

The latter is even worse when that is the closing remarks of one of the interviewers.

Alas I am on a waitlist... again. At least this time I know where I sit in line. Of course, as always, it was a royal kick in the balls, which have had their fair share of trauma over the years, but at least it's not a no.

That's what I keep telling myself at the moment.

It's just frustrating to have all of this feedback from people, interviewers included, and still nada. It's like dangling chocolate cake in front of a fat kid, but never quite giving it to him.

Chocolate Cake = Pharmacy School

Fat Kid = Me

Alas the waiting game continues for yet another month. Hooray.

Why I Want To Be A Pharmacist

Its odd in that I have explained the answer to this question numerous times at interviews, yet I found it difficult to actually put into words.

How do you adequately describe your life's aspirations while being able to convey the passion behind it?

As you all have gathered, I am a massive pharmacy and chemistry nerd which is evident in some of the decorations I own that the wife does not care for. Actually, I can somewhat understand since I am an uber nerd, but I digress.

That aside, there is something about pharmacy that is innately fascinating. No other medical profession do you have such a direct impact on a patient's life.

Doctors, in some ways, are showered with all of the glory. I will not argue that some of it is deserved, but pharmacists are always over looked. Often,when explaining my choice of pharmacy over medicine, I explain that doctors often save the lives of the patients. Pharmacists are here to make their quality of life better.

I like interacting with people, its what fuels my day. The fact that I could use my knowledge of chemistry and the processes of the human body to increase the joy a person has during a day is immensely rewarding to me. Pharmacists can offer so much to their patients and rarely is this fully realized.

Even more so is the fact that pharmacy is still evolving. Really, who knows what pharmacists will be doing 10-20 years from now? Those who graduated twenty years ago, could you imagine MTMs, vaccination clinics, prescribing abilities (in some states), etc etc? It's almost exciting in a way.

Most of all its where I feel at home. Yes, I flirted with medicine for a while and its probably something I could have done well. It was, however, not something that I felt fit with me.

My whole goal in life is to give back in some way. I want to be able to look back on my life and see that I had a profound impact to not just my patients, but the world in general. Maybe I'm overly ambitious and insightful due to my youth, but I want to change the profession. I will not be one to sit idly by as the profession storms by.

And I feel that pharmacy, specifically retail pharmacy, is where I can most efficiently give back.

Sappy and overzealous? Perhaps, but its what I want to do with my life.

I was once told that in the grand scheme of things the only thing that matters is if at the end of your life you can look back and ask the question 'Was I a good person' and answer yes. The path you may take may have many twists and turns, but ultimately you wind up at that answer.

My path is taking me through the field of pharmacy... and damnit, I cannot wait to start.

A Problem Pharmacist

Now before I tell this story I should offer a disclaimer for those who are reading this blog for the first time. I am normally a very calm and relaxed person at work. A long time ago I was taught that many things are simply not worth getting worked out about. As such, I usually digest situations and file them away as it is not worth my time or energy to get worked up about it at that time.

That being said, I feel I should probably share something I did several weeks back that, while I am not overly proud of, but felt damned good at the time.

I told a pharmacist to fuck off and then walked out on him.

Shocking, right?

Now wait, before you get your panties in a bunch, let me give you the back story behind this.

This guy came to us two years ago from some really weird pharmacy in a magical land where he did nothing but sit and check prescriptions all day. He was a really fun guy to work with though... actually one of the most hilarious pharmacists I have ever worked with.

Over the past several years though he has grown increasingly bitter. Working with him as much as I have over those years, I can surmise what the problem is... and it has nothing to do with work. In either case, he had decided to take out his frustrations on us and the customers.

It had been escalating over the few weeks prior to the incident. The shift I had worked previously was one of the most disturbing I have ever worked in my nine years in pharmacy. I was attempting to help him with an insurance problem when he turned out, looked me in my eye and started screaming at me.

Not only was he screaming at me, but he proceeded to mock me, in the middle of the pharmacy, 3 inches from my face.

Of course, in the same manner that wife beaters attempt to make up their wives, he offered to by me lunch later as an apology but I declined. I have never had someone treat me with such a high level of disrespect in work environment before.

In any case I let it slide on the notion that that was not his typical behavior and maybe his life was at an exceptionally low point.

Fast forward three weeks to our last day together.

I don't want to toot my horn to much, but you'll be hard pressed to find a better tech in the company than me. I've been here six years, I've worked in all the stores, I know every little trick there is to know. Even better is that I thrive in busy, stressful situations when a lot of people cower. I'm not trying to being conceited, I'm just stating facts.

Now he has a habit of giving the techs all of the prescriptions to process. As he said, "I went to school to be a pharmacist, not to type on a computer all day." This particular day he was giving me EVERYTHING. Out of the 160+ scripts that day, I processed all of them myself. It's not like its a ton of work, but its more annoying than anything.

Than I was blessed with listening to him bitch about what poor techs we all were. How the last time we worked together he was swamped (We did about 80 scripts that day in 9 hours with him, myself and other tech) and how he's never worked with such incompetent coworkers before.

All this while he sits on his ass, surfs on the net, flirts with the 40 year old clerk and tosses his work to me.

Nearing the end of the shift I had put the order away and was finally completely caught up. Someone had the local paper lying in the back so I picked up a section and sat in a chair for a few minutes. I hadn't taken a lunch that day and had pretty much been going nonstop since 9am.

Not even 30 seconds after sitting down I hear, "Don't you think you should be doing some work instead of sitting on your ass all day?"

I lost it.

Starting with my 'Fuck Off', I unloaded every frustration I had been letting slide from the past few months. I don't remember precisely what I all I said, I just remember his jaw hanging open as I grabbed my jacket and stormed past him out the door.

I never did see him again after that, and most likely never will.

Its sad because he genuinely is a good guy and could be a really good pharmacist if he wanted to. Hell he and I almost got together for a drink a couple times after work.

Did I react in a good way? Probably not. Although even my manager stated that in reality it was something that was going to happen at some point or another. It doesn't diminish the fact that I did feel bad after it.

I guess we all have difficult coworkers from time to time and how we react to them is a reflection of who we are as a person. But since I reacted in that manner... well what the hell does that mean?

How Have We Ended Up Here?

For two and a half years now I have been typing away at this little blog. What was once read by few and far in-between now has a steady diet of visitors, something which I never truly expected.

As I was contemplating how I have evolved because of this site, and trust me I have, I came to a sudden realization. Over 349 posts I have completely ignored the question which graces the top of this page to all those who visit.

Why I want to be a pharmacist.

To be honest, I had to dig through many posts because I could not believe I had overlooked such an obvious topic. Alas, I have and I will soon rectify it.

Before we get there though, and because for once this is possible, I shall turn the 350th post of this blog to you, the readers. Tell me why you chose to be a pharmacist. Or for those non-pharmers, tell me how you ended up working in your chosen profession.

I am legitimately interested in how we all wind up on the same path or, at least in terms of a different field, wind up running side by side in life. Take as much or as little space as you need.

Afterwards I will post my reasons and finally answer the titular question which graces this site.

That is if some of you long time readers have not grasped it already...

Explain This To Me

We have a patient who is regularly in the local jail. You pick a reason, she's been there. Looking at her profile, you'd think she'd have her own personal cell by now.

Now the kicker is she has special 'contract' with McNeil to get brand name Flexeril and Ultram for free every month. Actually she gets 90 of the Flexeril and 180 of the Ultram.

Soooooo someone who spends more time in a jail cell than at home is some how eligible for a subsidy to get these drugs for free?

Explain to me how the fuck that works?

Yikes

Today my little sister turns 16 and will quite soon take her drivers test. This May my little brother will graduate high school.

I'm married now with gray hairs. All of my friends have houses of their own. We decide not to drink some nights because we don't want to feel ill in the morning.

Good Lord, I'm getting old!

In any case, Happy Birthday little sis. It's your turn to start feeling old.