Voodoo Pharmacy

This is, hands down, the oddest spam comment I have ever had on this site. And yet, after a stressful day at work it oddly starts to make sense...

I am melinda,from what I can read. It has been sad news and scam to everyone about Voodoo casters or so. But to me they are so real cause one worked for me not quite two weeks. I traveled down to where his shrine his and we both did the ritual and sacrifice. and now me and my ex are living very ok now.I don't know about you but Voodoo is real;love marriage,finance, job promotion ,lottery Voodoo,poker voodoo,golf Voodoo,Law & Court case Spells,money voodoo,weigh loss voodoo,diabetic voodoo,hypertensive voodoo,high cholesterol voodoo,Trouble in marriage,it's all he does. I used my money to purchase everything he used he never collected a dime from. He told me I can repay him anytime with anything from my heart. Now I don't know how to do that. If you can help or you need his help write him on (nativedoctor101@live.com) Thank you.

No iPhone For You!

"I was wondering if you could possibly spot me enough of my meds for a week cause I won't have the money for my co-pays until I get paid next week."

An innocuous question, no?

I'm sure most of you are thinking that it is a completely unreasonable request and, as pharmacists, we should see no issue with heeding her request.

Which would be true... unless you had a bit more information.

First, the total amount on her seven medication was $1. I'm pretty sure there is enough change in my couch to total a buck.

Second, she asked this while her blinged-out iPhone 4 sat on our counter. A quick glance at said phone showed numerous pages of apps and, from what I could see on the page showing, numerous paid apps.

Knowing this, does your answer change?

Apparently this person, and many others, can fork over money for a pointless app which makes a farting nose for their phone, but they don't have the dollar for the medications which help keep them alive?

Does anyone else see the issue with this?

Look, I know what it's like not to have money, I live with it every day. I put off buying new shoes for over year until I could not glue or tape them anymore. Why? Because we needed that money for bills, diapers and other necessities.

It was not absolutely required to live, so I did not purchase it. Being able to provide basic needs should supersede any other frivolous spending at all times.

I don't care if someone splurges on themselves every once in a while and, in fact, it can be a good thing. But when you do so at the expense of your basic needs which may harm you, or others, what the hell is the point?

The better question is how we can let low-income individuals, whom for various reasons the public is supporting, be allowed to sign expensive phone contracts or fill said phones of paid apps? How is that fiscally responsible? They can't pay more than a dollar for their medications, but they can pay over $100/month for their iPhone.

Too often in today we rely on others to fix our own problems. We "pass the buck" far far too often and do not take responsibility for our actions.

And it's sad to see.

Ultimately the pharmacist decided not to spot her any of her medications partially for the reasons I mentioned and partially because this is a regular occurrence with said patient. There is only so much charity and hand holding we can do before the patient needs to stand up for themselves.

Cruel? Perhaps. Unprofessional? Maybe. Except for when she came back an hour later and paid with a crisp $20 bill.

Funny how that works.

When False Facts Are Factually False

As I walked into the pharmacy school building on the first day of classes, I was keenly aware that the next four years would be difficult. I knew that it would test every ounce of mental and emotional fortitude that I housed in my geeky little body. In the end, I would be challenged to grow beyond myself into something, hopefully, resembling a health care professional.
Heading to the first day of pharmacy school, I knew that the next four years would be difficult.

What I did not expect was for this road to be made so astonishingly difficult, almost in a sadistic manner.

You see, no one had informed us that professors routinely trick students in lectures and/or exams. That they'll present something as fact, but carefully phrase it in a way that means it is actually false.

Kind of like using a triple-negative to explain something.

When you use said fact and are told you are incorrect, they reply back that we must be acutely aware of how and what it is they say. Phrasing this way is to help develop a higher sense of thinking on our part.

Now how in the hell is that supposed to work? I busted my ass for six years only to be forced to endure another four years of deceptive learning? Leading up to a recent exam, our professor routinely exclaimed that we were over-analyzing material and that, "it will be incredibly straightforward, not requiring overly analytical techniques."

I'll let you guess what the exam was truly like.

And I don't get it. How are we supposed to adequately learn for patients if some of the professors derive some sort of sick pleasure from tricking us? Granted not all of the material is presented in this manner, but enough of it is to make you wonder how we can be taught in such an environment.

Now maybe I feel this way because I am an ardent believer in equality or maybe because I'm still young and relatively un-jaded about the world

Or maybe it's just because it's a steaming pile of bullshit.

I think I like that explanation better.

The Oxycontin OCs: Dedication to Live By

If you haven't received a phone call in the past few weeks of someone asking if you have "any of the Oxycodone tablets with the OCs on it." Then you're probably not working in a pharmacy. It's most likely a Radio Shack. Or maybe a Wendy's.

Probably should check on that.

Earlier this week though, the one OCer took this dedication to a whole new level. This person, for some unknown reason, asked the pharmacist the following question.

"Yea I uh... I threw up a little while ago and uh.... well I threw up my Oxycontin and they're the ones that work with the OC on them and uhhh... is it okay if I take uhh... if I take them again?"

Ya know what, if you're willing to re-ingest your freshly vomited Oxy, you go right ahead. Hell, while you're at it, there might be some left in your shit so why don't you make a sandwich out of that too.

Who says addicts can be dedicated to their trade? I felt like I should give her a freakin' award first for the mental capacity to even come up with such an act, and second for the desire to complete it. It's truly an astounding feat, much like this video.

Actually, I take that back because at least the monkey didn't lick the finger...

Roads... Where We're Going We Won't Need Roads... But We Will Need a Prior Auth

Is there any other rejection phrase I dread more than:

DRUG NOT COVERED; STEP-THERAPY/PA REQUIRED. CALL 1-800-JACKOFF

Seriously, that simple string of words is enough for this normally calm little pharmacy student to erupt in a fury of rage reminiscent of taking a cake away from a fat kid.

What makes it worse is that it happens when you least expect it, eerily similar to a herpes outbreak. Kind of like when someone brought in a new prescription today for loratadine.

"But Phathead," you're saying, "The smidgen of glue that holds the label on the bottle costs more than the number of tablets in the bottle. Never in a million years would a PBM require a PA on it."

Well that would be true... if PBMs were run by human beings with a lick of logic.

This particular plan, cough Medco cough, decided that cetirizine needed to be first line and that, for some god forsaken reason, loratadine would only be paid for after a PA and step-therapy.

Way to go Medco, you just saved yourself a whopping two cents by denying the initial fill. Glory be to you for such a wise financial decision which will ultimately bring troves of riches to your CEO. And by troves, I mean one or two extra Tootise Rolls after lunch.

Long time readers may remember that I have a particular hatred for the sadists that call themselves Medco. If anyone deserves to have bamboo shoots shoved up their urethrae and then forced to watch Glee for 24 hours straight, these guys are the unanimous winners.

After the pharmacist stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of the rejection, we kindly pointed her to the allergy aisle and told her it would only be a few dollars more to bypass this lunacy and receive the same treatment. She agreed, the gray skies parted and for a brief while peace and tranquility returned to the pharmacy.

Until the next PA rejection. About two minutes later.

Damnit.

Rite Aid: Cheapening the Profession $5 at a Time

The majority of us are aware of Rite Aid's guarantee to patients that their prescription will be ready in 15 minutes. For the most part, I don't have a problem with that. I give our guarantee to our patients that if you fill your Norco on time, a Spanish speaking Monkey will fly out of my ass and make you a denver omelet.

See, I can promise things too.

Apparently, this wasn't enough. Oh no, in an age where a Dateline special lurks around the corner for a worn down, exhausted pharmacist to make a mistake, Rite Aid decided to kick it up a notch. They decided to offer a $5 gift card if that 15 minute guarantee is not met.

Bravo Rite Aid, bravo. Way to aim yet another shotgun blast to the image of pharmacy.

We live in a world where pharmacy is viewed as a product based business rather than the service it truly is. That's how PBMs reimburse us, that's how the public views us and that's how we are treated on a daily basis. If we are to truly reach the goals laid out by APhA and other organizations, we must truly remedy this fallacy.

But then there is Rite Aid, making sure that for every step forward that we are shoved back another five.

A few weeks ago I questioned why national organization such as APhA did not denounce WAG's creation of Wal-beer. Again, I ask, how can APhA allow such a cheap attempt to attain customers without disparage?

It doesn't so much matter that the 15 minute guarantee is a game of Russian Roulette as it is. Rite Aid just made sure that the barrel is loaded with five bullets instead of just one.

Rarely are we complemented for the work we do in fixing errors by doctors, solving various insurance issues, keep track of interactions or offering simple advice. We are chastised when their doctor takes one day too long to fax back a refill authorization or when the four different C-IIs they drop off take a bit too long to fill.

The public already treats us like we're the bitch of the health care system, there's no need to give them another whip to play with.

People need to start realizing that in pharmacy the customer is not always right. In fact, they are not a customer at all, they are a patient and we are a health care provider. This is not a Jiffy Lube where we'll top off the washer fluid just for the hell of it.

And with ridiculous programs like the one Rite Aid is employing, we'll have a damn hard time trying to convince anyone otherwise.

It's just too bad they can't use their $5 to buy a six pack of Wal-Beer. Oh wait, I think I just gave someone an idea...

Useless Term of the Day: Generic Utilization

Last week at work one of our newer tech's asked me what the phrase "Generic Utilization" meant. He had seen it on a memo from our DM and couldn't quite grasp what it meant.

The more I thought about it and tried to explain it to him, the more I realized how utterly ridiculous the term was.

The memo itself was telling us that we needed to increase our generic utilization. How though? 95% of what receive is filled as a generic (if one exists) right off the bat. The remaining 5% are either on a brand for a specific reason or are anal retentive and refuse to switch.

So how precisely are we to effect that? Why waste time and energy focusing on something of which we have very little control.

Can someone out there with a bigger and more developed brain explain it in any better fashion?

Spooning

"How much is 5 grams on a teaspoon?"

That's not really the question was expecting when I answered the phone. Actually, I'm not sure if at any point you could expect that particular question.

The question arose from the fact that this woman had picked up a prescription for metronidazole vaginal gel the other day and had accidentally thrown out the applicators. Her logic was that, for whatever reason, a spoon would work just as well. She just didn't know how to measure out the five grams.

Now think about this for a moment. The woman has decided to shove a spoon up her yoo-hoo. With that sort of logic, I'd say it's a good bet it won't be a clean spoon either.

Needless to say the pharmacist and I were able to find extra applicators in the pharmacy, they do a lot of compounding at this store, and advised her to come in and pick them up for no charge.

Add that to yet another perplexing definition to spooning... albeit a far less fun one.

Because God Said So

I'm man enough to admit not only do I not know everything, but that I continually learn new things almost every day. About a week ago there was a note on a patient's prescription asking if she had new insurance coverage for her birth control prescription.

Her response was that since she worked for a 'really religious' organization they had decided that certain medical treatments defied the will of God and that they would not pay for these items. In this case, one of these 'treatments' was birth control. There were also other 'treatments' that were not allowed, but she didn't really wish to discus them.

And no, the organization was not a church or anything similar to that.

In my mind there is no point to delve into a debate on personal beliefs because we each have our own. Mine is no more superior to yours than yours is to mine. We believe what we believe and leave it at that.

This, however, I do have a problem with. How can you deprive someone, specifically an employee, medical coverage for something because of someone else's belief? How is that fair to others?

Furthermore, how is that deemed acceptable in modern health care? What's to keep the CEO of company from deciding, "Ya know what, I don't believe in warfarin therapy because of my God the Flying Spaghetti Monster and I don't want our health insurance to cover it anymore."

Ridiculous? Sure it is, but the scary thing is that that instance really isn't terribly far from what has happened to this poor woman. She seemed like a well educated and well adjusted married adult woman who simply does not want to have children at this time. And yet she is being punished, in a way, for being responsible.

Sure she could just leave her job, but who is really willing to do that in this economy?

I'm all for expecting and honoring every one's beliefs. But when your beliefs deprive an innocent person medical coverage, then I have a bone to pick with you. Push your beliefs through pamphlets, mass emails, televisions ads, whatever pleases you.

But for the love of God, don't deprive people of their right to health care.

Pun most definately intended.

The Man With the Itch

It's dusk in the pharmacy, as the last commuter comes through the drive thru. As the last rays of sunlight streak through the window, a man steps up the counter.

"Hey," he half-whispers, "I can I ask you a question?"

I stroll over to the counter and he leans in, "I have an itching problem. Do you have anything I can... put on it?" Half-exhausted from the mid-afternoon rush, I bring home over to the first aid aisle and show him the Hydrocortisone products.

"Hey... does this stuff like... stay on?" he inquires.

I assure him that it does and depending on where he's applying it dictates whether or not the cream or the ointment would be best suited.

"Well... what about for like under clothes?"

I then tell him that in that case a cream is usually best as it doesn't leave the oily residue on clothing that so many have a disdain for.

"Well... can you... I mean would you.. have sex with it?"

For the first time in months I am held speechless. I inform him that you shouldn't be using it as any type of lubricant for intercourse.

"I've got this like.. like a rash on my johnson... and it itches and burns real bad."

Then to kick it up a notch.... "Do you want to see it?"

It is at this point, I pull the student pharmacist card and mention that I will have to get the pharmacist to help him further. As I stroll back to the pharmacy, suppressing a grin, I kindly tell our pharmacist a gentleman in aisle 4 needs help.

He asks which mean and I point and say, "The man with the itch.."

Presenting the 2010 Medicaid Mother of the Year

My work day after Thanksgiving in this new city proved to be vastly different than what I am accustomed to. Whereas I am used to being completely swamped on Black Friday, here the pharmacies are a wasteland. So imagine my surprise when midway through the day I realized I was in the presence of greatness.

I had met the Medicaid Mother of the Year. Shocking, I concede, that she would choose to visit our little pharmacy on this day, but alas here she stood.

Chatting on her iPhone 4, bedazzled of course, with her Coach purse and fancy manicured nails, she presented to prescriptions for her 18 month old son. And she presented her, and her son's, Medicaid card.

One of the prescriptions was written for Amoxil and the other for Orapred, nothing out of the ordinary. As she loudly chatted with one of her baby's daddies, I took the scripts to the counter and began to input them. It was then that I noticed both scripts had the DAW box checked.

Perplexed, I dialed up the urgent care doc who had written the scripts and asked the nurse on call if she could verify the DAW. Often a slip of the finger can slap DAWs on scripts when they are unintended. When the nurse returned to the phone she informed me that it was the patient that had insisted on the DAW and that they were written correctly.

Cute.

We call her to the counter and the pharmacist asks her why she's insisting on the name brand version of these medications. Her reply was that, "Generics don't work that good and she wants the best for her bab-ah."

We both calmly explain that in order to fill each of these prescriptions we would have to order the drug in. The likelihood that a store in our area would have either one of these drugs in stock was negligible. And, since it was a Friday, we informed her the soonest we could get the medication would be Monday morning.

"That's ok," she replies.

Next we inform her that in order for Medicaid to pay for these medications we're going to have to get a prior auth on both drugs. That, in itself, meant that we wouldn't be able to bill the insurance for payment until Wednesday at the absolute earliest.

"I'll just wait, he can tough it out until then, he's a strong lil dude like his daddy. I just want him to get the best meds, I don't want none of that cheap shit."

Let's get her tiara and flowers ready, because this woman just kicked the rest of the competition to the freakin' curb.

Yes, let's deprive your ill child of the medication he needs simply because you have some sort of righteous belief that you deserve the best even though it is those like myself who will pay for it. Never mind your suffering child, hold tight to that notion.

Because when child services show up, it's the only thing you're going to have left.

African American Friday

I can never adequately explain the kindness people showed me while I worked one of my last shifts at Walmart on Thanksgiving. The sheer number of people who would stop and merely thank me for working was astounding.

Except for one person. Below is her almost verbatim response to my simple of question of how she was for the day.

"I'll tell ya how I'm doin', I'm damned pissed. All this talk about 'Black Friday' this and 'Black Friday' that... everyone's all racist up in that shit. They need to call it 'African American Friday' and stop puttin' down black people. We've been through enough with all the slaves and ghettos and shit and now they have to name some day after us to have sales? Well fuck that shit."

Well then...

The Tale of the Rogue Shitter

“Do you have a tissue?”

A seemingly innocuous question, especially considering the time of the year.

“No,” I replied. “Walmart generally doesn’t let us keep tissues here for public use.”

She nodded, I finished checking her out, and she calmly walked away.

Looking up to the next woman in line, I notice an expression of confusion and slight terror in her eyes.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

She stammers, “Is that… is that shit?”

Perplexed I leaned over the counter to see what she was pointing at. There, on the normally sparking white floor, was a smeared brown mass leading away from the register. Trailing away from the smear proper were clear footprints with a small Nike symbol emblazoned upon them.

Quickly, I begin to analyze my encounter with the previous customer. There was a hint of tequila on her breath… did she stammer? What else did she buy? Was she wearing a dress?... Yes she was, a black and white floral print dress.

Why did she ask for a tissue? Oh wait…

The woman in line quickly steers her cart to another line while I block off my lane. I beckon for the CSMs to come to my area. Needless to say we are taught how to handle all sorts of spills, but human feces is not one of them.

“What… is that chocolate ice cream?” asks my perplexed CSM. When I state what I believe it to be she quickly asks, “Should we smell it?”

Should we smell it? You didn’t need to smell it. There was the typical corn kernel present, the ultimate calling card of feces on the floor.

If there even is such a thing.

How you can casually walk away from such an event I will never know. And to knowingly track it all the way out the door on top of it. In some twisted way, I'm impressed she maintained her composure, although now I know why she was exceptionally polite to me.

It’s also a good thing for her she chose to go commando that day. It was, however, not a good thing for us that she chose to go commando that day.

Moral of the story is when you gotta go, just go on the floor. Everyone likes a surprise.

Maybe Being A Pharmacist Isn't So Bad

No words at needed for this post, but a simple warning. Do not start watching this video on full screen mode. You'll see why.

http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=f2d_1284588370&p=1

Hooked on Phonics for Prescribing

Little verbiage from me today other than a collection of some prescriptions I have seen come my way over the past two weeks.

I thought being in a much bigger city would provide at least slightly better prescription writing skills.

I was wrong.

Avelox 40mg/0.4mL
#5
Inject Daily For Five Days

Vytorin 10/40mg
#6
Take 1 tablets as needed prior to sexual intercourse

Lisinopril 20mg
#30
Take 1 tablet. Inject in right eye four times daily for diarrhea

Oxycontin 80mg
#120
Take 1 tablet by mouth four times daily
Refills: PRN

Somewhere, some place, Grumpy is rolling around in his office...

Druggie Math

Woman comes to the drive thru Saturday night, naturally, ten minutes before close. She presents a narc prescription for Opana ER, an odd drug of choice around here.

We ever so kindly explain to her that we do not have this drug and, from our files, it does not appear anyone within our area has this particular strength in stock.

Her response?

Well.. I gots this injury and they give me like mor-feen which worked kinda good and Oxy which worked kinda good at someone told me this combines da two in ta one

Alrighty here, for those playing at home this druggie formulated the following math problem.

Oxycodone + Morphine = Oxymorphone

Actually, for a collection of people who cannot seem to figure out that 30 tablets, at one per day, equals a 30 day supply, this is pretty clever.

Sadly though, we attempted to explain to her that, like many other things in her life, she failed at this math problem.

Boo hoo.

Side note: When talking to your pharmacist, do not refer to Oxycontin as Oxy. Ya know, if you actually want us to fill anything for you.

Don't Tell Me I Can't Do Something

If you really want to light a fire under my ass, try telling me I can't do something. For whatever reason, when someone states that I will be unable to accomplish something, it ignites this insane desire to not only succeed, but to do so at an astronomical level.

When I first started in pharmacy, back when I was a wee 15 year old, someone told me that there was no way I would last long as an employee. After that, I strove to disprove that and ultimately worked for that pharmacy for eight years, including a consultation gig, and it is part of what drove me to pharmacy.

When I made the decision to continue on to pharmacy despite my lowly GPA, several people told me it was a fruitless cause. Needless to say, it was a great thrill when I ran into one of them recently when I was able to tell them that not only was I accepted at one school, but I was accepted at four.

Normally I am not overly competitive. Most of the time I think excessive competition is fruitless for all parties involved. Yet, I make an exception in these cases.

What brings this up? I've had a couple of people tell me that there is no way I will be able to succeed in pharmacy school seeing as I need to work many more hours than a normal pharmacy student and raise a family well doing so.

Oh it's on now.

I may have said I'm not shooting for Rho Chi, or anything of that nature, but I'm sure as hell not going to roll over these next four years. My goal is to be able to bitch slap these people during my graduation with all that I have accomplished.

And it shall be glorious.

Head, Meet Wall

"Ooooh oooh oooh, I know the answer!"

I have a feeling I'll be hearing that phrase, or some variation of it, a lot over the next three years. The biggest question is whether or not there is enough alcohol in the world to keep me from strangling said persons.

Case in point, we had our first group work of the semester yesterday. Nothing overly difficult, obviously, but it was the first interaction of small groups since we've been in pharmacy school.

And it made my head hurt.

What the hell is it with people? I derive the answer to a question their asking, explain it to them and their response is, "Well I understand what you're saying, but I'd prefer to have written proof from another source before putting that down as my answer."

Huh? It's the opening lab of the first year of pharmacy school. It's just a simple question which is not going to be scored? What the fuck does it matter?

Later on we come to another question in which they were a bit stumped. It involved how a certain aspect of the human body operated. I remembered, in great detail, how this action worked and explained it to them in as remedial terms as I could.

Their response? Ask a TA who repeated, almost word for word, what I said.

Then there was a question regarding data and whether or not it would be wise to draw a linear line through the points. There were six points and they were in a row, albeit not a perfect row though.

A debate began on what was meant by 'drawing through the points'. Did it mean that it had to go directly through the points, because the answer is no since you can't do that. What if the data plateaus off in the future or becomes parabolic. Maybe that one point is an outlier (it was maybe 2mm off the other data points) and shouldn't be counted.

All on one fucking question.

It's going to be an awful long three years...

Would You Like Your Plavix Toasted?

Ran into a guy on my way to lunch yesterday at work. He was standing near the pharmacy section of the store looking perplexed at all of the various pill boxes. Naturally, I decided to ask if he needed help.

He replied yes, he had lost his 7 day box this morning. I asked him what happened to it when he told me a short story.

You see I filled my box for the week with all of my medications. I then proceeded to put it in the microwave, on high, and set it for five minutes. I do not know why I did this.

After it dinged, I saw that everything had melted together. I tried to suck up the liquid with a straw, but the straw melted too. Now I guess I need a new pill box to hold everything.

**Letting that digest**

If you had guessed I stood there wide-eyed with mouth gaping, you would be completely correct. Why on Earth this man had done this, not even he had known. It is one of the most strange things I have ever had a patient tell me in the ten years I've been associated.

I guess, whenever I have the opportunity again, the next time I take a prescription from a patient, I will have to ask them if they want it toasted. Or melted.

Yikes.

How I Almost Lost A Testicle: Redux

Tonight I decided to do a rewrite of one of my very first posts on this blog. The original can be found here.

I have no shame. Truly I don't.

Case in point, of the more fun stories I like to tell about myself is a story most would shy away from. You see, at one point in my very young life there was a very real possibility that I would lose a testicle.

How is this a fun story you may be asking? Because I cannot do anything in an ordinary way.

Living in the dorms during your freshman year in college provides ample opportunity for... creative activities. I'm talking about nights where we created downhill stairwell skiing. These were MENSA moments I tell ya.

One of these nights we were occupying our time by throwing things at each other. It was a manly game to determine who could either have quick enough reflexes to catch said object or to see how could endure the most pain from not catching it. Again, genius stuff right here.

In the midst of a flying batteries and small bouncy balls, my buddy decides to take aim at myself. Using moves straight out of The Matrix, or at least I thought so, I jumped and twisted in spectacular form... and promptly was nailed directly in the nuts.

This was no glancing blow, the object thrown had the accuracy of a heat seeking missle. What made things worse is that in my attempt to look uber cool, I had left said testicle hanging freely in the air.

It was like waving a big ole chocolate cake in front of a hungry fat kid.

Immediately I collapsed as the typical wave of nausea and pretty colors flooded my senses. Being the young and cocky male I was at that time, I put on a tough face and continued on with the night, although with a noticeable limp for the next couple days.

That was that. Or was it?

About a month later, my girlfriend at the time and I spent a weekend day at an amusement park. It was a fun day, full of exhilerating rides, over priced food and screaming children.

I awoke the next morning in our hotel room with an odd pain in my loins. Attempting to climb out of bed and stand up, I promptly collapsed back onto the bed. Once I finally willed myself erect, I found myself walking bow-legged. You'd think I'd been riding a horse all day or something.

Thinking I had broken something, we drove the two hours home on a bumpy freeway as I plotted a visit to the local urgent care. Every bump felt like a hot poker being shoved in... well my poker. My girlfriend at the time initially found it funny and, had it not been for her legit concern as the day wore on, I probably would not have went to see a doc.

Again, cocky young male at this time.

Once in the exam room, I was hit with a barage of STD (or STI or whatever you want to call them now) questions. It was almost as if he was trying to trick me into admitting to cross-dressing while working a hooker specializing in midgets. Question after question after question as I sat there with my fun parts throbbing.

Finally he decided that I wasn't sleeping with half of the city and that I needed to produce a urine sample. I was promptly given, at the time what seemed like, a 20 gallon bucket to fill up. Normally this wouldn't have been bad except that when I went to go I was walked in... three times.

The last time I was tempted to ask the woman if she wanted to help, but was too afraid she would actually say yes.

When the doc finally comes back, he tells me that he thinks that my testicle is twisted (like a meatball in spaghetti he says) and that I may need to have surgery immediately to remove it. First, he wants an ultrasound to double check the damage.

Naturally the woman doing the ultrasound was a woman in her mid-50s. Also naturally, the gel they used was fresh out of the freezer. Shrinkage plus near Medicare-aged woman is not the dream situation of a young guy. Luckily the woman was very professional and I slowly began to forget that she was massaging my gel covered balls.

Never did get her phone number though.

Seeing the inside of your manhood is an awe-inspiring experience. You almost wanna pat the screen on the back and give them an 'Atta boy!'.

After my exhilarating massage, I found my way back to the exam room. The doc came back a few minutes later with a diagonis.

Epididymitis.

What had happened was that the trauma of being nailed in the junk had caused urine to back up the urethra and into the epididymis. More or less, my nut was infected.

To make things even more interesting, I later found out that the doc who treated me was the brother of one of the pharmacists I worked with. It made for an interesting meeting when he stopped by one of the store a months later. Judging from his face, I was obviously a memorable case.

So let this be a life lesson for all who read this. Hitting a guy in his jewels, while perhaps funny and stress-reducing, can lead to serious complications. I paid several hundred dollars to play 20 STD questions with a doc and have a testicular massage by my grandma.

It's not fun.

Alas, I still have my testicle... actually both of them. Now aren't you glad you know that?