I just put clean sheets on my bed. They smell GREAT.
This weekend at the pharmacy went pretty well over all. Saturday was smooth sailing the whole way, and I even managed to get the monthly CII count done on time. It wasn't until the last few hours of Sunday that everything got derailed and resembled a more 'normal' pharmacy experience.
Inside of me, where many people have a soul, imagine a expansive space occupied by many little men in white coats. They're all wearing round, black spectacles, black ties and shiny black shoes. They mill about with content looks on their faces set to various errands and tasks of great importance. They are competent and determined, knowing their place in the universe and fulfilling the requirements that they are there for. All except one. On the edge of the group, there is a solitary little man who seems distracted. He senses something is... awry. Little beads of sweat stand out on his forehead as he begins to snatch desperate glances here and there. Suddenly, as if a appearing out of nowhere, a minivan spewing black smoke and noxious odors is roaring down on him. It's full of crying, indigent babies and has faux wood paneling on the sides. The driver is a cackling, raving old hag that's lighting a cigarette and applying garish red lipstick at the same time. His colleagues cry out to him, but it's too late. The minivan runs him down and careens across the expanse to somewhere else unknown.
Today, the first incident occurred at drive through, and what I just described above is what happens inside of me every time that damn bell rings. The woman in the car states that she has 2 prescriptions to pick up. I find 2 scripts waiting for her, and notice that one of them has been filled for cash because her insurance company requires a prior authorization (PA) and won't pay for it until the PA has been completed.
PA situations deserve an entire explanation of their own. For now, just understand that what it means is that the insurance company won't pay for the medication until the patient's doctor provides the insurance company with some information. Understand that this process takes time. Understand that none of it has anything to do with the pharmacy save for the fact that we're the ones that get to inform the patient about the situation, and we're the ones that get shit on.
The handwriting on the paperwork is another pharmacist who sometimes works in my pharmacy. Shit. The odds that this pharmacist informed the lady about the PA situation is worse than my odds of digging up Hoffa in my back yard.
I inform the lady of the PA situation. She does not understand.
Lady: What the hell's the problem? My doctor called the prescription in!
Me: Yes, I know. What he hasn't done yet is complete the PA, so your insurance won't pay for it. You can still get it, but you'll have to pay out of pocket. It's $500.
Lady: Well, I'll just pay for it (she starts sticking a ten dollar bill into the pass-through).
Me: You don't understand. It's $500.
Lady: (going ballistic) What is this shit? Do you want me to commit suicide? I'll just go home and kill myself!
She proceeds to scream about killing herself right then and there for the supposed enjoyment of everyone within earshot. I give her a few days worth of her medication and tell her to call her doctor tomorrow to check on the status of the PA, hoping she'll leave and not take any bystanders with her.
The next scenario takes place as I'm closing the pharmacy. On the weekends, the pharmacy closes before the rest of the store closes, so people are still in the store when I'm shutting things down. As I'm closing, a woman approaches the counter and hands me a CII script for a pain medication. She tells me (not asks) that she'll wait for it.
Wait for what? My foot in her ass? Because that's what you get when you bring in a new prescription at closing time and expect it in 5 minutes. I ask her if she has any medication at home to get through until tomorrow, and she says no, but that it's really important that she get it tonight. I look at the date on the script and see that it's dated from Friday. Today is Sunday.
Let me tell you something:
Important is not showing up when your pharmacy is normally closed to get a medication that you think you need urgently. Important is not waiting 2 days after getting a new script to go and get it filled. Important is not waiting until you run out of medication, take the very last little pill, and THEN decide to go and get more. That is stupidity, and I do not appreciate it.
Her doctor also didn't help out. He wrote for a dosage form that doesn't exist and a dosing schedule that was inappropriate based on her previous usage of this drug. When it rains, it pours. Besides the fact that I was closed, I could have told her 'no happy pills today' because I had to fix her doctors boo boo before I could fill it. Of course, then she would have been without her pain meds all night and I would have been the bad guy.
So, I get her taken care of and am closing the gate when another idiot lurches up to the counter and says she needs to pick up a script. It's now 15 minutes after the pharmacy is closed as evidenced by the huge damn sign right in front that displays the hours of operation. The script is not there and I ask her if the doc was supposed to call it in. She hands me a bottle showing me what she needs. Christ. It's for Duradrin, a headache med that's been unavailable from the producer for weeks. I explain this to her, and she flips. Completely loses her shit. She claims that she called in a refill last week and that it should be ready. Apparently, to her, 'off the market' means that I'm hiding a private stash in back for her and will supply it if she screams loud enough.
After she stops bleating, I tell her that we'll need to get a new prescription from her doctor for another medication since this medication is no longer available. She says that she knows it's not available, she had to come to my pharmacy from her normal pharmacy last time because they were out of it. I almost short circuited. She had learned last time that her drug was in short supply and soon to be unavailable, but still somehow thought that if she came to my pharmacy that she could get it. What did she think I would do, pull some out of my ass? Sprinkle pixie dust and form some from thin air? WHAT THE FUCK?
That's how it goes, I guess. It's hard to end the weekend on a bad note like the end of today, because it sticks in your head. I feel better know that I've written it down, though. Now I'm going to play video games and drink until those memories are a blurry smudge.
