Your Tax Dollars Fund Medicaid

Today at work was a real cluster. It was one of those days where I won but still felt like I lost.

Getting slammed in the pharmacy is an interesting phenomenon. You run around for 10 hours putting out fire after fire. You talk to countless people and check hundreds of prescriptions. Throughout that span of time you do everything from the mundane to the essential. Then, suddenly, it's 10 minutes until closing time. You haven't eaten, drank, or urinated in roughly 8 hours without even realizing it because you haven't had a chance to think about it. You've been doing 'more important things'. More important things range from finding toilet paper for the old lady who believes that this is your primary function in the pharmacy to correcting a child's medication dose so they don't end up dead or debilitated at the end of the day. It happens.

I digress. Of course, plenty of funny shit happened as it does every day. On to the highlights!!!!

It was at the height of rush hour (4-6 on most days, or in todays case, 4 to infinity) that Ward Of The State came chugging up to the counter. Ward Of The State is and industry term for someone who's been on Medicaid since birth and will remain so until death. I said 'chugging' because WOTS are always overweight. Always. It's like they've been living off Twinkies and salami for the last 10 years. They lumber. The lisp. They are odoriferous. Christ.

WOTS had a large plastic bag in tow. I knew she would. She slammed it down on the counter with authority. The earth quaked, as though it had been rocked to it's very foundation. Sirens sounded at NORAD. The Gods themselves shuddered, and for a minute life stopped. This bag contained many empty pill bottles that were not from my pharmacy. This means trouble. This means I'll have to get ahold of whatever pharmacy these Rxs came from and transfer them to my pharmacy. For those of you not in pharmacy, this is a lot of work. Roughly 30 minutes of work, which is hard to come by in good ol' Corpopharm. Corpopharm loves it because it means more Rx volume for them. It means the end of the world for me because I am already 30 minutes behind.

WOTS: I need these transfered! Can I wait?
Me: (ohgoodgodchristalmighty) This will take some time...
WOTS: I can wait. Sure!
Me: (what would Judas do) Ok, have a seat and I'll get to work on this.

This situation is a gamble. As I quickly scanned her meds, I saw many psych drugs that meant this person was mentally ill. This was further evidenced by her strange mannerisms, abnormal facial movements and the fact that she looked as though she'd dressed in the dark and smelled like an old folks home. She is bound to interpret 'some time' differently than you and I. She could be back up to the counter in 10 seconds raving about Jesus and the Apocalypse or sit in the corner and drool on herself until the cows come home. You just never know.

So, I did all I could do. I got on the horn like a good little Drug Monkey and transfered her scripts from BFE Kentucky (look it up on Google maps, I promise you'll find it). The pharmacist that I was getting the scripts from was all too reluctant to let them go. I believe her actual response was this:
'She's gone?!? OHMYGOD!!!!! (drops phone, yelling at the rest of her staff) WOTS left! She moved!!'

I forgot to mention that most of her scripts were out of refills. When she returns tomorrow, I won't have 4 to 5 of them. Imagine trying to explain this to a Martian, and that's what it's like trying to explain it to WOTS. And I've got to do it in about 7 hours. Shit.