Most Wednesdays I work at my pharmacy all day. Open to close. 14 blessed hours.
The first episode occurred fairly early on in the day. This instance allows me to elucidate on a theory that I've been hypothesizing since the beginning of my pharmacy career. People who do crazy shit at the end of the day (i.e., 5 PM or later) may have just been having a bad day. People who do crazy shit at the beginning of the day (noon or earlier) are just fucking crazy. Or stoned. That's an ever-present possibility in the apothecary world.
A man approached the pick-up area of my pharmacy this morning around 10-ish. His appearance was slightly disheveled. Read: crazy.
Giggles: Do you have an Rx to pick up?
Crazy: No.
Just no. No explanation, no further elaboration, just no. Crazy continued to stand in front of the counter, wobbling a bit and emitting crazy rays to anyone in the surrounding area. I stood aghast.
Giggles stared at the creature until it decided to communicate further. It had a pair of reading glasses in it's hand, and was eying them as though they had just grown arms.
Crazy: The price musta gone up 2 or 3 times since I last looked! That's kinda fuckin' greedy!
Giggles' face dropped. That reaction was unnexpected, to say the least.
Our new creature wandered back to the eyeglasses display. At this point, both Giggles and I were watching raptly. It took the reading glasses it held and returned them to the display with an authoritative 'slam'. It began pulling other pairs, seemingly regardless of their strengths, off the display at random and quickly holding them up to it's eyes.
Crazy: No. Fuckin' greedy. No. Fuckin' greedy: NO! FU....
This carried on for less than a minute, but will stretch on into eternity in my mind. I think the Reading Glass Lunatic was looking for the magic pair of spectacles that would make it sane again. Just imagine it: you're in the pharmacy getting your birth control or cough medicine or whatever and suddenly this sodden oaf just starts tossing F-bombs and wrecking the merchandise. It's a toss up between calling the cops and just strangling the poor thing.
After playing optometrist for a good four minutes, Crazy just up and left. I wonder how it decided...
20 March 2008
27 February 2008
Pharmacy Relations
I don't know about you, but in my line of work, it's important to be happy.
-Raoul Duke
Contained herein is a set of instructions for the burgeoning pharmacist. Or, even an experienced one looking for guidance. A day in the life of a retail pharmacist is not easy at best and downright horrible at worst. Many of the hardships and difficulties a pharmacist encounters throughout his or her workday involve the patient/customer (depending upon how you look at them). This article is a guide on how to avoid them.
I sound like an asshole, right? I pose to you a question: When you enter a pharmacy, would you like to wait a short or long amount of time for your prescription? I think the answer is obvious. Then realize this: the more people I talk to throughout the day is directly proportional to how long your prescription takes to get filled. I propose a simple formula:
2x = t
x = the number of people in the store that engage me in conversation
t (minutes) = the amount of time it takes to fill your Rx
Now who's the asshole? That's right. The person that's asking me to find the mustache wax for them. I actually got asked that the other day. I tried to be polite, but I usually fail. On to the instructions...
1. Avoid all eye contact
Sounds easy, right? Wrong. The human eye is naturally drawn to movement and activity. Training yourself out of this goes against millions of years of evolution and is actually very difficult to do. However, after being surrounded by knuckle dragging troglodytes for 8-14 hours every day, you'll find yourself to be rather adept at it.
Avoiding eye contact keeps you disengaged from a potential threat. If you meet eyes with a person, you're acknowledging their presence. This is a mistake. It leads them to believe that you would like to engage them in conversation when in fact you don't even have time to void your bladder let alone tell them where the new Brittany Spears CD is.
2. Behave boorishly
Being rude is actually easier than it sounds. I guess it's a little like murder: it gets easier every time you do it. Whether it's an off color comment, suggestive hand gesture or outright insult you can be sure there's no easier way to dispatch an unwelcome assailant. Here's a few examples:
Patron: Where is (x)?
Me: (gesturing towards my name tag which states my title as pharmacist) I don't stock the shelves. I do not know where that is located.
Patron: The bathroom is out of toilet paper!
Me: (extending palm) Talk to the hand, bitch.
This next one is a classic. I call it The Finger, although it's not the one you're thinking of. I use it when people approach the consultation window (which is adjacent to my workstation) and interrupt me while I'm checking a script. They don't even greet me, or make an introduction, they just start of with their question as such:
Patron: So on TV the other day I saw this new weight loss thing...
At this point, I give them The Finger. I do not make eye contact, I do not speak to them, I merely extend my arm, then extend my index finger and say:
Me: I'm in the middle of something. Please be patient.
I absolutely love that last one. It puts most people off so much that they just walk away.
3. Hide
My workstation is at the front of the pharmacy next to the 'consultation' window. This means people can approach me and have direct contact if they so desire. However, there is a wall in front of me that is about 5 feet high. I've discovered that if i seat myself on a short stool in front of my computer that I'm mostly hidden from the milling crowds in front of the pharmacy. This becomes superior even to tactic number 1. If people don't see me, they can't bother me. Perfect. Other ways to hide are to go to the bathroom or leave the pharmacy and attempt to blend in with other patrons. Of course, you must first remove your lab coat or you're dead in the water. Come on, rookie.
4. Pretend to be on the phone
This one is a no brainer. Just keep that phone to your ear and pretend to yell at that insurance agent that you actually were yelling at a half hour ago.
5. Just ignore them
That's right. Sometimes all it takes is a simple denial of existence to alienate some asshole. Hey, for all they know, I could be deaf.
6. The bitch slap
Wind up, take aim, and deliver your pharmacy wrath right across that intruders cheek. Yell "Pow, biatch!" for full effect. Remember, this tactic can earn you a court date if not used with discretion.
7. The tech pick
Just like basketball. A quick dash behind one of your technicians will put them between you and the blue haired old lady who spends 4 minutes trying to say lisinopril.
There you have it. By choosing any one of these behaviors you can be sure that your next day at work will be a more productive one. These simple techniques are very effective in the pharmacy, but by no means need be restricted to there. They can be used in many everyday situations, from dealing with an annoying coworker to avoiding a friend or loved one. Use your imagination.
-Raoul Duke
Contained herein is a set of instructions for the burgeoning pharmacist. Or, even an experienced one looking for guidance. A day in the life of a retail pharmacist is not easy at best and downright horrible at worst. Many of the hardships and difficulties a pharmacist encounters throughout his or her workday involve the patient/customer (depending upon how you look at them). This article is a guide on how to avoid them.
I sound like an asshole, right? I pose to you a question: When you enter a pharmacy, would you like to wait a short or long amount of time for your prescription? I think the answer is obvious. Then realize this: the more people I talk to throughout the day is directly proportional to how long your prescription takes to get filled. I propose a simple formula:
2x = t
x = the number of people in the store that engage me in conversation
t (minutes) = the amount of time it takes to fill your Rx
Now who's the asshole? That's right. The person that's asking me to find the mustache wax for them. I actually got asked that the other day. I tried to be polite, but I usually fail. On to the instructions...
1. Avoid all eye contact
Sounds easy, right? Wrong. The human eye is naturally drawn to movement and activity. Training yourself out of this goes against millions of years of evolution and is actually very difficult to do. However, after being surrounded by knuckle dragging troglodytes for 8-14 hours every day, you'll find yourself to be rather adept at it.
Avoiding eye contact keeps you disengaged from a potential threat. If you meet eyes with a person, you're acknowledging their presence. This is a mistake. It leads them to believe that you would like to engage them in conversation when in fact you don't even have time to void your bladder let alone tell them where the new Brittany Spears CD is.
2. Behave boorishly
Being rude is actually easier than it sounds. I guess it's a little like murder: it gets easier every time you do it. Whether it's an off color comment, suggestive hand gesture or outright insult you can be sure there's no easier way to dispatch an unwelcome assailant. Here's a few examples:
Patron: Where is (x)?
Me: (gesturing towards my name tag which states my title as pharmacist) I don't stock the shelves. I do not know where that is located.
Patron: The bathroom is out of toilet paper!
Me: (extending palm) Talk to the hand, bitch.
This next one is a classic. I call it The Finger, although it's not the one you're thinking of. I use it when people approach the consultation window (which is adjacent to my workstation) and interrupt me while I'm checking a script. They don't even greet me, or make an introduction, they just start of with their question as such:
Patron: So on TV the other day I saw this new weight loss thing...
At this point, I give them The Finger. I do not make eye contact, I do not speak to them, I merely extend my arm, then extend my index finger and say:
Me: I'm in the middle of something. Please be patient.
I absolutely love that last one. It puts most people off so much that they just walk away.
3. Hide
My workstation is at the front of the pharmacy next to the 'consultation' window. This means people can approach me and have direct contact if they so desire. However, there is a wall in front of me that is about 5 feet high. I've discovered that if i seat myself on a short stool in front of my computer that I'm mostly hidden from the milling crowds in front of the pharmacy. This becomes superior even to tactic number 1. If people don't see me, they can't bother me. Perfect. Other ways to hide are to go to the bathroom or leave the pharmacy and attempt to blend in with other patrons. Of course, you must first remove your lab coat or you're dead in the water. Come on, rookie.
4. Pretend to be on the phone
This one is a no brainer. Just keep that phone to your ear and pretend to yell at that insurance agent that you actually were yelling at a half hour ago.
5. Just ignore them
That's right. Sometimes all it takes is a simple denial of existence to alienate some asshole. Hey, for all they know, I could be deaf.
6. The bitch slap
Wind up, take aim, and deliver your pharmacy wrath right across that intruders cheek. Yell "Pow, biatch!" for full effect. Remember, this tactic can earn you a court date if not used with discretion.
7. The tech pick
Just like basketball. A quick dash behind one of your technicians will put them between you and the blue haired old lady who spends 4 minutes trying to say lisinopril.
There you have it. By choosing any one of these behaviors you can be sure that your next day at work will be a more productive one. These simple techniques are very effective in the pharmacy, but by no means need be restricted to there. They can be used in many everyday situations, from dealing with an annoying coworker to avoiding a friend or loved one. Use your imagination.
21 February 2008
Fentanyl Fun
There was a guy at the gym tonight wearing cut-offs. Honest to christ cut-off jean shorts. I'm sure you know what's coming next, but I might as well say it. He also had a mustache. I started to wonder if I had mistakenly wandered onto the set of a porno instead of going to the gym like I normally do.
I heard about an unfortunate event at another pharmacy in a town not far from me in the Corpopharm grapevine the other day. A little background before I get to the point.
Fentanyl patches are a medication used to treat chronic pain conditions. Fentanyl is an opiate analgesic related to morphine. You put the patch on your body, and it delivers the medication slowly and steadily through your skin and eventually into your bloodstream. It's an effective way to relieve pain in people with varieties of maladies from cancer to nerve pain, but doesn't come without risks.
One of these risks is the potential for abuse. These patches are stolen from hospice patients and scavenged from garbage cans because they still contain a quantity of drug even after they have been used by the patient for therapeutic reasons. The remaining drug can be extracted by a variety of means and used for illicit purposes.
A Corpopharm in a neighboring town dispensed a months supply of these fentanyl patches to a woman a few weeks ago. After picking them up, she proceeded directly to the bathroom within the Corpopharm store. She locked herself in a stall, withdrew the fentanyl gel from one of her patches, and injected it directly into her arm. The amount of drug she gave herself was equivalent to a 3 days supply, all at once. A Corpopharm employee found her dead an hour later.
Next time you decide to try something new to get high, you might consider consulting with your pharmacist first.
I heard about an unfortunate event at another pharmacy in a town not far from me in the Corpopharm grapevine the other day. A little background before I get to the point.
Fentanyl patches are a medication used to treat chronic pain conditions. Fentanyl is an opiate analgesic related to morphine. You put the patch on your body, and it delivers the medication slowly and steadily through your skin and eventually into your bloodstream. It's an effective way to relieve pain in people with varieties of maladies from cancer to nerve pain, but doesn't come without risks.
One of these risks is the potential for abuse. These patches are stolen from hospice patients and scavenged from garbage cans because they still contain a quantity of drug even after they have been used by the patient for therapeutic reasons. The remaining drug can be extracted by a variety of means and used for illicit purposes.
A Corpopharm in a neighboring town dispensed a months supply of these fentanyl patches to a woman a few weeks ago. After picking them up, she proceeded directly to the bathroom within the Corpopharm store. She locked herself in a stall, withdrew the fentanyl gel from one of her patches, and injected it directly into her arm. The amount of drug she gave herself was equivalent to a 3 days supply, all at once. A Corpopharm employee found her dead an hour later.
Next time you decide to try something new to get high, you might consider consulting with your pharmacist first.
12 February 2008
Corpopharm Complaint Conundrum
Tonight, right before the pharmacy closed, I got a call from a guy who was checking on the status of his prescription. The prescription required a PA (prior authorization) before his insurance company would pay for it. We contacted the doctor, and their office faxed us back saying that the patient hadn't been seen for over a year, and they would need an appointment before they would do any paperwork blah blah blah.
I explained to the patient that he would need to see his doctor before they would do the PA. He was not pleased.
Guy: Why was I not notified of this?
Me: Your doctor didn't get ahold of you?
Guy: No! Why didn't you call me?
Me: On issues like this, we expect the patient to maintain communication with us and your doctor. We don't have time to call people every time we fill a script or get a rejection from the doctor's office, or we would be on the phone all day.
The guy argued with me for another few minutes in various forms of 'you should have called me'. I replied to every accusation with the same form of 'get off your ass and get involved in your medication therapy'. Eventually, he asked the eventual...
Guy: What's your supervisors number?
Me: *sigh*. For complaints, call 1-800...
Let me tell you how complaints work at Corpopharm. When you ask for the pharmacy manager, you get me. Nine times out of ten, I don't give a shit about your complaint because the problem is yours, not mine. If you ask for my supervisor, I give you an 800 number for our corporate office where complaints are supposed to be filed.
When you call the 800 number, you get a phone drone at a call center who does not give a shit. The phone drone logs the complaint and forwards it to my boss, who does not give a shit. Unfortunately for my boss, she must act like she gives a shit. She writes up an email, attaching the formal complaint that the phone drone wrote up, and sends it back to me. Who does not give a shit.
Right after I got done dealing with this guy, a prototypical little old lady brought me a script from her doctor that cost $40,000 for 21 days worth. That's not a typo. Her copay was $4,000. 4 Gs. 4 large.
I asked her if her doctor had discussed this with her before she left her appointment. I already knew the answer.
Little Old Lady: No!!! How could medication cost so much?!?
Medical care at it's best, people.
I explained to the patient that he would need to see his doctor before they would do the PA. He was not pleased.
Guy: Why was I not notified of this?
Me: Your doctor didn't get ahold of you?
Guy: No! Why didn't you call me?
Me: On issues like this, we expect the patient to maintain communication with us and your doctor. We don't have time to call people every time we fill a script or get a rejection from the doctor's office, or we would be on the phone all day.
The guy argued with me for another few minutes in various forms of 'you should have called me'. I replied to every accusation with the same form of 'get off your ass and get involved in your medication therapy'. Eventually, he asked the eventual...
Guy: What's your supervisors number?
Me: *sigh*. For complaints, call 1-800...
Let me tell you how complaints work at Corpopharm. When you ask for the pharmacy manager, you get me. Nine times out of ten, I don't give a shit about your complaint because the problem is yours, not mine. If you ask for my supervisor, I give you an 800 number for our corporate office where complaints are supposed to be filed.
When you call the 800 number, you get a phone drone at a call center who does not give a shit. The phone drone logs the complaint and forwards it to my boss, who does not give a shit. Unfortunately for my boss, she must act like she gives a shit. She writes up an email, attaching the formal complaint that the phone drone wrote up, and sends it back to me. Who does not give a shit.
Right after I got done dealing with this guy, a prototypical little old lady brought me a script from her doctor that cost $40,000 for 21 days worth. That's not a typo. Her copay was $4,000. 4 Gs. 4 large.
I asked her if her doctor had discussed this with her before she left her appointment. I already knew the answer.
Little Old Lady: No!!! How could medication cost so much?!?
Medical care at it's best, people.
30 January 2008
Todays Highlights
One of my problem children pulled up to the drive through at 9:55. The pharmacy closes at 10. Problem child had a script to drop off. This person only comes to the drive through for a reason. Being a perpetual shoplifter, the manager banned them from the store. This person is such a shitty thief that they were caught multiple times by a guy who spends most of his time at work shooting the breeze with delivery men. They're so stupid that they think we don't know about this in the pharmacy. I haven't decided which is worse.
Problem Child: When will that be ready?
Me: I'm closing right now. You can come pick it up tomorrow.
Problem Child: What time do you open?
Another little piece of me died as I motioned to the sign hanging in the window that prominently displays the pharmacy's hours of operation. The script was for Vicodin (of course).
Me: We're open at 8 am.
Problem Child: Ok, we'll be back then!
I thought about telling them that by nighttime script fairy was currently in rehab as a result of dealing with the philistines all day, and the prescription would not be processed until the pharmacist returned at 8 am tomorrow morning. I decided to let nature take it's course instead.
______________________
Man: Where's your shoe polish?
A perfectly innocent question. It makes me want to salt the earth, burn the crops, and poison your children.
Me: I have absolutely no idea.
Most of the time I say something about 'find the manager' or 'ask the front store staff'. Instead I just returned to the 3 phone calls and 20 scripts waiting for me.
______________________
A girl dropped off a script from her doctor for Nuva Ring, a form of contraceptive. It's used intravaginally for 3 weeks, then taken out for 1 week. Wash, rinse, repeat. The instructions on the prescription from her doctor were to use 1 new ring every week. This is retarded. I called the doctor to inform them of this. Per usual, I got an answering machine at the doctor's office. I left a message letting them know that we'd need appropriate directions before filling the prescription. Normally, I would just fill the script with the correct instructions, but I wanted to see what their response would be. I was expecting something along the lines of 'oh, silly me, i was thinking of a different drug' or 'that new girl in the office got my instructions confused'. I got something entirely different.
Later on, I received a call on my voice mail for a new, vastly improved prescription for the girl's Nuva Ring. The directions were changed from 'use 1 ring weekly' to 'use as directed'. I almost hemorrhaged on the spot. I'm becoming more convinced by the day that doctors suddenly become cavemen once they touch the tip of a pen to a prescription pad.
Problem Child: When will that be ready?
Me: I'm closing right now. You can come pick it up tomorrow.
Problem Child: What time do you open?
Another little piece of me died as I motioned to the sign hanging in the window that prominently displays the pharmacy's hours of operation. The script was for Vicodin (of course).
Me: We're open at 8 am.
Problem Child: Ok, we'll be back then!
I thought about telling them that by nighttime script fairy was currently in rehab as a result of dealing with the philistines all day, and the prescription would not be processed until the pharmacist returned at 8 am tomorrow morning. I decided to let nature take it's course instead.
______________________
Man: Where's your shoe polish?
A perfectly innocent question. It makes me want to salt the earth, burn the crops, and poison your children.
Me: I have absolutely no idea.
Most of the time I say something about 'find the manager' or 'ask the front store staff'. Instead I just returned to the 3 phone calls and 20 scripts waiting for me.
______________________
A girl dropped off a script from her doctor for Nuva Ring, a form of contraceptive. It's used intravaginally for 3 weeks, then taken out for 1 week. Wash, rinse, repeat. The instructions on the prescription from her doctor were to use 1 new ring every week. This is retarded. I called the doctor to inform them of this. Per usual, I got an answering machine at the doctor's office. I left a message letting them know that we'd need appropriate directions before filling the prescription. Normally, I would just fill the script with the correct instructions, but I wanted to see what their response would be. I was expecting something along the lines of 'oh, silly me, i was thinking of a different drug' or 'that new girl in the office got my instructions confused'. I got something entirely different.
Later on, I received a call on my voice mail for a new, vastly improved prescription for the girl's Nuva Ring. The directions were changed from 'use 1 ring weekly' to 'use as directed'. I almost hemorrhaged on the spot. I'm becoming more convinced by the day that doctors suddenly become cavemen once they touch the tip of a pen to a prescription pad.
16 January 2008
Somnolent Success
I dispensed the the sleep medication Sonata this evening. It's pretty new, thus very expensive. I explained this to the man picking it up. I also explained that cheaper alternatives such as Ambien (which is now generic) are available and that he should talk to his doctor if he wanted something that wasn't so hard on the pocket book. When it's late and the pharmacy is slow, I have time to interact with people.
Man: Oh, no. I don't like Ambien. I'm a DUI attorney, and I know that people have problems with that medication. I have about 10 cases open right now that involve people getting in accidents after they've taken Ambien.
Insert your own joke.
Man: Oh, no. I don't like Ambien. I'm a DUI attorney, and I know that people have problems with that medication. I have about 10 cases open right now that involve people getting in accidents after they've taken Ambien.
Insert your own joke.
14 January 2008
Mr. McGoo
You can almost sense him coming before he's actually at the pharmacy. He carries with him an aura that you just don't feel on many people. I think it has something to do with the simple peace that you can feel emanating from simple people. Take away just the right amount of acumen from the average person and they wouldn't have a care in the world.
Mr. McGoo (that's what I call him) is about 6'2", heavyset, and not the quickest of cats at the best of times. He's usually wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that's a size or two too small (he favors Nascar shirts). Tattoos adorn his knuckles that are almost surely the product of basement artists done in wee morning hours. One on his neck appears to be done by a more professional hand and says Sacrifice. He used to have long, stringy hair that stuck out of his baseball hat that he opted to shave just as the air turned cold (an odd choice I thought). Mr. McGoo makes many odd choices, though, so I guess it's really not that odd at all.
On his last visit to the pharmacy, he presented a handful of prescriptions from his most recent visit to his psychiatric physician. It's always prudent to check his medication history before filling everything he brings as most of the time only a portion of the prescriptions are due to be filled. While waiting for his medication, Mr. McGoo sat himself at the blood pressure machine. He lives nearby the pharmacy, but every time he arrives he's short of breath and needs to sit down. After getting a reading, he gave me a number that was classified as Stage I hypertension (aka too high). I punched up his profile.
Me: Mr. McGoo, you haven't filled your blood pressure medication in months.
Mr. McGoo: Oh, yeah, I haven't been taking that. I ran out.
Mr. McGoo is almost always accompanied by his mother. She sat in a chair next to the blood pressure machine chuckling. I say chuckling because that's exactly what it sounds like. It's actually a tic. Mother McGoo doesn't get her medication filled at my pharmacy, but I'd hazard a guess that she takes some of the same psychotropic medications as her son. I can only assume that they live together and have the mutual responsibility of taking care of each other.
Concerning 'normal' people, nonadherence to their therapy does not bother me. I would be content to let most of my patient's blood pressures run high until their kidneys fail and aneurysms bloom in their brains. It wouldn't bother me because most people know better. Mr. McGoo does not, so I offered a helpful suggestion:
Me: Mr. McGoo, you blood pressure is too high because you haven't been taking your blood pressure medication. Don't you think we should get that filled?
Mr. McGoo: Oh, you're probably right Spiffy! Thanks!
When Mr. McGoo signs the pickup log, it takes him a good minute and a half, sometimes two depending on how many he's picking up. I'm not exaggerating. I'm willing to bet the people in line behind him wonder what the hell he's doing. I'm fine with that. I'd rather watch Mr. McGoo pen a thousand signatures than deal with most of the 'normal' people.
Mr. McGoo (that's what I call him) is about 6'2", heavyset, and not the quickest of cats at the best of times. He's usually wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that's a size or two too small (he favors Nascar shirts). Tattoos adorn his knuckles that are almost surely the product of basement artists done in wee morning hours. One on his neck appears to be done by a more professional hand and says Sacrifice. He used to have long, stringy hair that stuck out of his baseball hat that he opted to shave just as the air turned cold (an odd choice I thought). Mr. McGoo makes many odd choices, though, so I guess it's really not that odd at all.
On his last visit to the pharmacy, he presented a handful of prescriptions from his most recent visit to his psychiatric physician. It's always prudent to check his medication history before filling everything he brings as most of the time only a portion of the prescriptions are due to be filled. While waiting for his medication, Mr. McGoo sat himself at the blood pressure machine. He lives nearby the pharmacy, but every time he arrives he's short of breath and needs to sit down. After getting a reading, he gave me a number that was classified as Stage I hypertension (aka too high). I punched up his profile.
Me: Mr. McGoo, you haven't filled your blood pressure medication in months.
Mr. McGoo: Oh, yeah, I haven't been taking that. I ran out.
Mr. McGoo is almost always accompanied by his mother. She sat in a chair next to the blood pressure machine chuckling. I say chuckling because that's exactly what it sounds like. It's actually a tic. Mother McGoo doesn't get her medication filled at my pharmacy, but I'd hazard a guess that she takes some of the same psychotropic medications as her son. I can only assume that they live together and have the mutual responsibility of taking care of each other.
Concerning 'normal' people, nonadherence to their therapy does not bother me. I would be content to let most of my patient's blood pressures run high until their kidneys fail and aneurysms bloom in their brains. It wouldn't bother me because most people know better. Mr. McGoo does not, so I offered a helpful suggestion:
Me: Mr. McGoo, you blood pressure is too high because you haven't been taking your blood pressure medication. Don't you think we should get that filled?
Mr. McGoo: Oh, you're probably right Spiffy! Thanks!
When Mr. McGoo signs the pickup log, it takes him a good minute and a half, sometimes two depending on how many he's picking up. I'm not exaggerating. I'm willing to bet the people in line behind him wonder what the hell he's doing. I'm fine with that. I'd rather watch Mr. McGoo pen a thousand signatures than deal with most of the 'normal' people.
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