Tuesday, February 07, 2012

My Favorite Lamp.

I didn't think anything about giving him the ProAir inhaler really. Probably didn't even remember doing it 5 minutes after it happened. I knew the man's wife was bedridden and suffering from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease, and while it was a source of minor irritation that he had let his refills run out on a Friday night, he was a regular customer and a decent enough guy, and I knew he had his hands full taking care of the woman he married. No big deal really.

"Don't worry about it Bob, we'll just take off a refill when we get the prescription." And Bob was on his merry way. I do remember he said thank you, which is more than a lot of them do.

The next time he was in he asked me what my favorite color was.

I told him blue because I tend towards that color when making wardrobe choices. An ex-girlfriend told me once it was a good color for me and that was that. I didn't think anything about it really. Just said blue and filled his prescription for OxyContin. Or tried to. Goddamn prior auth. It was when we got the PA form back I said a little curse just in case there was a God. "Diagnosis" the doctor had scribbled at the bottom, "terminal liver cancer." Go straight to hell Jesus. Seriously. This guy was decent and hardworking and all he wanted to get out of his day was to be able to take care of his sick wife when there wasn't another soul to help them. Nice one there omnipotent master of the universe. Whatever you are you are not just. You crated an awful, ugly world where we all get by on the occasional scrap of joy and where none of our stories will end well. 

A couple weeks later there was a blue box on the pharmacy counter. "Bob left this for you" the manager said. Inside was a blue lamp from IKEA and a note:

"I just wanted to thank you for being such a help to my wife and I over the years. In particular, I'll never forget the weekend you let her have her inhaler when I was foolish enough to run out of her refills. It showed a level of professionalism and caring that I really appreciate. Maybe once I feel better we can go out to lunch. My treat."

I never thought about that inhaler, and I never really noticed Bob all that much. He was just one of the endless blur of people that whirl through my workday. But to Bob I was an integral part of his life. That is the power of our profession. The dosage of Bob's OxyContin was twice as strong as last time. There's not going to be any lunch.

I wrote this by the light of that blue lamp, and every time I turn it on I'll remember Bob's stand against the ugliness of life. How he spit in the eye of the darkness as it inevitably took him down. His futile struggle for decency.

I owe him that much.





31 comments:

Anonymous said...

Your best yet, bro!

rnraquel said...

You just never know when a small, nice gesture on your part will mean the world to someone else.

Anonymous said...

It is patients like Bob that enable me to get up every morning and deal with all the ungrateful people that terrorize the pharmacy.

Adrian W. said...

Amazing stuff, right there. It's incredible what working hard can do for you AND others.

kg said...

oh man. you should have warned us.

thanks.

ThatDeborahGirl said...

kg, stick around awhile

you can always tell when drugmonkey is about to rip your heart out and leave your co-workers wondering about your sanity when you sit sobbing at your desk

it's worth it every time tho

/damn

Candy said...

It's a beautiful lamp. Damn.

RxSlinger said...

That's what keeps us pharmacists going... Who remembers how many inhalers or favors we have done for our patients, but it's nice to be recognized once in a while. Let's pray for Bob.

Amy said...

Bless Bob and the other kind people out there who appreciate the little things. But for Bob what you did for him was big.

Anonymous said...

Isn't it always the little things that people so much appreciate! When you go way out of your way and spend hours to try and get something covered and then those people complain anyway cause you didn't do it fast enough or you didn't smile etc. Crazy world this is....nice story....good to remember that many things we do are appreciated and not everyone lets you know it.

TheDruggist said...

Great post and thank you, DrugMonkey. I am currently in pharmacy school and your posts always bring me such laughter as I unequivocally relate to the satirical truths you write in regards to our ever-changing and multifaceted profession. As I hold on, sometimes I think foolishly, to the hope that I will escape the inevitable grasp of a 30-40 year stint at a large retail pill mill, it is defining moments like this that remind me that the long hours I spend studying, learning, and preparing to gladly, willingly, and joyfully help a handful of patients like Bob and his dear wife will most certainly outweigh the rest of the ungrateful, cantankerous "customers" whom, so it seems, make it their duty to be as unreasonable as humanly possible. Rewarding moments such as this give me the drive and the courage to push through so that I, while it be for only one person, may have the opportunity to serve such a humble and deserving creature such as Bob.
Acta Non Verba

Vagabond Rx said...

There are so many kind people out there, and I had a couple of experiences very early in my career that helped me understand this.

I look for the kindness and turn away from the meanness and I am happier in my practice as a result.

Fortunately I practice in northern Canada, in a small city (~28,000), and I don't have to put up with so much of the corporate crap that you do. I am free to tell a drunk to come back when he's sober, or to walk away from someone who's being abusive. May this freedom come to you someday.

The little things we do can have such enormous repercussions for our patients. You did a good thing, and good came back to you.

Anonymous said...

A story that is both sad and beautiful. Thank you for sharing. Love your blog!

Anonymous said...

I hate seeing a grown man cry...I need to avoid the mirrors for a little while.

Adam said...

Dear drugmonkey,

While I'm sure you'll be back to bashing corporate pharmacy in due order. Nice swing on the curve ball with that awesome inspiration for tomorrow and the next days. Since D.0 implimented and with me working in a compounding pharmacy, my crosshair are on any plan related to Argus! Have a good day, with Bob my best, I shedded many tears on this post. I just hope is next script is not Roxanol.

Adam said...

On a personal note... dig up the article on the two CVS stores in Florida that got raided by the DEA!

Anonymous said...

beautiful lamp. Is that a mango or a piggy bank?

DrugMonkey, Master of Pharmacy said...

Anonymous 7:28,

It's a piggy bank. Had it ever since I can remember.

HD M0 1B said...

Very umbecoming for such a crusty old pharmacist such as myself to be teary-eyed behind the counter.

Thank you

C said...

F cancer man.

Thank you for caring.

woolywoman said...

only reason to keep doing what we do

Rebecca said...

I am seriously moved to tears by this. Thank you.

Anonymous said...

It's really dusty and onion-y in here.

That was beautiful. What a crappy raw deal for Bob and his wife, and through it all he went out of his way to let you know how much he'd appreciated your kindness.

Anonymous said...

i've been lurking - deal with it. but the blue lamp pushes me over the edge to admit it, you're a human being:) i'm a cancer patient, formerly a one pharmacy gal since 2004. prior to getting sick, i moved to a new apt as the assist mgr. trying to exist as a public trans person from toronto in teabagger texas, man jobs were tough to find even in 2004. back to the rx, they were a mom & pop, 1st floor in a professional bldg. i had shoulder surgery that went bad, and a 2nd try ruptured a neck disk and i became a pain patient. i lived in a naive fog thinking EVERYONE could get pain treated. never understood it was uncommon until 2009 when mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and i quit the job to be with her across town. took my pain rx to the local cvs and THEY REFUSED. went to moms and called the 800#, they sent me to 3 more CVS stores who were sadly "out". called my old rx and they said sure, come over. because they KNEW me. filled for mom and knew her. knew she was sick and i was caregiving. but when i left there with my pain med, i also left with their explanation that in texas "they" were cracking down. i'd already been with a pain specialist since 2005, who now had HIS OWN RX. reason he told me is MY reason, that patients cannot get scrips filled! last month while at my own doc's rx they tell me they are "out" of generic oxyC and medicaid only covers generic. i was "free" to PAY for name brand, WTF? i'm one of those food stamp bottom feeders, no $$ for rx. oxy is all that helps. i take 10mgs 2 or 3 a day, but apparently i'm a criminal because i also take soma. but it helps me exist. not "get high" but get through the day. i can get by without it, i take "breaks" to make sure. it just seems cruel & unusual to keep cannabis illegal in texas but allow drugs which label pain patients "addicts". mom died last year, she had to move to hospice to get her pain addressed. now i have cancer and my worst fear is i'll die in pain. wondering when i should go to hospice, but i go in and out of remission and don't want to give up. the big cancer hospital tells me to go to their "wellness" center and not get "addicted", but i've decided to stick with my meds & my private pain dr. you're an rx, can you explain ANYthing that is going on here in tejas? we are forced to use "pain" docs, pee in a cup, whisper in waiting rooms which meds work and which generics are best. recently my rx changed from one generic to another and the new one is SO WEAK i'm hurting. always afraid to rock the boat. still with the SAME pain doc since 2005! since i got thyroid cancer i can no longer take the injections which used to help so much. what do you think about the generic company, should i try and report them or just wait for stage 4 and go the hospice route?

Anonymous said...

Anon 8:42 - pharmacy jobs were easy to come by in Texas in 2004. I went to a job interview in TX around that time and they had already printed my nametag, hoping I would sign my name on the dotted line and go to work the next day. For all I know, they had my schedule pre-planned as well.

Cannabis - I want it to be a scheduled drug. Period. Dispensed via pharmacies, regulated like any other drug, insurance coverage as spotty as any other drug, but none of this crap about 'dispensaries' 'herbal apothecaries' and so on. States that have allowed this to go on without involving their State Boards of Pharmacy must have no respect for our profession, or the local State Boards are just too lazy to see where this is going.

@DrugMonkey. Love the lamp and the story. I got a rooster towel with a knitted handle and a porcelain thimble to my credit. Smaller stories, still tokens given in earnest.

Anonymous said...

I work in a hospital, not a pharmacy, and I've always wondered why it is that nice people get cancer. Some of the kindest people in this world die every day and some of them in front of my eyes. At least I have had the honor of knowing them and making the pain easier,I'm sure you feel the same

Allison said...

Good post. You made me tear up. You're lucky that your job is sometimes rewarding, not often, but sometimes you touch a life.

mojopharm said...

First time reader here, DrugMonkey. Primo stuff. I have had some incredibly touching experiences like this with patients too & even though they are definitely in the minority, it is thoughts of them...whether they are still with me or have passed away...that keep me going on those days when everyone's cranky, someone calls in sick, the computers go down, and every time I touch something I drop it on the floor. "High gravity days", I call them.

I've never subscribed to a blog before but you're a damn good writer about things that I can completely relate to, so you'll be my first. Thanks for the good read!

Oh, and I dig your piggy bank.

The Phrustrated Pharmacist said...

And this is why we stay with it. Moments like this used to make up for all the crap, but these moments are becoming few and far between.

But we do touch lives. So many times what we do improves the day and life of someone and we never know it. Our kindness and touch and actions start a ripple effect in these lives, and who knows where it ends, if it ever does...

That is the only thing that kicks my ass out of bed of a morning and what drags my ass into the store every day.

I so wish we could go back in time and keep the profession of pharmacy as it used to be. This is not the profession I trained for, or started working in so many years ago. Then, those moments happened multiple times a day and left you feeling like you had done wonderful things with your life.

Sigh.

The Phrustrated Pharmacist
tphrph.blogspot.com

Anonymous said...

I am glad I am alone right now. I just sobbed like a an old woman at her husband's funeral. That was a beautiful story. I am still tearing up.

Anonymous said...

You just made me cry. It's people like Bob that keep me from losing my mind every day at work. It's people like him that make being a pharmacist worthwhile. And it's people like him that make you realize how unfair life really is. Thanks for posting this.