A Small Window Into The Subconscious Mind Of The Drugmonkey, Part 2

In my dream Paris Hilton was dating one of my friends, so I got to talk to her every once in awhile in a non-sexual kind of way. She was telling me about her favorite kind of facial cleanser, and insisting that I recommend it to my customers at the store. I decided that if there was a chance Paris Hilton knew anything about any subject, it might be facial cleanser, so I decided to keep her words in mind.

I wonder if this is the first time "Paris Hilton" and "facial" have been used together to describe cleaning up a mess.

I was then instantly back in Ohio, in the yard of the house I lived in before I moved to California. I realized I was going to be late for work. I checked to see if a tree I planted 11 years ago was still there. The store only had my land line number, not my cell, so they weren't going to be able to call me when I didn't show up on time. I left for work on a lawn tractor going as fast as I could.

A policeman was waiting at a speed trap to pull me over, except he wasn't a real policeman. He was part of a TV reality show that was following his training, and I was to be his first traffic stop. There were prizes that were going to be awarded to me for taking part in the festivities. The prizes made it clear that they were fully expecting that the trainee's first ticketee was going to be a man.

Except I wasn't going to get any prizes. I decided I didn't have to stop since the guy wasn't a real cop. My intent was to just keep going until the state had the courtesy of sending an actual fully credentialed law enforcement officer after me. The last thing I saw were red and blue lights in the rear-view mirror of my old Honda Accord, which the lawn tractor had morphed into.

The lesson to take away from this: Don't mix melatonin with a giant martini, no matter how badly you want to sleep.

Yesterday I Found Out I Was The Pharmacist Who Saved Christmas

Rage Against The Machine told me my anger was a gift, but I never really believed it until today. I do remember being angry. I was angry because a certain rent-a-doc pulling a shift at the public health clinic had sent his patient to me with a prescription for Prevacid in hand.

Follow me here. Public health clinic = poor people. Not a hard connection to make, but one that seemed beyond the comprehension of the rent-a-doc. Those of you in the profession probably know where I'm going with this.

I pulled the woman aside. She didn't want to look me in the eye. I tried to speak to her but got only a soft spoken "no habla ingles"

I was mad. I wasn't gonna let this one go. I paged for the janitor to come to the pharmacy to act as a translator.

"Ma'am, this prescriton is very expensive...."

"señora, esta receta es muy caro"

"She says she'll pay, her husband's stomach really hurts." The janitor really looked kinda annoyed to be doing this. I didn't care. I wasn't letting this one go.

"Ask her if her husband has tried anything that didn't help" On the other side of the pharmacy a wrinkly white dude with a pinkish hue was giving my tech a hard time over why his prescription for Viagra was taking so long to fill.

After a few minutes of misunderstanding she showed me a bottle of store-brand Maalox that "wasn't working anymore."

Those of you in the profession know what I did next. Prevacid runs about $160 a month. A deductible to meet meant she was gonna pay full freight. I grabbed a box of $30 Prilosec from the antacid aisle and sent word through the translator for the woman's husband to take it regularly for a couple weeks.

This actually happened a long time ago. The main reason I remember it was because of how much of a dick the pinkish white man was being when I got back to the pharmacy. The pinkish white man came very close to being invited to never come back.

The little pink man burned the incident into my memory, but I got a reminder yesterday when I looked up and saw the woman standing in front of me with the janitor.

"She says you're a good doctor" The janitor said. "She bought her son's Christmas present with the money you saved her. "

Holy crap. Every once in a while you win one. 15 years of how much longer, why does it cost so much, where are the paper plates, pointless prior auths, and early narcotic refills, but every once in awhile me and the Miami Dolphins can win one.

Tomorrow I go back to being the health care equivalent of second string Miami Dolphins right guard Gene Mruczkowski, a well compensated, highly trained professional who had to work like hell for the right to become a doormat. I'll bet Gene has a thing for scotch.

None for me tonight though. Every once in awhile you win one.

Tonight I Bring You Evidence Of Odd Optical Side Effects From The Diabetes Drug Symlin

From the "Big Pharma propaganda I look through while trying to quickly stuff a tuna sandwhich down my face" file:




What the hell is up with this woman's eyes? At first I thought maybe they were trying to dress her up a bit like a football player, you know, because she says she's ready to FIGHT her type 1 diabetes. I attributed the fact that it looked like she was wearing red tape instead of eye black to the kind of thing that happens when you need to get a photo shoot done in a hurry. It was a slightly plausible theory that was blown completely out of the water then I turned the page and saw this:



WTF? Are they trying to say that users of Symlin have egg on their face? Because it totally looks like this guy's eyes have been done over-easy. I seriously don't get this, and can only suspect the diabolical influence of Hillary Clinton.

There is only one way to assure that in the future you will not be wearing eye pigments color-coordinated with the food you eat. Do not vote for Hillary Clinton in your state's Democratic primary or caucus. This country cannot afford the risk.

Today My Continuing Education Lesson Exposes Me To The Coolest Disease Name Ever.

TOXIC MEGACOLON! Holy Crap that is the best name for a disease. I defy you to come up with a better name for a disease.

Doctor: Drugmonkey, I'm afraid the news is bad. You have Toxic Megacolon.

Drugmonkey: Awesome! This definitely does not sound like some sort of wimpy pansy problem. It was always my greatest fear I would die of something with a girlie sounding name. In your face Lyme disease!

Doctor: Perhaps you'd like a referral to our psychiatric unit.

It would also be a great name for a band. Now touring with Ozzfest........TOXIC MEGACOLON! You know a band with that name would just have to rock.

Actually the main lesson taken away from today's continuing education was not to try to do continuing education while at lunch, or at least to not grab something at random off the unopened mail pile on your way to the back. Here's the cover from today's lesson:



The caption at the bottom left reads: "Image depicting constipation showing hard, dry brown stools in the colon"

That was my reward for trying to do something productive with the 30 friggin minutes I get to stuff some food in my face over the course of a 12 hour shift.

And people wonder why I'm so damn skinny.

From the March 9, 2005 edition of The Onion.

You May All Write In And Tell Me What A Wise Person I Am Now.

Why? Because back in November I wrote this:

ask yourself what Merck and Schering would be doing if they were looking at numbers that suggested Zetia and/or Vytorin were clearly lowering heart disease risk more than any other therapy. They'd have an ex-college cheerleader sales rep in every doctor's office in the country waving those numbers in front of their cleavage, that's what they'd be doing.

You see, Merck and Schering, far from deploying the cheerleader corps, was instead sitting on data from the Enhance trial, which had been completed over a year and a half ago. My point then was that this behavior, coupled with the fact that Merck and Schering tried to change the definition of what they were measuring, made me just a tad bit suspicious of what those numbers might say.

Today we have this:

Merck and Schering-Plough, which make the drug Zetia, and a pill that contains it, Vytorin, said Monday morning that Zetia had failed to benefit patients in a two-year trial that ended in April 2006.

In a press release, Merck and Schering said that not only did Zetia fail to slow the accumulation of fatty plaque in the arteries, it actually seemed to contribute to plaque formation — although by such a small amount that the finding could have been a result of chance.

Dr. Steven E. Nissen, the chairman of cardiology at the Cleveland Clinic, said the results were “shocking.”

Shocking to you maybe professor egghead, but not to the readers of this blog. I am the wisest person in the universe. Give me a damn medal to show the world how smart I am.

“In light of today’s results, which were released nearly two years after the Enhance trial ended, it is easy to conclude that Merck and Schering-Plough intentionally sought to delay the release of this data,” said Representative Bart Stupak, Democrat of Michigan,

Ya think?

It's not all negative though, Schering used this whole episode to provide us with a teachable moment:

Lee Davies, a spokesman for Schering, said the delay was unrelated to the negative findings and that the companies had not known the results until two weeks ago.

For those of you who don't know the sound of bullshit, Lee Davies just gave you a textbook example. Bookmark that quote when you need an example of bullshit.

In the meantime, I shall look forward to the praise, laurels, and accolades of my grateful readership. I shall assume that you will realize that I am right not only in matters pharmaceutical, but most other subjects as well, including politics. So I shall expect none of you will vote for Hillary Clinton in your state's Democratic primary or caucus.

Because to vote for Hillary in your state's primary or caucus would be to doubt my wisdom. Ask Merck and Schering what happens when you find yourself on the other side of my wisdom.

A Pause In The Political Process Provides A Good Opportunity To Share Highlights From Today's Pill Counting Action, But Hillary Clinton Still Sucks.

Actually I take that back, I'm pretty sure Hillary doesn't suck. That's how we ended up with that whole impeachment mess. But I digress, this post is about freaky customers, not about how much Hillary Clinton doesn't deserve the Democratic Party's nomination for president. Here we go:

First call of the day asked me what the date was. "NOT THE DAY OF THE WEEK....THE DATE!!!!" The woman said. "I'VE BEEN IN BED!!" She specifically asked to talk to the pharmacist for this.

I've learned what to do. "The 9th" I said, as if she were asking me a question related to her prescription medicine. Trust me young pharmacists, it's the best way to handle this type of situation.

The woman immediately hung up.

The best highlight ever though.....was yet to come.

A couple hours later a customer wanted to know if we sold DNA testing kits. "I need to know if I have any African blood in me" he said. "It's the first day of Kwanzaa."

Kwanzaa was last month. The customer looked as white as me. I am the whitest white boy in the history of whitedom. OK you young pharmacists out there...tell me how to handle this.....

If you said "tell the customer we do not sell DNA tests......and let those be the ONLY words out of your mouth" you win a prize. Under no circumstances are you to say anything other than "I'm sorry sir, we don't sell DNA tests" Nothing good will come of any other words. Don't ask. Don't tell.

The best highlight was still to come though......hang with me.....

Mid afternoon brings a message on the voice mail

"Hi, this is Joe Dumbass, and my doctor was going to call in a prescription for me. When he does, I need you to call me and tell me how to pick it up" He wasn't asking me to tell him when it was ready. He actually wanted to know how to pick it up.

I have worked in both the ghettoest of ghettos and in some of the most affluent neighborhoods on the planet, and I can tell you that not one time has a poor person ever asked me how to pick up a prescription. You have no idea how glad I am I wasn't born rich.

A customer gave me $40 cash for a $60 prescription and wanted to put the $20 balance on her debit card. As part of the debit transaction, she asked for $10 cash back. Pop quiz for young pharmacists.....what do you do?

Answer: Give her the $10 back. Do not ask any questions.

An hour before closing the ultimate asshole comes to the counter.

"YOU NEED TO CALL MY DOCTOR RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!" shouted the ultimate asshole from across the pharmacy. Another sign I was in the land of affluence. The doctors office was closed, but the customer was not the type of person who hears "no" often, if at all. I was to call his doctor right now.

Me: "I don't think your VIAGRA qualifies as an emergency sir. I'm not going to interrupt your doctor for a VIAGRA prescription." It was shouted back at an equal volume as his demand was shouted at me, with a little extra emphasis on the word VIAGRA. The waiting room was crowded. My voice has a way of carrying. People snickered. The smirk on my face communicated to the customer I knew exactly what I was doing. The customer learned the value of politeness when dealing with a pharmacist. He slithered away.

And that my friends......was the ultimate fucking highlight of my day. Don't vote for Hillary.

The State Motto Of New Hampshire Is "Live Free Or Die." After Yesterday's Primary I'd Prefer They Do The Latter

Hillary Clinton says she's been an agent of change for over 35 years. Am I the only person who sees the irony of that? Hillary says she's been working for change since before I learned you didn't have to poop in a diaper. And now I feel old.

I feel old sometimes because I see things. Stupid things. Things that need change. I see homeless dudes when I look out the drive through window every time I pull a shift in the ghetto. They're picking through the store's trash, and that needs to change. I see addicts come in the store trying to tell me they're diabetic so they can score some needles and maybe not die of AIDS. That needs to change. I don't want to imply Hillary Clinton has been totally ineffective at changing things though. Today I saw a man the age of my nephew who was a missing a leg. He left it in Iraq as a result of a policy change Hillary Clinton was instrumental in making happen. I felt old when I saw the one legged young man. Old and tired and a little hopeless.

This is what happens when you limit yourself to what you judge to be possible. Those dudes will always be homeless. AIDS will always be with us. Nothing you can do, so I'll just put an earmark in the budget for a half-ass homeless shelter and claim a great victory so I can get elected again. Four years from now I'll do the same thing. Hillary Rodham understood how abandoning hope to the pragmatic thoughts of the possible could be toxic. The year I was born she chided the commencement speaker at her college graduation:

“For too long our leaders have used politics as the art of the possible,” she said that day. Maybe that was the day Hillary claims she became an agent for change.

Somewhere in the three and a half decades since, Hillary Rodham became Hillary Rodham Clinton became Hillary Clinton. And after "35 years of working for change" she said on Sunday when asked what she had to show for it was that she added a few more kids to the ranks of the insured. She also chides her main opponent these days for offering "false hopes."

There's no such thing as false hope. Hillary Rodham knew that.

You don't dream big anymore Hillary. You don't hope anymore and I'm tired of being hopeless. I'm tired of feeling old.

Next up are my neighbors in Nevada. I know you want to hope as well. I know you want a goal of what is right.....not what is "possible." Let me know if you need a ride to the caucus.

You Suppose There's A Little Tension In The Clinton Household These Days?

The scene, inside an airplane somewhere between Iowa and New Hampshire last Thursday night, the laughter of Bill Clinton as he chats with a campaign aide is heard above the sound of jet engines:

Bill Clinton: "......oh man...what a week. I almost forgot how much I liked the mayor of Davenport. It was good to reconnect.....kinda wish I had made him Secretary of Agriculture now like I promised I was going to. Lots of good memories...." He knocks back the last of a scotch and soda.

Campaign Aide: "Remember when we went through.....where was it? Des Moines or Cedar Rapids? At that rally in '96 and a chick lifted her shirt and had "Bob Dole can suck these" written across her boobs? That's about all Mr. Viagra could have done with that woman."

Bill and the campaign aide again burst out in inappropriately loud drunken laughter. The rest of the plane is deathly silent. Hillary Clinton stares out of the window and snaps a pen in half.

Bill walks to the back of the plane and returns minutes later with two handfuls of food and drink. After settling into his seat he looks over at Hillary .....

"Doughnut?" He asks.

Hillary lunges across the aisle and grabs Bill by the testicles.

"I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DO NOT SHUT UP RIGHT NOW YOU WILL NEVER USE THESE AGAIN!!!!!!"

The tensest of all silences now engulfs the cabin. Hillary releases her death grip after about 30 seconds. Bill finishes his doughnuts and rises once again from his seat.

"We'll see how they get used" he mutters under his breath. He casually makes his way to the room where the stewardess is preparing coffee. They share a sly smile. Bill closes the door behind them.

Disclaimer: None of this actually happened. I'm just poking some fun at Hillary because she voted for the war and I hope she loses again on Tuesday.

You know what to do New Hampshire.

Tonight The State Of Iowa And I Will Have The Best Make Up Sex Ever

Hi Hillary,

How does it feel? What goes around comes around......tell me how it feels.

Actually you don't have to tell me. I know. I've known since October 10th, 2002. You know what I'm talking about. That was the day you looked us in the eye, the people who knew, the people who were out on the streets raging against the lies of George W. Bush, taking all the vitriol and hate and venom that Joe Dumbass Sixpack could throw our way, and you told us to fuck off. I've never had much hope for Joe Dumbass Sixpack, but at one time I had hope for you.

"Where else you gonna go?" you figuratively said as you cast your vote for death. "What are you gonna do....., vote for a Republican? You've got nowhere to go and I need the mushy middle far more than I need you losers."

Then you kicked us in the teeth.

The thing is..... you knew too. You're not stupid. You knew the war was for nothing. You saw George Bush for what he was. You could have led and stood and fought for the most important things that are worth fighting for. Instead you calculated.....and projected......and concluded that the best way back to the White House was to pretend to believe the lies.

You thought we'd forget, even though I said at the time I never would. I've been sharpening my boot for over 5 years now to deliver your kick back. Tonight you got it. May you get a few more.

Tell me how it feels.

Another Reason Every Chain Pharmacy In This Country Is Woefully Understaffed

"Hello Drugmonkey?" It was my District Pharmacy Manager. I was expecting the call. Actually I had been expecting the call for so long I had forgot I was still expecting it.

"What's up bossman?" The DM really isn't a bad guy. I think he's younger than me, which probably represents some sort of milestone in my life.

"I got a complaint from a customer.....I........"

"I'll bet I know exactly who it is"

"Wanna give me your side of the story?"

"Sure. Addict forged a Vicodin prescription and I told him to never come back. Guy threw a fit and wanted your e-mail address. "

"Are we talking about the same person?"

"What, did he give you some sob story about me refusing to give him his blood pressure medicine and him ending up in the hospital?"

Silence on the other end of the line. I could hear my boss' confusion in the nothingness.

"So remember last time you were in the store, and we talked about how we were both Seinfeld fans?"

"Yes........." the confusion was now turbocharged. If I had a regular job I may have been fired by now.

Do you remember the name George used whenever he needed to lie about something?

"No"

"Art Vandelay"

"DAMMIT DRUGMONKEY!!!!" The words "Art Vandelay" cleared up all confusion. Because, you see, Art Vandelay had filed the complaint. Or someone using the name Art Vandelay. That someone would be me. For those of you a little dimmer than average, I filed the complaint against myself for fun.

It's been a crappy couple weeks, for reasons both professional and personal. I got my boss to use a swear word though, which tells me I really don't need friends. I do a pretty good job of cheering my own damn self up sometimes.