Professionals? HAHA

There are two types of professionals out there:
1. Professionals that get treated like professionals
2.Professionals that get treated like shit.

Now...what do you think Pharmacists fall under?

Pharmacy schools try brainwash their students into thinking that Pharmacists are an integral part of the health care network, that they are the last line of therapy to the patients (the gatekeeper, the guardian), the drug experts, blah blah blah. I'm not downing my own future profession (if that's what you want to call it), and I'm sure all of that is true but until everyone else realizes that it means nothing. I've treated my plumber and electrician better than the majority of the patients treat pharmacists. To what other health care provider can you curse and basically spit on if your insurance plan expired or if you waited more than 24.5seconds? I am waiting for the day when I am sitting in the waiting room at my doc's office when someone else just throws their hands up in the air and starts yelling for the doctor to see him right now and then mock his work and knowledge in front of everyone! Sorry APhA, no amount of code of ethics and professional workshops will change the mind of the masses...goodbye to the respect we deserve and hello to my daily dose of scotch on the rocks and liver failure.

--IISboy..wow reading this over again makes me want to self-prescribe some prozac, o well..


. . .



-IISboy again....happy now that I'm imagining my six-figure net pay :)

More Stupid Patients....

Hey everyone, I know it's been a while since we updated this and we apologize. Aside from the amount of studying we put in, the hours we intern, and the time it takes from recovering from acute liver toxicity we really couldn't find time to rant about anything.
I feel that I have become so accustomed to the ridiculous nature of Pharmacy Practice that nothing really surprises me enough to find it worthy to share. But throughout this past summer there have been some minor occurrences that made me realize people are genuinely retarded...here's one

(background: my pharmacy does not carry morphine and morphine related substances)

A woman comes to the drop off/input window carrying a crying infant and hands me a script. While I am looking at it, she asks me where are the breast pumps. Before answering her, I realized it was a script for oxycodone 5mg TID #60. I told her we don't carry it and she was very agitated but asked me again for the item, I pointed her to the right direction and asked her if the script was for her, and she said yes. I warned her that if she is breast feeding the drugs can possibly pass through the milk at that dose but she obviously didn't care and was getting an attitude. I offered to call the doctor and have him change the medication to something safer for her and the child but at that point she was yelling at me, so I took my red pen/sharpie and wrote on the back- patient is breast feeding...call doctor. Bye.

School's out for the summah!

Hey everyone,

Class ended a few days ago, so that means IISBoy and I are back after a stressful semester full of pharmacotherapy fun! I've got some stories to share, but right now I'm going to Hulu it up, and get caught up on all the episodes of House I missed this season.

I also need a nap and some Ibuprofen as I am trying to kick the mean caffeine addiction I develop every semester, and am going cold-turkey. Damn I could use a Mountain Dew...

Meanwhile, I am pretty much up to my ears in Tamiflu at work. Apparently the swine flu is serious business because the corporate powers that be saw fit to send dozens of boxes of it in our last warehouse order. (Unfortunately they didn't send us any of the Zocor or Vicodin we ordered, so this will be a fun week of out-of-stocks!) Anyway, I already received a few scripts from a few people "stocking up." These people are probably going to begin taking their Tamiflu in a panic next week when their seasonal allergies start acting up, and there goes $90 of medication.

--IISgirl ... I will probably have the swine flu for real next week, with many thanks to my patients who sneeze, cough, and otherwise excrete and secrete upon me on a daily basis

We SHALL return...but just not NOW

<>

We WILL return with a bag full of stories to share...be patient please!

Thanks for keeping up with IIS and requesting for more rants!

--IISBoy- trying to stay alive for the remainder of the school year!

Christmas stories?!

What do you want first, the touching story or the disgusting one? Because they both happened on the same day.

I guess I'll start off with the emotional tear-jerker...

Today I was helping an old woman who was picking up her prescriptions and a few other items such as bread, milk, a few other basic things, and a hershey bar she said was for her grandchild. She was having a hard time affording her prescriptions and was counting down to nickels and pennies trying to come up with enough. Finally she said she didn't have enough and asked me to take off everything except for the prescriptions. Then she asked me, "Which do you think I can't live without?"

Meanwhile, my coworker was helping a young woman who was picking up a script for herself, as well as a basketful of holiday candy, makeup, and other things. The young woman was watching the old woman count out her change and finally told my coworker, "Nevermind, all I need is the prescription right now."

She then took the $50 she was going to spend on other items, gave it to the old woman, said "Merry Christmas, you need this more than I do," and the old woman started crying.

Just when a day full of ungrateful, rude assholes nearly destroyed my last remaining shred of faith in humanity...

It's so heartwarming I could puke.

-------

Ok! Now let's rewind to the beginning of the day for a story that makes me puke for an entirely different reason.

I was the first of the day shift to come in the morning. The midnighter was chilling at the back counter. I glanced at the manager's office, which is the back of the waiting area, on my way in. I saw a big pile of ad papers strewn about the middle of the waiting area so I make a note to tell one of the front store people the next time I see them.

Our poor manager was on her way in for the day, apparently she was picking up the ad papers on the way to her office, and I hear something like a muffled scream, so I come out to check on her, and was in no way prepared for what came next.

THERE WAS HUMAN FECES UNDERNEATH THE AD PAPERS.

SOMEONE SHIT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WAITING AREA.

AND APPARENTLY NONE OF THE MIDNIGHT SHIFT NOTICED.

So the manager says, "Fuck this! I'm not starting off this shift like this!" And she throws some extra floor tiles down on top of the poop, and called maintenance to get the floor cleaners out to do it. I heard her yelling into the phone, "I don't care if it's Christmas Eve! There's crap all over the floor and the smell is wafting into my office!! Send someone out!"

As I was leaving work today she was in the process of reviewing security tapes to try identify the mysterious Christmas Eve Pooper. I'm dying to know who it is, and how this came to be. I'm suspecting that at least one of the midnight shift knew about the poop but none of them wanted to do anything about it, so they are all denying knowledge of the turd's existence. Anyway, the surveillance tape will tell the truth.

God I hope she puts it up on youtube.

--IISgirl ... Merry Christmas to all!

Never fear, a student pharmacist is here!

So, many of you may be asking, “IISgirl, where have you been for the past 2 months?”

Well, my answer to you is simple: I’ve been studying therapeutics and saving the lives of little old ladies!

Saving old ladies?! Let me elaborate.

Well, there I was at the coffee shop, feeding my caffeine addiction and studying therapeutics. A fairly boring Sunday afternoon. I glanced up from a particularly enthralling chapter of DiPiro just in time to see a frail old woman fall out of her wheelchair and hit her head on the pavement on the other side of the parking lot.

If I remember correctly, "Oh shit," was my sentiment at the time.

I went running outside. It took me long enough to get across the parking lot to see 4 or 5 other people walking right by this woman who laying on the ground, not even giving her a second glance. I was enraged that these assholes were too engrossed in their cell phones and cups of coffee to give a damn about another human being who was hurt.

The woman was about 80 years old. She had an equally old and frail friend with her who was trying to help her. There was a bleeding gash on her forehead, but she was fairly alert and cognitive. As I was talking to her and checking her out, another person who wasn’t an asshole came over to see if we needed help. I sent him back into the coffee shop for ice and napkins and wrapped her in my jacket.

Now, it turns out the lady was on warfarin, so she was quite the bleeder. Finally the bleeding was under control and I put ice on it. I checked her pupil size—did the whole PERRLA/EOMI exam that I thought I’d never use—to check for signs of a concussion. Things looked ok.

The guy who came over helped me lift the lady into the car and pack up her wheelchair, her very worked up friend said she would drive her to the ER, and my work there was done.

The lady was such a sweetheart. I hope she’s ok. I’m sure she is, she was quite the trooper.

It felt weird, operating solo, making the decisions and having a real patient. Between me and the guy who came to help, I was the one with the healthcare background, so he and the two old ladies were looking at me for direction. It was a relatively minor and simple situation, but I felt so accomplished being able to help that woman. I feel like I really made a difference!

All in a day’s work for a student pharmacist. :)

-IISgirl… to the rescue!

Party Like Your Grandma!

So today was an excellent day to work.
1. First weekend of the month
2. Beginning of the cold season
3. Allergies
4. Herpes.

Yes. Herpes. Apparently October is the 'spread your warts to your lovers' month. Today we had an outstanding number of scripts for herpes related creams/gels and pills. The greatest (and sickest) one came in a little after 12 noon. A young man comes in with a 2 scripts, one for an older man and one for an older woman. The man was asked for identification and I realized he was not related to either of these patients, so I asked about his affiliation to the couple who is getting their herpes gel and valtrex prescription filled. He apparently is an associate of a local Nursing Community and he was telling me how there is a 'herpes outbreak' amongst the residents.

I guess everyone wants to stay warm as the weather is getting cooler. Party on grandma and grandpa.


Alright everyone, stay safe from the contagious flu and herpes!

-IIS....feeling a strange itch after shaking so many people's hands today

Mispronounced Drug Names

I think I am going to start chronicling all the entertaining mispronunciations I hear from patients.

Today's winner is Metmorfin. It's a simple transposition of letters, but I couldn't help but giggle and think of the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers... perhaps, Power Rangers: The Later (And Diabetic) Years.

--IISgirl ... go go power rangers!

Haha. That's great IISGirl. What a coincidence, we had some tongue tied patients today as well and one lady called in for her simwatistatin and her husband's meteorprolololol.

--IISBoy...lolololol'ing all the way home.

My life is full of these embarassing little moments!

So I don't have a huge update. Basically, tonight at work I dropped the entire top drawer from the narcotics safe while trying to reach the last box of Fentanyl 25mcg patches, spilling Fentanyl patches everywhere. In all the excitement, I ripped the crotch seam in my $70 pants from Express.

Now, as a grad student, I can afford to buy $70 pants, hmm, about once every 3 years. So naturally I swore up a storm. To make matters worse, my lab coat is missing its bottom-most button, making it impossible for me to cover up my lime green underwear so easily. It was all totally visible and highly embarrassing, letmetellyou!

It figures. Pants-ripping-day ends up being the same day as ostentatious-underwear-day. But, hey, I'm sick of white coats and button-down shirts, I gotta express myself somehow. I hid behind the production counter for a while, but eventually decided it would be more prudent to attempt to duct-tape the seam back together. It didn't work that well. Eventually I convinced my pharmacist to let me leave work half an hour early due to my wardrobe malfunction, and also because we finally got our queue under control and I mentioned that I needed to study (oddly enough she believed that).

Oh yeah, and my district manager was there on a visit at the time and saw the entire incident unfold, including my vulgar and lengthy recitation of common, uncommon, and invented swear words.

And did I mention it was crazy busy during the hour of the pants-ripping? I shouldn't have to--it's the day after a holiday, of course things are going to be out of hand.

Now that I've shared these personal and embarrassing details of the night my coworkers won't let me forget, I could rant about pharmacy school. But honestly, you might have to re-name me Apathetic Intern Girl, because I'm going to need some Alprazolam and Omeprazole if I let myself get any more worked up over the many ways my college has managed to screw me over in the few days since classes started. So I'll just do my stomach ulcer a favor, let it slide tonight and keep counting down the days. :)

--IISgirl ... graceless. Entirely graceless.

How IISBoy and IISGirl Met...

Hey everyone,
It seems IISGirl and I are on a blogging spree. I guess everything has been building up from the summer and the immense boredom we're experiencing in class is forcing us to do something a little bit more exciting (entertaining you guys!)

Well here is something non-pharmacy related. I guess some of you want to know a little bit more about me and my partner and I think you all have earned it. But instead of telling you, here is a small video clip about basically how we met. It happened kinda like this:




And that's how the IrritableInterns came into existence!

:)
Have fun everyone and don't forget to add some comments!! We would love to hear your thoughts.

--IISBoy...who is waiting for a check from MARS for the excellent product placement

Befriending cops FTW.

So there's a police officer who I've been helping extensively over the past week with some insurance issues, and a thing here or there with his doctor. We'll call him Officer Jones. He's gotten about the best customer service I have to offer, which is pretty damn excellent, if I may say so myself. Prompt, courteous, pleasant, knowledgeable, charming, the whole thing. Almost everyone gets pretty good customer service from me, but if I like you, then you get my best material.

Anyway he came back last night before he started his shift to drop off some scripts for his daughter and to see if I'd sorted out his wife's insurance--which I did. As he's waiting in line to talk to me, the patient I'm helping is being a real asshole, trying to bully me, swearing, the works.

He started flipping out saying that I lost his Xanax script, which is bullshit, and perhaps if he wasn't in such a drug-induced stupor, he would have realized this. Eventually he looks in his pocket and lo and behold, there's the script he was accusing me of stealing. He stormed off without an apology, of course.

Officer Jones, next in line, hands me a few scripts and then says, "Well I'll be damned. One of our frequent fliers. Was he giving you trouble?"

I said, "Well, yeah he was being incredibly rude."

"Then excuse me for a second," he says and he walks over to where the guy is standing, shifty eyed.

"Johnny!" says officer Jones, grabbing him by his arm. "I haven't seen you in a few weeks, what have you been up to? I hope I don't have to tell your parole officer any bad news!" He guides Johnny to the corner where they chat for a while. Johnny shifted uncomfortably and seemed to really need a Xanax or two about then.

Officer Jones comes back a few minutes later and tells me, chuckling a bit, "He won't be causing any problems here anymore. By the way, you've been taking good care of me and my family. If you ever need anything, just call and ask for me. I patrol this area. I'm going to make sure to swing by here every now and then during my shift."

Woo-hoo! Drug Depot isn't being robbed tonight!

I wish he could stick around and deal with every rude junkie that comes in.

The moral of the story is: be nice to cops. :)

--IISgirl ... back to school

Drive-Thru dummy

Since we moved to our new location in January, not many of our customers have utilized our drive-thru system (thank god!). I am guessing that because the drive-thru works through tubes and monitors it is far too advanced for many of our brainiac patients to comprehend. However, in the past few months that I have worked full time, the number of idiots tinkering with that godforsaken contraption has gone up considerably from none to about 3 a week. That probably doesn't sound like a lot but these customers are so terribly idiotic, it takes about 15 min for them to get their medicine, pay, and go away.

One guy who used our system looked like a big, important business man. Driving up in his Benz and sporting an incredibly expensive business suit, one would think this man would have some common sense. Ahhh..but once again my confidence in the human intelligence has failed me. He was impatient and could not wait for the container to send the money so he thew his credit card into the pneumatic tube system and pressed 'send'. His credit card flew up the tube and got stuck half way! Long story short...he ended up coming into the pharmacy, yelling and screaming. Fortunately with a push of the container and a little help from gravity his shiny black American Express card can go back home into his Gucci wallet.

One other user would come out of the car and stick her eye into the camera lens on the monitor as if it was a door that I was hiding behind. Of course she would refuse to come the 50 feet into the building toward the pharmacy and would yell at the camera for her Vicodin. After telling her that her insurance won't pay for it until after 3 days, she would stampede around her car and scream. Two days later she came again, stepped out of the car into the sweltering 90 degree weather and once again demand for her pain pills. I reminded her about her insurance and told her it won't be covered until the next day. Again she let out a scream but this time she kicked the side of the tube system (probably hurting her foot and causing more need of the vicodin), sat back into her 1980-something bonneville then slammed her door shut and raced off my screen.

The same situation happened again the following month.

I am thinking that a DVR should be installed and attached to the cameras so moments like these can be recorded and posted on YouTube for all of the world and laugh at this lady's crazy shenanigans.

By the way...school starts this week. :( Bummer.
Goodluck to everyone with their classes. And congrats to the upcoming P1s!

I know we have been kind of lazy with the postings; but I assure you that because IISGirl and I are back in the classroom, we'll have the time to update and keep up with the blog!

Brain Medicine!

I think a zombie came into Drug Depot today.

In a rare lull of activity, our pharmacist and our techs disappeared to the bathroom, the candy aisle, and who knows where else, leaving me all by my lonesome in the pharmacy.

While I was sitting and staring off down aisle 4, a tall man wearing a motorcycle helmet, a taped up pair of sunglasses, flip-flops, red sweat pants and a rain coat (it was sunny and about 90 degrees outside) was making a beeline toward the pharmacy... right up to the pharmacy gate.

My first thoughts upon seeing him were, This is not a normal human being. His gait was an irregular, jerky stagger, right out of a George Romero film, and his right hand never left his coat pocket.

Our gate doesn't lock. Really, it's just a swinging door. The zombie was pushing on it, about to invade.

Ah, shit.

"Can I help you?" I ask, keeping the production counter between the zombie and I. His right hand is still gripping something large in the pocket of his rain coat. I get a distinct sense of déjà vu. The last time someone staggered up to me and I couldn't see his hands, I had a gun in my face a few seconds later. You don't forget a thing like that. I make a mental note of his features for the police report I will hopefully be alive to make later on.

"I NEED BRAIN MEDICINE."

Yes, you surely do, I think to myself.

The zombie pushes the door open. His right hand moves in his pocket. I'm getting scared.

"Sir, you can't enter the pharmacy!" I say.

"BRAIN MEDICINE!"

The door swings back and hits him in the kneecaps, but he doesn't move or anything.

Um. I pick up the phone and try to decide whether or not I should page The Law back from the bathroom to help me out, or if I should call the police. Maybe he just needs his Seroquel refilled or something. Although I don't recognize him as one of our patients, and you'd think I'd remember someone like that. I decide I should page The Law, and meanwhile try to figure out what this so-called Brain Medicine is.

Before I get a chance to do so, the zombie staggers away just as mysteriously as he appeared, back down aisle 4. I'm not sure what became of him.

--IISgirl ... I need a day off!

hehe.

Victory! Sweet victory!

One of my arch-nemeses from high school dropped off some very embarrassing prescriptions today.

Unfortunately, HIPAA prevents me from reveling (and revealing) too much.

I'm trying not to be too vindictive, but this person went above and beyond to make my high school years miserable, so I deserve a little chuckle at their expense.

So, itch away my friend. Feel the burn. : )

--IISgirl ... today was a true test of maintaining my professional demeanor. I passed!

Grr.

Drug Depot does NOT have a public restroom. So whenever anyone wants to use it, they have to go find someone at the front counter, threaten to shit the floor, and then they'll open the staff restroom.

Tonight I spent a good 30 minutes working on an insurance claim, and by the time I finally got a chance to talk to a human being at the help desk, my back teeth were floating. I finally got off the phone with Medco and made a mad dash to the bathroom, only to see a huge (I'm talking 400+ lbs here) woman come waddling out, a smug look on her face.

My face looked like this:

D-:

Knowing I would not get another chance to pee for the rest of the night, I did not turn back. I took my chances. I cracked the door open and only to find that the entire bathroom reeked of week old piss and B.O. I slammed the door shut.

No kidding, my eyes started watering. I grabbed the Lysol, cracked the door just wide enough to get my arm in, and started spraying.

DAMMIT!

The can was empty!

Desperate, I cracked open the men's bathroom to check the situation there, but things there weren't much better

I ran to aisle 12 and grabbed more Lysol and emptied half the can into the women's bathroom, but dammit, now it just smelled like lemons and B.O.

I tried to just hold my breath and hurry up. I couldn't get out of there quickly enough.

To top things off, I'm asthmatic, and the oxygen had pretty much been displaced from the room by the Lysol, and I came back out wheezing. Being the noncompliant asthmatic that I am, I hadn't bothered to refill my inhalers this month, and had to huff and puff my way back to the pharmacy to get those, too.

I hate it when they let customers use our bathroom!

Dammit I can't wait to leave the retail world, not only are we overworked, not only do we not get breaks, but christ, even the privacy, the dignity, the cleanliness of the bathroom is compromised, and that's just not right!

--IISgirl ... go use McDonald's bathroom next time!!

It was kind of a slow evening.

So there I was at Drug Depot, typing the following prescription:

Lamisil 1% cream
Apply to a.a. BID as directed x 1 week
#1 tube

Now, at Drug Depot, Terbinafine cream comes in a box that either says "Athlete's Foot Relief" or "Jock Itch Relief." I was standing in the OTC aisle, wondering to what "affected area" the patient was applying said cream, and which box I should select.

It wasn't a hard choice, really--of course I was going to give them the Jock Itch box, just for comedic value.

Jock Itch Relief box in hand, I went back to my computer to finish typing the prescription. Squinting to figure out the doctor's name, I suddenly burst out laughing, because it was incredibly apropos, almost as apropos as an orthopedic surgeon having the last name of Bones.

Let's just say this doctor's last name combined two words that quite literally mean pruritus of the genitalia, but in slightly cruder language. Oh the irony, Dr. Pruritisofthegenitalia prescribing medication to treat the very condition for which he is named!

Maybe I'm immature, but I thought it was funny.

Oh yeah some chick with MRSA came in tonight, too. It was kind of her to tell me what the big nasty sore on her forearm was from. I spent about 5 minutes dousing my hands with soap and rubbing alcohol after we got her out of the pharmacy and I had dropped a big nuclear bomb of bleach on the counter. Honestly I think I might have a bit of mysophobia. And to be honest that is really quite problematic for someone who deals with sick people all day.

--IISgirl ... MUST. WASH. HANDS.

1-2 shots, q half hour, prn a good time

Ahh, it has been a good weekend, from what I recall from it.

I went out drinking with the Drug Depot crew (what I formerly called Major Chain Pharmacy, but I like this name better) one of the nights, with entertaining results. The Law came out to the bar with a few of the techs and the other intern and I. Surprisingly enough, actually maybe unsurprisingly, The Law is a pretty heavy drinker. Anyway most of the night was on him. We just had to buy the first rounds, or egg him on, then when we got him trashed enough, he felt generous and bought the rest. He came up to me with a napkin that said, "Take 1-2 shots, q half hour prn a good time," and I don't know how many times I heard, "the doctor has authorized your refill!" When we ordered expensive drinks, The Law would laugh and say, "that's gonna need a prior auth!" My god pharmacy humor is so entertaining when you're drunk.

Maybe this was evil of me, but in his drunken state I also got him to agree in writing to buying us breakfast the next morning (Why did the entire 9am shift go out the night before? This was bad planning on our part.) and let me leave early later this week. The Law had a terrible hangover the next morning, but other than that, things weren't too bad the next day.

Today it was so slow, so I spent a couple hours playing poker with the tech.

The highlight of the day was a deaf old lady calling in and asking for "something over the counter like ex-lax." Apparently she had already spoken to the pharmacist, told the pharmacist she didn't know anything, hung up, called back a few minutes later, and got me.

I tried to clarify with her what she wanted. "So you're constipated?"
"Yes."
"Ok..."
"I need something to help me pee!"
"Then you don't need Ex-lax."
"Yes I do!"
"Do you want to pee or poop?!"
"Yes."
"What?"
"I said I want ex-lax!"
"Ex-lax is for bowel movements."
"WHAT?! SPEAK UP!"
"EX-LAX IS FOR POOPING!!!"
"I don't need to poop! I can't pee! I need *mumbles something that sounds like Lasix.*
"YOU WANT LASIX?! THAT'S NOT OVER THE COUNTER!"
"YES IT IS! I'VE BOUGHT IT BEFORE!"
"DO YOU HAVE A PRESCRIPTION? WHAT'S YOUR LAST NAME, I'LL CHECK OUR RECORDS!"
"I DON'T NEED A PRESCRIPTION!"
"THERE ARE SOME OTHER OVER THE COUNTER DIURETICS AVAILABLE IN THE WOMEN'S SECTION!"
"I NEEEEEED EX-LAX!"
"...hold on a moment I'll get the pharmacist."

Then I hear the old women screaming at the top of her lungs at our pharmacist, who tells her the same thing I just did.

--IISgirl ... ever notice how most of the day's calls are either people wanting to go to the bathroom, or wanting to stop going to the bathroom?

This is a bit heartbreaking.

There’s an old woman who comes into Major Chain Pharmacy every so often. She has been coming in and talking to me since my lowly beginnings as a clerk, those many years ago. So, over the years, she has essentially watched me grow up. Now she calls me “doctor.” She's a bit of a grandmotherly figure. For blogging purposes, I’ll call her Mrs. J.

Last month she came in with a prescription for Aricept, and as she was dropping it off, told me that she didn’t know what the drug was for or why she was prescribed it.

*sigh*

It’s for Alzheimer’s.

Mrs. J was very upset when I told her this. She was adamant that she did not have Alzheimer’s. For being a very old woman, I had always known Mrs. J to be remarkably independent, always having a story to tell, and always appearing very on top of things.

Saying she was very upset with her doctor for not telling her anything, she did not get the prescription filled, bought some bread, and went home.

She came back the next day and asked me if I knew of a doctor she could go to for a second opinion. I wanted to believe Mrs. J was right and that she was misdiagnosed. To me, she seemed just as sharp as ever. I gave her the phone number to a few doctors in the area, she thanked me, and left.

Today, almost a month later, Mrs. J came in again. I experienced an eerie sense of déjà vu. Almost word for word, we had the same conversation as last month. The same interaction. She did not remember at all that I had given her those numbers a month earlier. Although the date on her Aricept prescription was from April, she insisted she had been given it only the day before.

With a heavy heart, I realized that Mrs. J was not misdiagnosed. It’s no longer she who is watching me change, but sadly, it is now I watching her change.

I asked if I could please fill the script for her, and she refused. I tried to get the pharmacist involved but she would have nothing to do with that.

In any case, before she left, telling me she would call the doctors tomorrow and schedule an appointment, she asked if she could have my phone number. I really don’t think Mrs. J has anyone else to talk to, and she’s really a sweet old lady, so I obliged.

But I don’t think she’ll ever remember to call me.

--IISgirl … no more emotional posts or else I will have to change my name

Ding Dong the Wicked Witch is Dead...

I am so happy. The most terrible tech of the world (the one i mentioned be4) has been fired.
:) :) :) :)

--IIS, I am SOOO terrible.

Spider Bites

Well guys, my computer has been broken for a couple days. I haven't known what to do with myself in the meantime. I was so bored the other night, I actually *gasp* studied! Shocking, I know.

I was starting to believe I was addicted to the internet and that it's interfering with my school work, but thank god I had the experience of the past couple days to prove to me that I'm equally unproductive even when I don't have the internet, so we can't go pointing fingers just at that. I spent most of my time watching 80's movies and playing PS3.

I'm back with a little story from work the other night.

Lady: What would you recommend I put on this spider bite?
Me: Well--
Lady: *blood-curdling scream* SPIDER!!!!!!!!
Me: ...

Coincidentally enough, as if on cue, a spider had descended from the pharmacy ceiling and was now dangling in between us. I grabbed a 20 dram vial and caught him in it. I promised to kill the spider, but, bleeding heart that I am, I really just let it out the drive-thru window later that night after she had paid for her hydrocortisone and left.

The spiders. They are out to get her. I find it hilarious.

--IISgirl ... back to enjoying the internet