Watch out for pharmacy rage

Pharmacy! An old, staid, respected profession, and our patients are blowing their tops! We've all heard of postal rage ... heaven forbid. Grocery store rage: "Hey! He has more than 10 items!" Cigarette rage: "Your filthy habit is invading my personal space." And road rage. And everyone has felt lookin'-at-me rage: "You lookin' at me? Keep it up, man, and I'll kick your ...." I don't know about you, but I always look the other way at the first hint of lookin'-at-me rage.

Now, this is the newsmagazine for R.Ph.s. What we have here is PHARMACY RAGE! No need to feel ashamed. There will be doctor's office rage (there already is HMO rage), and the lawyer rage lesion is just about ready to pop.

Here are the rages I can fit into this column. You send me yours.

Refill rage: A big hairy guy gets right in your pretty woman's face. "Whaddya mean I can't have this refilled? It's my drug. I have a standing prescription." You stand back and look at the male pharmacist who, like a weenie, turns his back. "I need the doctor's permission, sir. It's over six months old." How fast does 911 respond?

Impatience rage: "What do you mean they're not ready yet? I phoned them in an hour ago, and all 10 have refills." This woman loves this rage-a monthly venting of steam. She calls in her 10 Rxs ahead but shows up a half to one hour later. Always red-faced, angry. "I'll change pharmacies [the dreaded threat] if you can't have them ready
when I come in."

Insurance rage: "I have a copay! Here's my card. I'm not paying $36 for one month's supply." You get a righteous stare. "Handle it!" Hands on hips, he paces, mumbling. "Why the hell do I have to wait? I pay my premiums.This damned pharmacy. Always screwing up." He throws his hands into the air. "I should sue."

Price rage: This is the best. The wife has discharged her elderly husband from the hospital. Among his problems is pneumococcal pneumonia. "I am not paying $110 for 10 tablets!" You see anger. "Ma'am, this medicine is important ..."
"Important, imsmortant. You druggists make so much money at the expense of seniors that it is criminal." The cost is $93.

"Eleven dollars a day is a small price to pay for keeping your husband at home and not in the hospital." She sneers. "Medicare pays for the drugs in the hospital. Maybe I should just drive him back there." You shrug, smile weakly. "You think it's funny? Where's the manager? This is not funny! I want the manager and a fair price." She is wearing a pricey tailored suit, with hair well done and alligator shoes. She hands me the vial of tablets. "I want my prescriptions back. I'll go to a drugstore that has fair prices."

Pill rage: "What? Fifteen minutes? All you have to do is put the pills in the bottle." The tech is polite. "There is more to it than that, sir." She asks the gentleman to fill out a profile sheet. Name, address ... "Why do you need my phone? It's unlisted. None of your business." His five minutes have passed and the paper hasn't reached the typist yet. "And you don't need my address, either." He huffs and puffs. "That we have to have. It's the law." Thump! Fist to the counter. "Just
put the pills in the bottle ... I'll go someplace else."

Smile! Laugh! Just be careful out there. Some of our customers are on the verge of losing control.

The author is a community pharmacist in Bellingham, Wash. His e-mail address is jplarge@uswest.net.