Years ago, circa 1986, I wrote an essay entitled "Going
Home." It was about the first large scale trials of
AZT for AIDS, when the drug was being issued in one-month
supplies, rigidly controlled, but come December, patients
who were planning to leave the city for the holidays
were able to get an extra supply early. I tried to
describe the line of patients at the outpatient window;
the sort of bonding that seemed to go on. It was an
interesting notion – the pharmacist simply listening,
observing. I tried to give the piece a bittersweet
style, and described it as Pharmacist as Bartender.
Turns out that I was more perceptive than I had realized.
With a bartender, you have to buy a drink, and put
a dollar in the tip glass now and then. Late night
talk radio gets interrupted for commercials, but call
an all-night pharmacist, and you can talk to your heart's
content.
My only objection is to those people who don't understand
the basic rule: Don't bother me when everybody else
is awake. Between seven and eight in the morning, everybody
is waking up and wants to order their prescription
for pick-up later. I have to do intake, filling, phones,
and cash register, and I don't have time to listen
to your story. Where were you at 4am?
So far, I've had a physician threaten to report me
to the State Board of Pharmacy because he had to wait
10 minutes before I answered the phone, and one woman
who had never read the Good Samaritan study, but should
have. It was a study conducted among a group of seminary
students. They were told, "The bishop wants to see
you," and sent to walk to the bishop's office, but
along the way there was somebody asking for help. The
goal of the study was to see what factors increased
or decreased the likelihood of the student pausing
to offer help. The critical factor was time.
Tell a seminary student, "The bishop wants to see you
now," and there's no way he'll stop. Those
who were told, "The bishop wants to see you in half
an hour," were far more kindly disposed.
And so, the woman was telling me about her poverty
and need for assistance, and desperate need for the
medication – she had the notion that perhaps
I would pay for it out of my own pocket. She was effective,
and an hour or two earlier she might have tugged at
my heart, but not between seven and eight. I simply
assured her that emergency rooms are required to treat
anybody, regardless of ability to pay.
Would you like to share your story about a touching,
funny, or memorable event that happened to you on the
job? Do you have your own story of being a patient? Email
us today at submissions@medhunters.com.
Article published on Nov 9 05
12:59AM.
