Early in my training I was given the opportunity to spend a month in one of the busiest emergency rooms in the United States, at night. The fact that it was at night made it special because that's when the majority of fucked up stuff happens to people. Every day I saw something different and heard stories from patients that Ripley's Believe It or Not wouldn't even explore. As a young pup I kept my mouth shut and stayed out of the way as best as I could. But in a busy ER there is nowhere to hide. I spent a lot of my time doing boring patient interviews to determine which medications they took on a regular basis. By the way, telling me what color your medicine is doesn't fucking help me at all! Take 5 minutes of your sorry ass lives and learn the names of the poison you are putting into your body.
It just so happens that my month was during the winter and the temperatures were routinely below freezing at night in this town. So as soon as the sun went down every drunk in a 5 miles radius came piling in with fake injuries so they could warm up and try to get a prescription for some Oxycontins to smoke. I must say that they added a special fragrance to the hallways that I could only describe as an ashtray full of curry diarrhea. About 2 hours after each bum was kicked out they would come stumbling back through the doors again and the cycle would repeat. I must say that the amount of taxpayer dollars that are wasted on these fuck asses is astonishing. I know you are thinking that some had hard luck stories and that I'm being too judgemental on them. Well fuck you because if you dealt with these degenerates every day like I did you would agree.
It would be easy to share some stories about all the babies that stupid mothers brought in because they were crying or high school girls who ate a bottle of Tylenol in a futile attempt to commit suicide. Seriously, if you're going to kill yourself Google it first so health care professionals don't have to waste their time pumping your stomach full of charcoal. The idea of suicide and self mutilation blow my fucking mind. Most of the time they are just weak ass cries for help that make you look stupid. But one night in particular one of those attention getting acts got a little "out of hand".
I was doing some boring paperwork when the page came across for the trauma team that a teen was being life flighted in with a serious injury. It called for all available trauma staff to get the trauma bay prepared for his arrival. As the student pharmacist, my role was to watch. So I waited for a few minutes so that I wouldn't be in the way during prep and hopped on the elevator to head down to the trauma bay. As the doors opened the flight nurses where wheeling the kid by and all I could see was the silver shock blanket that looked like a trash can lid. As I followed the bed into the room the blanket was removed and revealed a heinous site! Initially I thought he had shot himself in the hand with a shotgun. My vantage point was poor so I could only see what was supposed to be his fingers. As the residents worked on him I moved myself closer to the action because I'm a nosey little fucker and I wanted to see that hand!
The closer I got the more gruesome the scene became. I could now see that were weren't any fingers at all. but it didn't stop there. As I tracked the wound up his arm all I could make out was meat. There were no features or structure remaining from the tips of his fingers all the way up to his elbow. It looked like one of those 3 pound logs of hamburger meat you buy at the grocery store. The only difference was that there were very distinguishable chunks of bone sticking out everywhere. I was in shock at the extent of this injury and was so confused as to how it could have happened. I got my question answered when I took a closer look at his arm right above the elbow. There appeared to be a shiny object attached to it. Maybe it was some kind of tourniquet or device to stop the bleeding? Nope, it was a fucking industrial meat grinder. That's right, he had a meat grinder attached to his arm just above the elbow. His arm had been ground up just like that medium rare cheeseburger you ate last night.
The worst part of the story was that the boy had purposely placed his hand in the machine thinking it might cut his fingers and the emergency stop would kick in. He wasn't smart enough to know that it would suck his arm in and grind it until someone else turned the machine off. Needless to say he lost his arm but got to keep the same miserable life he already had.
Way to think it through buddy......
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Where's my RC Cola?
Every once in a while people like to have experiences that remind them of their childhood. Growing up in the South provided me with many opportunities to enjoy some of its traditions. It varies from drinking sweet tea on the porch by the citronella candle to eating Karo syrup sandwiches! I enjoyed every single one of them but there was one that remains close to my heart. My father and I occasionally would have an RC Cola and a moon pie on our way to the races. About 7 years ago I experienced something that took me right back to the roadside service station , but with a slight twist.
I was looking forward to a day in the operating room working along side of an anesthesiologist. I was going to be allowed to sit in on a day of surgeries and learn about all the medications associated with various operations. I am a whore for blood, brains, and guts! There is nothing I enjoy more than seeing someone getting knifed open and having their insides manipulated. This day would prove to test my ability to stay focused in a "sticky" situation.
As with all operating schedules the day started very early (before 7AM). I was decked out in my standard issue baby blue scrubs that at least every person in house keeping had worn once. I also put on my cotton shower cap and shoe covers which complemented the ripe banana colored gown that went over everything. My mask deflected the stench of my own stale coffee breath directly into my nose and simultaneously protected others from the odor. We entered the first room of the day and I felt the bite of the frigid air. Luckily I was wearing all those layers but I was confident that my nipples could slice through them at any moment.
The first case of the day was a woman in her early eighties in desperate need of a shiny new hip. Thanks to her 40 year habit of smoking as many cigarettes as humanly possible, we were not going to be able to put her to sleep. Back then a hip replacement was a brutal process! She would be awake the whole time but the medication would keep her from remembering the awful things the doctor did to her. Including sawing the end of her femur off and hammering the replacement down into it! But before he did that we had to give her a spinal block so she wouldn't feel the pain.
We gave granny a little happy medicine to calm her down so that we could slam a four inch needle into the small of her back. She smelled like an ash tray filled with diarrhea and cat piss. We rolled her onto her side to get access to her back. She was so old she had wrinkles on her ass. The anesthesiologist instructed her to relax and pull her knees up to her chest and told me to bend over so we could get a closer look. Now my face is about 18 inches away from her back and she is not cooperating. He asked me to put my hand on the back side of her leg and help her push her knees up. That's when the situation made a turn for the worse. As I leaned in and started to push something caught my eye. At first glance I thought I recognized it....it was a vanilla moon pie!! This moon pie had some short curly hairs growing on it and I think the cream in the middle had soured. That's right, I was face to face with her vagina. The visual trauma was overwhelming and I seriously couldn't stop looking at it!!
The only problem I had was if I decided to take a bite I didn't have an RC Cola to wash it down.....
I was looking forward to a day in the operating room working along side of an anesthesiologist. I was going to be allowed to sit in on a day of surgeries and learn about all the medications associated with various operations. I am a whore for blood, brains, and guts! There is nothing I enjoy more than seeing someone getting knifed open and having their insides manipulated. This day would prove to test my ability to stay focused in a "sticky" situation.
As with all operating schedules the day started very early (before 7AM). I was decked out in my standard issue baby blue scrubs that at least every person in house keeping had worn once. I also put on my cotton shower cap and shoe covers which complemented the ripe banana colored gown that went over everything. My mask deflected the stench of my own stale coffee breath directly into my nose and simultaneously protected others from the odor. We entered the first room of the day and I felt the bite of the frigid air. Luckily I was wearing all those layers but I was confident that my nipples could slice through them at any moment.
The first case of the day was a woman in her early eighties in desperate need of a shiny new hip. Thanks to her 40 year habit of smoking as many cigarettes as humanly possible, we were not going to be able to put her to sleep. Back then a hip replacement was a brutal process! She would be awake the whole time but the medication would keep her from remembering the awful things the doctor did to her. Including sawing the end of her femur off and hammering the replacement down into it! But before he did that we had to give her a spinal block so she wouldn't feel the pain.
We gave granny a little happy medicine to calm her down so that we could slam a four inch needle into the small of her back. She smelled like an ash tray filled with diarrhea and cat piss. We rolled her onto her side to get access to her back. She was so old she had wrinkles on her ass. The anesthesiologist instructed her to relax and pull her knees up to her chest and told me to bend over so we could get a closer look. Now my face is about 18 inches away from her back and she is not cooperating. He asked me to put my hand on the back side of her leg and help her push her knees up. That's when the situation made a turn for the worse. As I leaned in and started to push something caught my eye. At first glance I thought I recognized it....it was a vanilla moon pie!! This moon pie had some short curly hairs growing on it and I think the cream in the middle had soured. That's right, I was face to face with her vagina. The visual trauma was overwhelming and I seriously couldn't stop looking at it!!
The only problem I had was if I decided to take a bite I didn't have an RC Cola to wash it down.....
Monday, March 7, 2011
Bumps in the road?
Every pharmacy has a set of regular customers, some we enjoy and some we despise. The regulars provide us with the majority of our stories because they tend to share more personal things. I have come to know many people and the unique problems that each of them have to hide. They range from the serious such as HIV to the mundane like dandruff. There is one person who is very open with me and she loves to share her most intimate details.
Joanie (which obviously isn't her real name) comes into the store about one to two times weekly. Each trip has its own purpose as she ALWAYS has something wrong. I'm not saying she is a hypochondriac but if she mixed in a weekly shower she might not require as much medical attention. Joanie is just over five feet tall and is approximately one hundred and seventy five pounds (including the weight of her constant coat of sweat). She keeps her hair cut short and tends to favor the fashion stylings of a fifteen year old boy. Yes, she is of the lesbian persuasion. Joanie has a very pleasant disposition and is always appreciative of the advice I give her ever though she never follows it.
This particular trip Joanie had two questions for me. She summoned me down to the end of the counter to inquire about a couple of "infections" she was having issues with. The first of the two was fairly common for her and by common I mean weekly. She had in her own words a funky cheese-like discharge coming from her vagina. She knew it was a yeast infection and was curious about her over the counter treatment options. She explained how the odor and viscosity was having a negative impact on her intimate relationship with her girlfriend. All I could think was that I wouldn't want to eat raw goat cheese every day either. I asked Joanie what she had tried and she says "Oh, I know which cream works best, I just want to know if it comes without the applicators?" So of course I asked why she didn't want the applicators. She said because she has one already and she just reuses it. The tickle in my throat was a strong indicator that I desperately needed to vomit.
Her second question came right on the heels of the first and my nausea was building rapidly. She quickly described that she had some pimples that she couldn't get to pop so she called the doctor about it. She asked me if acne on the outside of her vagina was common. She added that the bumps got worse almost every time she shaved down there. I explained that sometimes razors could cause rashes on sensitive skin and that ingrown hairs weren't that uncommon in the genital area. Joanie informed me that a prescription had been called in for her and the nurse said that I (the pharmacist) would tell her what she had. I was anticipating that when I opened the drawer there would be an antibiotic there to treat her minor infection. After I pulled out the prescription I realized that I was going to have to tell Joanie that she had genital herpes.
It was unusually difficult to eat my cottage cheese for lunch that day thinking about her trying to pop her herpes lesions that were covered in cheesy discharge.
Joanie (which obviously isn't her real name) comes into the store about one to two times weekly. Each trip has its own purpose as she ALWAYS has something wrong. I'm not saying she is a hypochondriac but if she mixed in a weekly shower she might not require as much medical attention. Joanie is just over five feet tall and is approximately one hundred and seventy five pounds (including the weight of her constant coat of sweat). She keeps her hair cut short and tends to favor the fashion stylings of a fifteen year old boy. Yes, she is of the lesbian persuasion. Joanie has a very pleasant disposition and is always appreciative of the advice I give her ever though she never follows it.
This particular trip Joanie had two questions for me. She summoned me down to the end of the counter to inquire about a couple of "infections" she was having issues with. The first of the two was fairly common for her and by common I mean weekly. She had in her own words a funky cheese-like discharge coming from her vagina. She knew it was a yeast infection and was curious about her over the counter treatment options. She explained how the odor and viscosity was having a negative impact on her intimate relationship with her girlfriend. All I could think was that I wouldn't want to eat raw goat cheese every day either. I asked Joanie what she had tried and she says "Oh, I know which cream works best, I just want to know if it comes without the applicators?" So of course I asked why she didn't want the applicators. She said because she has one already and she just reuses it. The tickle in my throat was a strong indicator that I desperately needed to vomit.
Her second question came right on the heels of the first and my nausea was building rapidly. She quickly described that she had some pimples that she couldn't get to pop so she called the doctor about it. She asked me if acne on the outside of her vagina was common. She added that the bumps got worse almost every time she shaved down there. I explained that sometimes razors could cause rashes on sensitive skin and that ingrown hairs weren't that uncommon in the genital area. Joanie informed me that a prescription had been called in for her and the nurse said that I (the pharmacist) would tell her what she had. I was anticipating that when I opened the drawer there would be an antibiotic there to treat her minor infection. After I pulled out the prescription I realized that I was going to have to tell Joanie that she had genital herpes.
It was unusually difficult to eat my cottage cheese for lunch that day thinking about her trying to pop her herpes lesions that were covered in cheesy discharge.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Real Knee Knockers
One of the things they don't teach us in pharmacy school is how to deal with unexpected situations. So when a patient comes in and does something ridiculous you just have to go with the flow. Understandably, people say strange things when they are sick and sometimes even do things that they never would on a normal day. Well I don't have normal days. Each day is different in its own special way. Most of the time they provide me with long lasting entertainment, memories, and sometimes just piss me off. There is one day in particular that I will never forget.
It was late in the fall and the temperatures here had already dropped to slightly above frigid. The store was buzzing with blue haired ladies and snotty little kids. Each moving at very different paces and at volumes on opposite ends of the spectrum. Generally when the store is full of sticky little vermin I get distracted. I have a hard time deciding if the parents are to blame for the turd-hand terrors destroying everything or if Satan actually sent them specifically for me. I only mention this because on this day I was supposed to give an elderly lady a vaccination. I knew ahead of time that she was very fragile and feared that if I didn't notice her come in that one of the children could knock her down and break her hip! We all know that a busted hip in the elderly is a sure sign that the reaper is on his way to collect.
Sometime late in the morning I observed an Asian woman being helped through the door by a lady about 50 years her junior. Remembering the heavy accent of the caller who made the appointment, I deduced that my patient had arrived. She was almost 5 feet tall and only appeared to weigh about 90 pounds. She was dressed in an over sized sweat suit that I thought had floral designs. Turns out those flowers were just stains of an unknown origin. She had a large smile on her face and was very pleasant during our introduction. She spoke zero English so her granddaughter had to translate for us. After going through the normal pre-shot routine and questions, I took her and the girl into my office to administer the shot.
I placed gammy in a chair and instructed her grand baby to have her slip one arm out of the sweatshirt so that I could get to her shoulder. I turned my back and prepared the injection as the air filled with a language that I would never understand. A banter in some form of Chinese that lasted about 2 or 3 minutes ended and I turned to clean a spot on her arm with alcohol. When I looked up I noticed that gammy had decided to remove her shirt entirely. No problem right? Wrong! Apparently the brassiere is not a popular piece of clothing in her opinion. To my shock gammy was topless! Now the confusing part, where were her tits? Naturally my eyes panned south as I approached her and to my horror there were two hairless cats curled up in her lap eating raisins! Get the picture? There are some things you just can't unsee. All I could do was smile and continue on.
I will never eat raisins again.....
It was late in the fall and the temperatures here had already dropped to slightly above frigid. The store was buzzing with blue haired ladies and snotty little kids. Each moving at very different paces and at volumes on opposite ends of the spectrum. Generally when the store is full of sticky little vermin I get distracted. I have a hard time deciding if the parents are to blame for the turd-hand terrors destroying everything or if Satan actually sent them specifically for me. I only mention this because on this day I was supposed to give an elderly lady a vaccination. I knew ahead of time that she was very fragile and feared that if I didn't notice her come in that one of the children could knock her down and break her hip! We all know that a busted hip in the elderly is a sure sign that the reaper is on his way to collect.
Sometime late in the morning I observed an Asian woman being helped through the door by a lady about 50 years her junior. Remembering the heavy accent of the caller who made the appointment, I deduced that my patient had arrived. She was almost 5 feet tall and only appeared to weigh about 90 pounds. She was dressed in an over sized sweat suit that I thought had floral designs. Turns out those flowers were just stains of an unknown origin. She had a large smile on her face and was very pleasant during our introduction. She spoke zero English so her granddaughter had to translate for us. After going through the normal pre-shot routine and questions, I took her and the girl into my office to administer the shot.
I placed gammy in a chair and instructed her grand baby to have her slip one arm out of the sweatshirt so that I could get to her shoulder. I turned my back and prepared the injection as the air filled with a language that I would never understand. A banter in some form of Chinese that lasted about 2 or 3 minutes ended and I turned to clean a spot on her arm with alcohol. When I looked up I noticed that gammy had decided to remove her shirt entirely. No problem right? Wrong! Apparently the brassiere is not a popular piece of clothing in her opinion. To my shock gammy was topless! Now the confusing part, where were her tits? Naturally my eyes panned south as I approached her and to my horror there were two hairless cats curled up in her lap eating raisins! Get the picture? There are some things you just can't unsee. All I could do was smile and continue on.
I will never eat raisins again.....
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
The Reason Why
It would be safe to say that most people don't fully understand the role of the pharmacist in the the health care triad. Well I'm not here to bore you with a bunch of bullshit stories about how great we are and all the wonderful things we do that you never knew about. The reason why I am doing this is to share share some stories and experiences I have had behind the counter. All of these stories will be from first hand experience and will be told according to the best of my recollection. Don't assume a story is about you or about someone you know because it's not, so get over yourself. Also, I don't care if you think my grammar or spelling is poor either. Most of these accounts will be gross or graphic in nature and I don't plan on censoring any of it. So with that disclaimer and a glimmer into how raw this will be, lets get started.
This day started as most others do, busy as hell with people filtering in and out of the store at a scary pace. When I'm behind the counter my head is down and I'm focused on my work about 90% of the day. Occasionally I look around to see who is there or if any gypsies are stealing everything off the shelf. On this day I noticed a woman coming through the door with a 2 liter soda bottle in her hand. This obviously peeked my interest and I locked on to her trying to decide if she was just thirsty or about to splash a Molotov cocktail in my face. As she approached I noticed the bottle was empty (phew!) but she was coming right for me. I'm sure she had rehearsed her lines on the way over but I don't think she was prepared for my lack of concern.
Instead of saying excuse me sir or pardon me, the small rhino blurts out hey! Hey you! I responded as nicely as possible, yes mam? She holds up the bottle and says can you help me with this? I say, can I help you with what? With the most sarcastic face I can muster. At this point I have discovered that she has a street scam going and she thinks I'm just stupid enough to go for it. She shakes the bottle and manages to say with my bottle! Doing so without any of her methamphetamine rotted teeth falling out was impressive. So now I ask what she wants me to do with her bottle and she says she wants me to fill it up with gas. Keep in mind she hasn't mentioned anything about running out of gas. After I took a deep breath I informed her that we do not sell gas!! Not to be deterred she tells me that she knows that!!!! So now I'm confused and I ask what she wants me to do?? Finally the question I could see coming from the beginning, I want you to give me some money for gas? Just like that people, give her some money for gas?? Are you kidding me? I told her we are a pharmacy not a bank, if she wanted a loan go next door to the bank. Not to mention there was a gas station one hundred yards away. She looked at me like she was going to rip my throat out and smoke a rock with it! I had conquered her though and she angrily took her bottle and left.
Is everything supposed to be free or gifted to the strung out and desperate? Damn people
This day started as most others do, busy as hell with people filtering in and out of the store at a scary pace. When I'm behind the counter my head is down and I'm focused on my work about 90% of the day. Occasionally I look around to see who is there or if any gypsies are stealing everything off the shelf. On this day I noticed a woman coming through the door with a 2 liter soda bottle in her hand. This obviously peeked my interest and I locked on to her trying to decide if she was just thirsty or about to splash a Molotov cocktail in my face. As she approached I noticed the bottle was empty (phew!) but she was coming right for me. I'm sure she had rehearsed her lines on the way over but I don't think she was prepared for my lack of concern.
Instead of saying excuse me sir or pardon me, the small rhino blurts out hey! Hey you! I responded as nicely as possible, yes mam? She holds up the bottle and says can you help me with this? I say, can I help you with what? With the most sarcastic face I can muster. At this point I have discovered that she has a street scam going and she thinks I'm just stupid enough to go for it. She shakes the bottle and manages to say with my bottle! Doing so without any of her methamphetamine rotted teeth falling out was impressive. So now I ask what she wants me to do with her bottle and she says she wants me to fill it up with gas. Keep in mind she hasn't mentioned anything about running out of gas. After I took a deep breath I informed her that we do not sell gas!! Not to be deterred she tells me that she knows that!!!! So now I'm confused and I ask what she wants me to do?? Finally the question I could see coming from the beginning, I want you to give me some money for gas? Just like that people, give her some money for gas?? Are you kidding me? I told her we are a pharmacy not a bank, if she wanted a loan go next door to the bank. Not to mention there was a gas station one hundred yards away. She looked at me like she was going to rip my throat out and smoke a rock with it! I had conquered her though and she angrily took her bottle and left.
Is everything supposed to be free or gifted to the strung out and desperate? Damn people
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