I have to pick up my psychiatric medications on a daily basis, because when I was feeling extremely depressed “for no reason”, on my 25th birthday (not yet knowing that I was pregnant, and the number 25 has always showed up in strange places in my life – maybe you have such a number) I took an “overdose” of clonazepam, not intending to harm myself, but because I wanted to sleep for several days and forget about everything going on around me – the pressures to perform, at school, at work, in relationships, in bed, for my family. Not to mention my financial situation, deteriorating by the day. Because I was honest, phoned my doctor when I woke up (only 4 hours after I took the pills) to make sure I was going to be okay – and also told her that I had enough Effexor in my possession that I would have taken that had I wanted to kill myself – I have had to pick my meds up every morning – making sure to keep a consistent schedule to avoid brain-zaps and shakes – for the past 3 months.
Since then I have accomplished much at school, have a wonderful new living space with my partner that really feels like home, and I’ve been feeling pretty damn good about myself. I have been feeling like I’m figuring things out in this city, the system at school, realizing who my true friends are, etc. I made an eye appointment and bought new contact lenses, put together a 50 page student loan application for “insufficient funds”. Business has been taken care of, I’ve been pulling it off. I have even seen my GP three times in the past two weeks, by request, and I always arrive five minutes early, except for the time that I ran 15 blocks in 15 minutes because traffic was bad – I made it at the exact time of the appointment. We had figured out what kind of pain medication I needed to take and how often to treat the symptoms of my endometriosis – codeine, straight up – tylenol (of any kind, including “T3s”) raises my liver enzymes by 200 points. I would imagine that my liver is somewhat vulnerable after being fed 30 different psychiatric medications over the past 6 years. She wrote a prescription that would last me a few months so that I would never have to worry about being stuck in pain with no option other than the ER.
I was just feeling too good. I had to be put in my place.
I went to the last appointment before leaving for Peru today, to get a letter stating that these are my prescribed medications for customs officers. We also agreed that I should have my codeine raised slightly during the next 5 days while I have my period. She complimented me on my scholastic successes and wished me a good trip, handing me a prescription for the temporary increase with the letter.
Figuring I would take care of the pharmacy trip right away so that I could work from home without having to leave for the rest of the day, I walked into the Shopper’s Drug Mart that I have filled all of my prescriptions at since moving to Vancouver in June. I walked down an aisle to get to the pharmacy at the back of the store, and a woman ran past me, two seconds later a man appeared, and to catch her, pushed me into a display wall. Ouch. He has her in a headlock now and is dragging behind the “employee’s only” door. The staff got a kick out of the situation – a security guard catching someone who had been trying to steal vitamins. I did not receive an apology when the man walked past me while I was handing my prescription over to the pharmacy assistant, although the assistant asked me if I was okay. ”Oh, just fine.”
So – 4 extra pills for the next 5 days, still picking everything up daily, and then a release of the amount of medication I need while in Peru (my GP confirmed this over the phone while I was in her office). She interpreted the prescription and told me it would be ready right away. I sat down to wait for another $13 vial of a few pills (dispensing fees, paid daily for the past three months. Approximately $400 per month. This has basically bankrupted me, hence the “insufficient funds” application). While waiting, several individuals came in for their daily dose of liquid heroin (methadone). Then things take a turn for the worse.
The only pharmacist that has ever mistreated me at the Shopper’s Drug Mart, the others and their staff knowing me on a first name basis and enjoying early morning chats, walks up, holding the prescription.
“I can’t fill this. It cancels all of your other prescriptions?”
“It’s just an increase for 5 days while I’m menstruating. I was here to pick up my usual meds earlier this morning and I told another of the staff that I would probably be getting this from my GP.”
“I won’t give you any pills, other than the four extra for today, if you don’t fix this.”
“How would I go about fixing it?”
“Do you want me to call your doctor?!?” She looks extremely annoyed and angry.
“Yes, please.”
She apparently speaks with my doctor and asks her to fax a prescription that is written differently, I give her the $13 and get a little emotional. ”I’m sorry that I’m upset, but I feel like I’m being treated like a criminal for being on psychiatric and pain medications. It seems like it’s automatically assumed that I’m a ‘drug seeker’, when I’ve never even considered using opiates recreationally.”
“It’s your doctor’s fault. She should know how to write a prescription.”
“I think she does. She’s one of the most respected GPs in the city and has been writing prescriptions for 30 years.”
“No, there is a female (why the pharmacist needed to make a comment about gender I do not know) pharmacist that works at her office and she should know how to write a prescription.”
My partner then enters the store. He was buying groceries across the street and was concerned that I had been in the pharmacy for half an hour when we both expected this to take 5 minutes. My partner was previously “banned from her store”, to use this pharmacist’s words, for “causing a scene” when he went to pick up medication for me after surgery, and they threatened to withhold it for a reason that I either forget or was never determined. After handing me the four pills, we walked away, arm in arm. I was feeling a little traumatized. I hear dangerously close footsteps behind us. The security guard, coming to apologize after all?
“Excuse me?” It is the pharmacist.
“Is your name Chris?”
“Yes.”
“I banned you from my store.” She then directs her gaze towards me, “If you ever bring him in here again, I will not dispense any of your prescriptions.”
“I didn’t bring him here he was just worried about where I was because this took so long so he came to look for me…”
“Do you understand?”
“I wasn’t trying to…”
“No. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I will switch to a different pharmacy when I’m back from my trip because of this ‘disturbance’.”
“Please Do!!!!“
“Okay, I will. Thank-you.”
We go home. I respond to several e-mails from professors, and one from my dad, and have a long talk with my partner. I notice it is 4:30pm already. I should get started on the proposal I am to submit to one professor by the end of the day. But, I also better call the doctor’s office to make sure that the fax was sent. Often the receptionists forget to fax prescriptions, or the pharmacy’s phone line is busy, etc. I’ll call the pharmacy first, as not to bug the females at the doctor’s office. I am transferred to the pharmacist. She’s still on duty.
“Yes I got the fax but your doctor wrote it wrong. I can’t give you your pills tomorrow.”
“How could she have written it wrong again after you specified how she should write it?”
“Do you not know how to add and subtract? Your previous prescription was cancelled and 258 – 189…”
“I know how to add and subtract. Now what should I do to fix this situation?”
“I don’t know.”
“Should I call my doctor? I don’t know if she’s still on shift, but…”
“You do whatever you want to do.”
“Okay. And I will switch to another pharmacy as soon as possible since I seem to bother you so much.”
“I will give you your pills tomorrow, but after that, I refuse to dispense you any medications. You are no longer allowed at this pharmacy.”
“But what if…”
“Tomorrow. That’s it, then you’re on your own!“
“Alright!!!”
I call the doctor’s office and explain the situation to the receptionists, who are able to put me through to my doctor. I breathe a sigh of relief in my head. Having the power that she does as a doctor she will be able to fix this immediately, and I’m sure she will not be impressed with the pharmacist’s comments that she does not know how to write a prescription and that I can neither add nor subtract.
“Hi, what’s going on?”
I explain the situation, beginning with the security guard scene, the accusations, and inform her that this pharmacist threatened not to dispense any of my medications.
Loud sigh. ”You know, you can be…okay, I’ll call her, what’s the phone number?”
“Can you call me back after to let me know what I can expect?”
“Yes, I’ll call you back.”
I am fuming as I wait by the phone for half an hour, too enraged by the pharmacist’s condescending comments and unable to concentrate with this hanging over my head. Tears come. Why oh why do I have to deal with these situations constantly when I have so much else to do?!?!?!
The phone rings. Another sigh of relief in my mind as I answer. I should have known better. Why do I never know better…
“Okay, so you can pick up your pills there tomorrow, but you’ll have to find a new pharmacy for Friday.”
I am still crying.
“When you get distraught you are very demanding and can be rude to people and yell at people. You have to realize that this is just how things go in life, you can’t get so upset all of the time and take it out on others.”
“I don’t believe I do…I have a lot of work to do for school, and having these issues hanging over my head all of the time is not necessary, is it? There is no pharmacy on campus, I have to be able to rely on the fact that I will get my prescriptions each morning.”
“But you get like that, it’s not just that one pharmacist. The whole staff there finds you demanding and my staff has told me about you yelling at them. Everyone has been complaining.”
“I have never yelled at them, I’ve just called when I don’t know what’s going on with my prescriptions…”
“And you showed up here in tears! You just get so distraught. You have to realize that is just the way life goes and you need to learn how to deal with people. It’s respectable that you’re pursuing your academic goals, but these things are more important.”
This exchange goes on for some time. I tell her that I have a great relationship with every one at that pharmacy except for that one pharmacist. That I always tell her staff that I understand they are busy and are not responsible for the pharmacy’s mess, but that I need to know if I should be expecting brain-zaps and excruciating pain the following day.
“Yes, but you just…” She stops herself from lecturing me further on my interpersonal skills, called “exceptional” long ago in a reference letter written by my undergrad supervisor. I knew she was stretching it with that one, didn’t I?
“We all have to deal with these things. Give me the phone number of another pharmacy, a smaller one, close to you and I’ll have the prescription faxed to them tomorrow.”
“Okay, there is one right by the station as well called ‘Maggie’s Pharmacy’, and another Shopper’s Drug Mart close-by.”
“No, you have to stay away from Shopper’s Drug Mart now. And actually no, you better come here to pick up the prescriptions so that you have them in your hot little hand, you know?”
I suppose she is suggesting that her staff may not execute her orders to fax the prescriptions because of my offensive conduct towards them in the past. Tears! Heaven forbid…
“Yes, yes, I know what you mean. I’ll make the trip to pick them up.”
“Okay, and call me before you leave for your trip to let me know what pharmacy you are using.”
For a good twenty minutes, I am incapable of conversation, even with my partner. Do I treat people horribly? Am I, as I said during first year university once, “Bad at Life.”? – much to my roommates’ dismay, yet I wore this statement like a badge for some time before I turned twenty. Should I just go on permanent disability and have my medications delivered so that I never have to leave my apartment, thus having to interact with others?
My academic goals are “respectable”, but I’m not the type of person suited to reaching such goals. I’m a psychiatric patient. And now I suffer from chronic pain on top of that! The dissonance between my conversation with the GP in person and this unexpected phone lecture scares me. For several moments, impossible to know how long it was now, I internalize her comments.
It’s true. I’m messed up. I’m not like other people. I can’t do the same things. Do I treat my professors and peers this way too? Most likely! Should I go into hiding? Yes, the general public should not be subjected to this mentally disordered monster. Those other pharmacy employees were faking the smiles. They shook their heads as soon as I turned to leave. They were mocking me by calling me by my name. They didn’t believe that I was a graduate student and teacher. Each vile of pills with a sticker with my name on it that they ever filled they did while suppressing their own rage at having to give me a precious tablet, having to count the number of pills on a daily basis. Of course. That would be infuriating.
The feeling is slowly fading now, and I feel completely numb. Emotionally exhausted. I must have been crying and believing that the “doctor knew best!” for longer than I thought. I take one tablet of clonazepam, right on schedule so that my hands don’t start shaking. I write this.
Now, I must write a proposal for a project for my methods class within the next three and a half hours. It will be subject to dissection as the last one was. Words and sentences underlined and in need of correction. Almost every sentence. Sometimes both a sentence and a word within it. After all, my research lies on the professor’s back. It’s really his project. I will try to conform to his preferred way of writing. Then I will go to sleep, and wake up when I usually wake up, between 6:30 and 7:00, and walk to Shopper’s Drug Mart one last time. God, please don’t let that pharmacist be the one on duty. Another mistake.
Be careful what you wish for because it will not come true.
I’ll say my goodbyes, and the employees will breathe a loud sigh of relief once I am out of earshot.
No other pharmacy opens before 9am, in the entire city, never mind my neighbourhood. I will have to start going to bed several hours later, and trying to get up later. I hate doing this. I love working during the silent morning, finishing up by sunrise.
It is no longer my right though. A slap on the wrist for bad behaviour. That’s just life. I shall deal with having to pick up prescriptions every morning as every one else does, right?
I feel nothing. My character has been erased for the evening. I hope this does not offend. I suppose it won’t – emotionless is what you want me to be. I hope you’re happy, then. I feel like shit, but I’ll do anything to make the pharmacy team and my doctor happy – their lives, after all, are of more value. I am risky. I could fall off the map anytime, considering my psychiatric “case history”. But while I’m around, I better not get distraught, ask people to carry out their jobs, or cry.
Awesome.