If you haven’t yet read, So There’s This Pharmacist, I’d encourage you to do so right now, just so you know exactly what we’re dealing with here. On the last post in The Carol Series I told you that med pickup time was on Wednesday. Scott was aware that he was to pick up my meds on his way home from work on Wednesday evening, like he has done at least once a month for the past three fucking years, I even sent him a text reminding him for the 17th time that he was about to dance with the devil after work. He was good. Scott’s rock solid, takes one for the team without hesitation because that’s just the kind of guy he is, or possibly because I turn into a raving fucking lunatic after walking into Carol’s mindfucks and he’s left with that mess to clean up. Either way, once I’ve made the call for refills my job is done and Scotty’s starts. (Thank you, Scotty. I love you.)
Let’s back up a little minute here. I called in on the Saturday prior to picking up my meds for Wednesday because I’m courteous like that and they’re now putting them in blister packs and I wanted to give them enough time to do that. Again, I’m courteous. On Monday I had to see the psychiatrist (you can read all about the waiting room shit show here.)
While I love Dr. T, sometimes when I’m a little too happy she gets concerned and believes I may be heading a little too up too fast. (When it comes to my BIG swings, you can chart those suckers pretty closely, within weeks every single year. The minor blips are a different story. I’m getting off topic.)
Dr. T decided that I needed a slight increase in one of my stabilizers and we had been talking about this for a couple of months now so I agreed to it. We also went over a medication that is usually used to treat people with a diagnosis of Parkinson’s, and decided to decrease it. (I’m on it for RLS due to another med.) She faxed the new orders over to my usual pharmacy and gave me a hardcopy as well. On the way home I decided to try my luck and peep in to drop the hardcopy off in case the fax messed up. Technology and electronic shit scare me almost as much as Carol does.
I am not ashamed to admit that I pussyfooted down the beauty isle like a fucking coward. The beauty isle is off to the left of the pharmacy at the back of the store, you can make it look like you’re mulling over generic brands of acidophilus while you’re really checking out everything that happens over the counter at the sanity station. Carol was not there. I pulled out my POS iPhone 5 and made a new note, Monday 3:45 Carol NOT working. With my confidence back I strolled up to the counter and handed over my script. Everyone there is so amazing!
Nicole! How are you? Are you having a good summer? How are the kids?
Everything is great, how are you? Dr. T faxed in a new script, please note the change. I wanted to make sure you saw it all before Wednesday.
No worries. You have a great day. Will Scott be in to pick it up?
See that? Everyone knows my name. It’s like Cheers in there. I have been using this pharmacy for like, 15 years, they know my kids FFS! Then Carol comes along and fucks everything up.
Off I go happy that I’m taken care of and that the new orders won’t be an issue, besides it’s still two days before I have to pick them up.
I’m making dinner three hours later when my phone rings…
NICOLE? THIS IS CAROL SPEAKING!
Instantly I want to curl into the fetal position and cry. It’s one thing for me to phone there, but for the spawn of Satan to violate my home by phoning me, I can’t even. And she’s flipped on her mind control shit again because where did my big girl words go?
NICOLE! Your medications have changed and I’ve already filled your blister packs. What’s the problem?
Are you for real, Lady? “What’s the problem?”
There’s no problem, Carol, my medications have been changed as they have been many times before. Is there a problem on your end that I should be concerned with?
I’m a confident woman for crying out loud. Shit does not bother me. I do not care what people think of me. I’m loud, proud and full of fire, Carol can’t touch me, right?
I don’t smoke weed (only because I get paranoid. I hear the benefits are pretty good) but you would think I’d just hot boxed the shit out of my whip. I no longer have saliva in my mouth and I’m struggling to speak. If we looked Carol up on ancestry.com we’d all know the truth, that woman descends from Medusa herself. She has evil evil powers that she hurls without regard.
I was going to talk to Ken and your psychiatrist about your medication. I don’t understand why there are so many changes and the refills aren’t steady. I think we need to do a thorough medication review.
The fuck? You’re a pharmacist! Granted, you know a lot of stuff about meds, and I’m thankful for your knowledge, but welcome to the world of mental illness you fucking ignorant woman. Also, whom the fuck’s job is you gunning for? Fill my meds, Carol!
Well, that’s not really your concern, although you can call my psychiatrist, my GP, the Psych nurse, whatever, just have THOSE meds filled for Wednesday. Scott will be in to get them.
I have already filled your meds and we are quite busy here, I don’t think you understand that you are not our only customer.
Again, the fuck?
I’m going to hold my shit together and be nice because I’ve already lost my shit at the pharmacy before. But next time, I’ll be sure to check your calendar and schedule my swings around your days off you evil fucking bitch. (but not with the swears, really)
Not gonna lie, it was the first time I hung up on Carol and I loved it!
I didn’t get a call from anyone so I was pretty sure that Carol was just exercising her right to hate me without anything to really push her to act on it. Wednesday arrived and I reminded Scotty to grab my meds on the way home. I was busy packing for our little family get-a-way when my cell rang. It was Scotty.
Sit down Babe and take a deep breath before I hand over the phone.
My senses go on high alert. Has there been an accident? Is someone hurt? Has someone died?
WHAT’S GOING ON? ARE YOU OKAY?
I hear him take a deep breath and mumble something like, “this is ridiculous” to someone out of my ear shot.
Everything is fine. I’m at the pharmacy and Carol has informed me that you have had a note on your file for the past 3 years stating that you are the only person that they can release your meds to.
Wait, what? You’ve been picking up my meds for years. What in the fuck is she talking about?
Scott lets out a big sigh; I don’t know how he keeps his shit together as well as he does. I think he owes some of that patience and tolerance to being in love with me, and also from the years of dealing with my shit. The man deserves a medal.
She’s right here and she’s ready to talk to you. You may need to come down to release your meds.
I feel the evil one’s presence before I hear her.
Nicole, you yourself put a note on this file stating that you were the only one who could pick up your medications. The note was written three years ago and we’re just doing our job here. You’re going to need to come down here and pick up your medication yourself and write a formal letter stating that you will release your medications to others.
*********A little back-story for you.
A few years ago Scott and I separated for a year and during that time an old ex and I rekindled a relationship. It ended badly, apparently I hadn’t learned my lesson the first few go-arounds. Anyway, shortly after I had gotten my fucking wits about me again I went to grab my meds from the pharmacy only to find that someone had already picked them up. Turns out the ex had a hankering for my benzos, which resulted in me having to put a note on my file that my meds could only be released to me. That was three years ago. Now lets flash back to last Wednesday. ************
Well now, thanks for bringing that to my attention, Carol, but Scott has been picking up my meds at least twice a month for the past three years, so…. where is the coming from now?
Not gonna lie, I’m about ready to pee in my pants at the thought of confronting this woman, like I stated before, Carol scares the shit out of me!
THERE IS A NOTE ON THIS FILE THAT YOU PUT HERE YOURSELF. WE HAVE AN OBLIGATION TO FOLLOW IT!
She’s actually scolding me now like I’m a fucking child.
Okay Carol, but since I put that stipulation on my file, MYSELF, Scott has been picking up my meds twice a month for three years so why all of a sudden is it a problem now?
THE PROBLEM IS THAT YOU HAVE NEVER GIVEN CLEARANCE FOR ANYONE TO PICK UP YOUR MEDICATION. WHY DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?
Now I’m raging fucking mad!
No. The problem is that if I had a stipulation, you obviously didn’t follow it for the past 3 fucking years and now you have your shit in a knot because you have to re-do my meds after you’ve already done them.
I can hear her typing now; if she doesn’t slow down I swear to Christ she’s going to pull a tendon.
YOU CAN’T TALK TO ME THAT WAY. WE CAN REFUSE SERVICE!
Oh? And I can complain that you haven’t been following my orders for the past 3 years and have been letting some random dude pick my shit up. Release my meds to my husband, clear the note and have a good fucking night.
I hung up the phone before I could hear her reply and I was so scared that I ran to the bathroom and threw up everything I had eaten in the past 13 hours. Scott got home half an hour later with my meds and I haven’t heard from Carol since. I have a phone appointment with Dr. T on Friday, we’re adding a new med so I’m getting her to call in in on Monday at 3:45. Cross your fingers that the devil has taken holiday.