Tag Archive: CII stories


Yesterday, a concerned father came into the pharmacy with a pill his wife found in their 13 year old son’s bedroom. We took a look at the pill, knowing full well that it was most likely a narcotic, but we gave the kid the benefit of the doubt.

It was a round, white pill, with the number 30 on one side, and some other numbers on the other side. When we looked it up, it turned out to be Morphine Sulfate ER 30mg.

The pharmacist told this to the father, who just about lost it. “What!” he said in disbelief. He asked for a printout about it, and of course all we could do was print the patient info sheet that goes in every prescription bag. (He wanted something with a picture, but none of our sources had one.)

Personally, I feel no sympathy for the kid, only for the parent. If you’re smart enough to hide it from your parents and stupid enough to get caught, you deserve whatever your parents dish out. (If this had happened when I was 13, my parents would have smacked me so hard, I’d still be feeling it.)

Besides, there are enough illegal drugs out there with fewer side effects.

Military Medicine

Hi, everybody. Sorry for the long hiatus, but I was trying to keep the “desperate plea” post at the top of the site for obvious reasons. The good news is we’ve hired a new technician (well, technician in training) and we’re interviewing another new tech on Saturday that has 6 years of experience, so posts should become more frequent around here.

If you’ve ever been in the military, known someone in the military, or read a newspaper some time in the past year, you know how bad military medicine can be.

Now, imagine trying to deal with all that, and a kid that has been off of their ADHD medicine for a week and a half, and having to find your way around in a new town at your latest posting.

A while back, a mother brought in a script for her son for Focalin XR 15mg, and no other pharmacy in the area had it. (Now, normally, this line would get an automatic “we don’t have it either” from me, but since the kid was bouncing up and down like a chimpanzee, I was more apt to believe her).

The doctor in Ohio had written a script, but nobody (including us) would fill it because he had forgotten to write the “XR”. They had run out when they first moved to out area from Ohio, and the base clinic couldn’t (or wouldn’t) schedule an appointment until that morning.

Problem One: The script was written on a god-forsaken DOD script that are never legible and look like they were printed in the 1960’s.

Problem Two: The doctor didn’t put her DEA number on the script, which of course, is required form all Schedule II medications (and indeed, all schedule III-V medications.)

Thankfully, the mom had a phone number for the clinic, a rarity in military medicine. So, we called and asked for the Doctor’s DEA number.

Problem Three: This particular doctor didn’t have a DEA number (WTF?), so we legally couldn’t fill the script.

Problem Four: Since Focalin XR is a schedule II medication, we’re not allowed to change much on the prescription, including the doctor’s name (same reason the “Focalin”, sans “XR” above couldn’t be filled).

Problem Five: It was almost 5pm and there was no way for the mom to make it back to the clinic before they closed.

However, the doctor offered to have someone stay until the mom could make it back to the clinic, which is 30+ minutes away. A new script, written by a doctor with a DEA number, would be waiting there for her to pick up.

Problem Six: She had to deal with a screaming kid in the car for yet another hour.

When the mom brought the new script back to the pharmacy, I typed it in and gave it to the pharmacist so she could pull the medication from the safe and count it. When she was checking it, she came across:

Problem Seven: The new doctor had neglected to write the strength (15mg); I had come to know the script so well, I hadn’t even noticed the lack of a strength when I was typing it in.

Thankfully, the mom still had the other (technically non-valid) script, so we just took both and called the clinic the next day to verify (the strength is one of the few things on a Schedule II that we can change.)

So after about 4 hours work (granted most of the work was the mom’s, not ours) TriCare paid us a whopping $5.69 over our cost. Thanks.

At least the mom was nice throughout the whole ordeal, especially considering the problem child she was having to deal with the whole time. Thank goodness for small miracles.

See-too day

(aka, C-II day)

After the 3rd perco script in a row, I started calling today a C-II day. After the fourth, I jokingly said we just just keep the percocet out on the counter, and after the 5th, we started keeping it out.

And it wasn’t just percocet; there was also metadate, focalin, and Daytrana (more on that later). There was even one really spooky, “Scary Door” moment. A man came in with a script for 120 tabs of Percocet 10/650. The pharmacist, however, knew that it was about time for some of our regular patients, a husband and wife, to get their monthly supply (he gets 80, she gets 200.) If we had filled the 120 script, we wouldn’t have had enough to fill the 200+80, so we turned the script down (well, that, and the guy looked kind of shady.)

Not 30 seconds later, the wife brings in their scripts.

I told you it was spooky.

Then there was the Daytrana (ritalin in a patch) script. Monday, we had a mom call to see if we have Daytrana 10mg patches, #60 (the kid was to use 2 patches daily). Of course we didn’t have it, so we told her we’d have to order it. Long story short, we eventually agreed to order it without the script (our first mistake); the mom wanted to try a few more places before bringing the script to us.

When the Daytrana finally came in, the lady’s husband brought the script in, but he had a coupon card that is good for 40 free patches. Since the kid had never used the patches before, we asked him if he would like to just get 40 patches for free (and lose the rest) to see if they even work for the kid before they had to pay any money for it. Well, he thought that was a great idea, so we ran the script through and sent him on his way.

About 10 minutes later, I get a call from an angry lady (guess who) demanding to speak to the pharmacist, who was helping a patient out in the aisle. I put her on hold, but before the pharmacist had a chance to pick up, the lady had hung up and called back, screaming (and I quote): “Don’t you dare put me on hold again! I’ve been trying to get this straightened out for a week!” (Yeah, lady, 2 days equals a week in this country.)

She demanded to know why she would lose the remaining 20 patches, and we explained to her that on schedule II medications, we can’t give refills. We promised to contact the doctor’s office and let them know the situation (in fact, we already had), but she wouldn’t have it; she demanded (her word) to get the rest of them, even if she had to pay the $45 copay.

My response would have been, “Sorry, the medicine has already left the pharmacy.” The pharmacist’s response was, “Fine, whatever, just as long as I don’t have to deal with it anymore.” (to me, not to the mom.)

The husband was very apologetic when he came back. He gave us back the 10-pack, and we gave him another 30-pack (thankfully Daytrana is sealled with ultra-hi-tech holographic seal thingies) The situation left me wondering who the medicine was really for; the kid or the mom.

Perco-Hell

I’m going to call yesterday Perco-hell. We must have done five or six percocet rx’s within a 2-hour period. Two of them came at almost the same time.

One of them didn’t have a DEA number (and we didn’t even have it on file) so I had to call the doctor’s office. The “nurse” that answered the phone told me she wasn’t authorized to give that information out, but to go ahead and fill the script because it was valid. (What school did she go to where they think that’s acceptable?)

The other one had the date 5/22 without a year. It was from the hospital, where the patient had given birth. So, we asked to speak to the ob/gyn who had seen her (since we couldn’t read the doctor’s name, of course). He said she had been discharged on 5/22/07, but he didn’t remember writing a script for percocet. “But I’ll ok it anyway. Here’s my DEA number…”

After those and a few other perco scripts, our supply for the long holiday weekend was brought perilously low. I hope there aren’t a lot of car accidents.

Druggie Saga – Part I

Yesterday, I had a patient come in with a prescription for Percocet 5/325 #120. The script looked good, so I went to the logbook to see if we had it. We hade plenty of Endocet (our normal brand), but before I told him that, I looked at his profile.

All he had ever gotten was Roxicet (which of course, we don’t have enough of.) He also had a note in his profile: “Watch out. Mean patient.”

So, I informed him that we didn’t have it. He didn’t seem surprised. “You never do,” he said. So why the F do you always come here?! He asked if I could call another pharmacy in our chain. Remembering the note in his profile, I said yes, when normally I would say no.

I got connected straight to the pharmacist. She asked who it was for, knowing I usually don’t call. I told her, and she knew the patient. “Even though we have it, tell him we don’t.” Whew, ok, I’ll send him packing.

“Can you call another pharmacy?”

By this point, I figured the guy shouldn’t be getting it, so when I called the next pharmacy, I turned my head and whispered, “Tell me you don’t have it.” The technician giggles, and says, “Oh, yeah, we don’t have it.” I thanked her and said goodbye.

He then asked me to call another pharmacy. “They usually have it,” he says. I just gritted my teeth and clenched my hands, and said, “Sure.”

As I waited for the third pharmacy to pick up, I looked at the script more closely, and the stupid doctor had written 1/26/04! (Like I said earlier, it looked ok, and it was in good condition, so it obviously wasn’t two years old.)

I wasn’t quite ready to confront the patient with this information, so I went ahead and asked if the other pharmacy had it, repeating my whisper. Well, this time I was put on hold, so I just faked it. While still on hold, I said, “Oh, you don’t have it either? Oh, well. Thanks anyway. Bye.”

So, I pretended at that point to just happen to notice the date. The patient was mad, but thankfully his anger was directed at the doctor, not me. Oh yeah, did I mention the doctor’s office was closed for the weekend?

I love (read: sometimes hate) working in a pharmacy.

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