Rage Against the Machine

Rage Against the Machine once said 'Anger is a gift.' If that is true, consider me extremely gifted. I am one blessed pharmacist if this is the case. I have yet to hear someone attempt to disprove my claims of being quick to anger.

Now, as much as I would love to punch every other person that walks into my pharmacy straight in the teeth, laws and some other bullshit like that prevent me from doing so. Nor can I jab them in the ear with my counting spatula. (It fits, and don't ask me how I know.) So anyways, I pretty much spend each subsequent day building on the anger and rage carried over from the day prior. As they say, necessity is the mother of all invention, I think today I had an epiphany on how to cope with this infinite rage.

I strongly believe in property rights, and that people have a right and responsibility to protect their property. Furthermore, we the people cannot always rely on the government to protect our property, so, we must protect it ourselves at times.

From now on, I will park my car, armed with a wake-the-dead alarm, with a stack of cash and empty bottles of Oxycontin in plain sight. Someone (we get plenty of addicts, and this ain't exactly Beverly Hills out here) will surely try to break into my car. And when they do, trust you me, I will be thankful. They will experience the fury of a thousand bitchy patients. The anger pent up from a million rejected claims. The murderous blood lust caused by standing on my feet for the better part of my 20s while the idiotic public yells at me for no good fucking reason. I swear, people treat stray cats better than they do pharmacists.

So anyways, as I pummel this douche, I stop just short of death, feel the most divine happiness transcend upon me and have one purely, blissful moment, completely void of rage and anger. Then the anger comes rushing back as I have to listen to my victim whine and cry with pain. Pussy. I throw him a bottle of the Oxycontin he was trying to fill. He will yell and me when he realizes it was empty the whole time. I will laugh.

And that my friends, is the perfect solution to my problem.

Pick a speed!

Okay, this has nothing to do with pharmacy, but it angers me just as much.

Like most people, I like to speed. I generally like to go about 5 to 7 MPH over the limit. Why? Because I have better fucking things to do than sit in my car. So, when I get behind someone doing the limit, or what I deem to be just under, my blood pressure starts to raise. But hey, maybe they are drunk. Maybe they have warrents issued for their arrest. Whatever their reason may be, they don't want to get pulled over, and I can respect that. If I had a dead body in the trunk of my car, I'm certain I would be extra cautious and mindful of my local traffic laws.

But the one thing I cannot wrap my mind around is the person completely oblivious to the current speed limit. They are out for a cruise, and they don't give a shit what the limit is. Hell, they can be on the freeway, which is easy to determine and clearly has a high speed limit, it don't matter, if they want to go 40, they go 40. They may exit and keep going 40 in the new 25 MPH zone. The cardinal sign of this type of driver is their window. No, not the glass ones surrounding their interior. The speed window. The range of speeds they seemingly aim to stay between. It generally falls around 17 to 51 MPH. And you never know where in range they will be at any given moment.

So if this driver is you, and you see a black Ford Taurus pull up behind you and some guy is screaming to what you would assume is death metal, its me and I want you to die. At least that way you would likely pull off the road.

Move bitch, get out the way.

I really have nothing better to do

Holy shit was I ever in a bad mood yesterday. Here's why...

I get this patient in the door (right as we are closing) with five new scripts for diabetes type 2 meds. Sure whatever. All and well. ACEI, check, statin, check, looking good, except for the thiazolidinedione (glitazone you idiots) that is twice the recommended maximum daily dosage. I understand those maxes are only well researched guidelines that aren't always set in stone. I'll even admit that the physician probably knows more about diabetes than me (although probably not true). However, he has no history of using a glitazone, his other diabetes treatments aren't maxed out, and all of this is a bit much to a drug naive patient.

So anyways, I call the MD in the morning. MD is gone. MD only works one day a month. I get the PA who quickly realizes the error, admits it was more than likely a mistake, a transcription error, something. He changes it, makes great recommendations and promises to follow up with the patient and MD. Meanwhile the patient calls the MD. MD says, I am your doctor, fuck that pharmacist, I am your doctor, do what I said.

Fuck you assclown. He gets all glib on my ass and thanks me for my concern (yeah right, fuck you too) but says that his doc is the best.

Yes, all MDs are inherently blessed with knowing everything about medications. I know dick, the FDA and their flimsy guidelines mean dick, and because your doctor said its okay, then it must be so. Sorry to bother you with my concern for your well being. Trust me, captain, it will never happen again.

Matter of fact, that MD goes straight to my 'do not question list.' You, Dr. Sassypants, you write it, you scribe it, they get it. I pray I get a script that has a 'pr' in place of 'po'. "Sorry sir, your doctor said you can cram it up your ass.'

I hope you get heart failure.