The Cylinder Conundrum

So, NBC has really screwed the pooch on the whole Leno/Conan/Fallon thing. Conan, bless his heart, has really stepped up his monologue to stick it to executives before he forces their hand (a hand clutching $40 million dollars in contract buyout severance – Bwahahaha!). Letterman has also got in his stabs. I thought I would have a go at trying to be both pithy and clever… It seems to me that the station’s acronym should now stand for Notoriously Breaching Contracts or Now Bumping Conan. To Leno it should be Never Be Carson, or at the very least, Nothing But Chin. I know - that was lame…

Moving on to pharmacy happenings, I present one of the latest. There is a family of either druggies or dealers – we are not quite sure. They share the name of a certain three dimensional geometric figure, I will refer to them as…The Cylinders. The Cylinders purchase many of the items one would find in your local Crackheads R Us store (Vicodin, Flexeril, Adderall, Soma, Ultram, Vyvanse, etc.). Needless to say, their family medicine cabinet has a lovely rainbow of illicit drugs.

Well, the other day the younger brother calls advising me (how sweet) to contact his doctor to get a refill of tramadol. I roll my eyes, and tell the delightful minion of Satan that I will call his doctor – but merely to buy time to investigate the matter. I pull up young Cylinder’s profile and notice he filled an Rx for the very drug only one week prior, but pain medication can be written to be completely dispensed in just a few days so I pull up the prescription to have a look-see at the directions. It was “1TPOQDPP”, which I am sure you all recognize as “Take one tablet by mouth every day as needed for pain”.

It should last a month, and the little cracked-lip, throat-scratcher is asking to fill it after one week. Hell to the no! I confirm with the bearded one that we will not comply with his wishes and become the middle supplier to his drug ring. I try to call him out of combination of a little bit of courtesy and a larger bit of gloating. His number has been disconnected – big shock.

He calls back later, and our lovely “lead technician” does me the “favor” of letting Mr. Cylinder hold until I get back from the bathroom to answer his call (YAY!). I tell him we will fill his prescription when his other one runs out – next month. His reply was something like, “BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, boo-freaking-hoo, whiny-whiny-cry-cry…” “Why?” he kept asking. He then tells me he is a pharmacy technician. I manage to avoid laughing at him, crying with big, fat tears of utter amusement, dropping the phone because of moron-induced convulsions, and (finally) hitting my head on the counter and passing out. Mr. Cylinder tells me that we have to honor an order from a doctor, we cannot refuse a non-controlled prescription, and other ways of saying we are being unfair meanie-heads full of poop…

I tell him various ways of “No” for fifteen minutes before he demands to talk with the pharmacist. The bearded one also tells him “No”, and he hangs up the phone. End of dilemma…

…or not! His older brother gets a different doctor to call in cyclobenzaprine (a muscle relaxer) the next day. Unfortunately for both Cylinders, the bearded one is once again manning the counter above the narcotics safe. Senor beard-o one-o (that’s how you write it in Spanish) explained to the doctor what kind of drugs he gets and how often he gets them. The doctor changed his mind and denied any more prescriptions! The cherry on top of this drug-stuffed cake – the older brother came in to pick up his younger brother’s medicine, and we got to tell him that the doctor doesn’t want to give him any more drugs! YAY! Druggie denied!

Until next time…