Pharmacy Fun!

After I got home this morning, I had an english muffin and some coffee before my dentist appointment. The sole purpose of the appointment was to either have the wisdom tooth that is bothering me removed, or to get something for the pain. The last bottle of Percocet given to me, 12 in all, lasted me about two weeks. But I still have two weeks until my appt. with the oral
surgeon.

My dentist looked at me this morning and said, in an attractive Eastern European accent that I can't quite place, "You have some swelling and an infection, so I'm going to leave it to [the oral surgeon] to pull. In the meantime, I'll give you something for the pain."

So basically, my little trip to the dentist was going to plan. Since I'm actually in pain, the urge to seek a high by taking five or six Percocet is gone. In other words, I really am in pain, and don't want to run out of pills before the date of surgery.

She gave me a script for 15 Percocet, and I went to have it filled at a chain pharmacy across the street. I dropped it off, and they told me it would be 10 minutes. So I went out for a little walk to kill the time, picked up the paper and read the funnies, and then went back to the pharmacy to find that the script had been cancelled. I prepared myself for an explanation. Years of being insane and more than my fair share of medical problems has prepared me for just about anything from a pharmacist.

Here's what happened...two weeks ago I got a prescription filled for a non-narcotic pain
killer, tramadol. It's an almost useless drug that does little for pain, and won't provide a high, no matter how many are taken. That's why they give it to me for an unrelated pain I have, no chance of abuse. Anyway, the pharmacist said, "That should be enough for the tooth pain." I told her that it wouldn't do anything for the tooth pain, because I cannot take it, due to an interaction with an anti-depressant I'm also taking, Venlafaxine. Taking them together has already caused one seizure in the past, and my psychiatrist told me to never take them on the same day. So while I'm investigating how efficacious venlafaxine is (also known as Effexor), I can't take tramadol (also known as Ultram). So the pharmacist responded with, "Then why did you pick it up on April 10th?" This is when I started to get angry. I reached into my pocket and took out three 1mg lorazepam (for panic/anxiety attacks) and popped them. "Because," I answered, "I didn't know about the interaction until I actually picked up the tramadol. The interaction warning was written on the monograph. At home right now, I have a bottle of 100 tramadol that I can't and won't take unless I stop taking venlafaxine. That's why they are useless for my current toothache, and thus need something else...like Percocet."

Upon learning this, the pharmacist suddenly lost her arrogance, and then told me to go back to the dentist. "But this time, " she lectured, "tell her all the drugs you are taking. Because this looks sort of suspicious." Well, that did it. I said, "She KNOWS all the drugs I'm taking. Since I'm NOT taking tramadol, I didn't tell her about it. You want me to tell her about all the drugs I'm NOT taking, you glorified cashier?"

At that point I realized that I was going to have to leave. But I was so pissed at that "suspicious" line. Tramadol is a non-narcotic. And my infected tooth and swollen jaw were enough to compell a dentist to give me just enough Percocet to get me through to the surgery date. I felt a little like Julianne Moore in "Magnolia." Just a little.

Anyway, I'm over it. My dentist apologized and offered to call in some Vicodin. To my astonishment, I told her not to. "I don't blame you at all, but I'm too angry to pursue this any further. I can live with it. If it gets too painful, I'll pull it myself." She advised me not to, but I have to admit that that option gets more appealing with every passing day with this toothache.

Maybe the Three Stooges were on to something with that string tied to a doorknob thing.