Mon 11 Aug 2008
The voice on the other end of the phone line seemed distracted. First, she had to finish up with a prior conversation before she could talk with me. I could tell that she was not holding the phone near her mouth.
When she finally got to me, she said, “I want to call in a prescription for mumble mumble mumble.”
“I’m sorry. I do not hear you very well.” I had the phone pressed to my ear, but I still could not make out everything she was saying. My 67 year old badge has dents in it, but it is still shiny. Most of me is in pretty good shape, but there is a sizeable nick on the medal for EARS. They are 67 years old and an investment in an expensive sound system would be wasted on my ears. Saves me a bunch of money. My aural acuity is compromised.
I am not alone. There are plenty of pharmacists out there who do not hear as well as they did a few decades ago. But get us on a conversation where the information imparted is critical to a patient, we better get it right.
This is what happened when I could not understand what this doctor was trying to order for a patient named mumble mumble mumble.
“I can’t hear you,” I repeated.
She sighed a frustrated sigh. I could hear that. She tried again to get the same result. I knew what the problem was.
“Please put the phone closer to your mouth,” I said, “I can’t hear you.”
“I know how to use a telephone, honey.” Those words I heard very well. She DID put the phone closer to her mouth for the “honey” sentence, but the rest was mumble mumble mumble.
“Please, doctor. Cooperate with me. I want your patient to get exactly what you want, in the correct dose with the correct instructions. I can’t do that if I cannot understand what you are saying.”
“I’ll go slower,” she said with another sigh. “Mumble mumble mumble.”
“Slower doesn’t matter,” I squealed. “You just have to put the phone closer to your mouth.”
“I don’t HAVE to do anything. You HAVE to listen.”
“I’ll listen as best as I can. So far, I don’t even know who the patient is.”
“I told you twice.”
“But you did not have the phone near your mouth. I did not get the patient’s name.”
There was a silence. “Oh forget it,” she said and hung up.
Now, I do not know what happened next. Did she whine to the patient about the pharmacist and suggest a second pharmacy? Did she call back later WITH THE PHONE CLOSER TO HER MOUTH? Perhaps she called when I was at lunch and talked to a pharmacist with 50 something ears. Did the patient have to go without?
All of those possibilities would have caused her time and effort. All she had to do was PUT THE DAMN PHONE CLOSER TO HER MOUTH. Stubbornness is an alternative ONLY when the result is not that important. We are talking about pharmaceuticals. Controlled poisons! Put practically ANY pharmaceutical on a plate and take enough of it often enough and you are dead. We are not talking about an expensive floral display. With controlled poisons, we absolutely have to get it right. You would think that getting it right would always be the goal of the prescriber.
I got that this was a youngish doctor. Her manner was imperious. Her voice was haughty and bossy. Nothing she did made me respect her. She failed in her most important job. ACT SO THAT THE PHARMACIST WANTS TO HELP YOU.
There is enough in this little essay to keep us talking for awhile. In the end, however, it is patient care we are talking about. If the patient did not get the medicine that was needed in a timely manner, is it my fault? I know that I might have sounded impatient, but I raised two daughters and trying to get this doctor to cooperate with me was like getting my daughters to cooperate when it came to their chores.
My contention is that she exhibited gross impatience. She put her opinion of herself right at the top of the list. Her ego is what said, “Oh forget it.” I
I wonder how long it will be before she grows up a little and makes things easier for herself. They can’t be that effortless with the attitude she shows. I’d bet that the nurses make her pay. Women can do that. Men will tolerate her attitude, but nurses (mostly women) will trash her trail with glass.
I would have loved to help her out, but she never even gave me her name.