Xrayser hopeful number 3: I’ve had enough of the drug life
An encounter with the patients from hell had our third Xrayser candidate questioning their own reality
I did not choose this drug life…
Picking self and head up while slowly sighing to inform the regular substance user that their beautiful blue had not made it, only to get sprayed with a dash of colourful abuse laden with saliva and remnants unchewed food.
Here is when you thank a higher power for the face mask you’re wearing. Close your eyes so the spittle shoots on top of the eyelids, not inside them – this is the kind of self-defence strategy I take pride in in the pharmacy ghetto. Let’s face it, COVID-19 is just so yesterday.
All this to deal with while another extremely entitled human is silently screaming bloody murder over an overpriced antihistamine that took a tad longer than normal to arrive.
Excuse the reality check, but there could be many reasons for this. A shortage of drivers, a lack of raw material because there’s a war on, or even Brexit. The mind boggles.
I did, however, dish out advice along the lines of “thou shalt not operate heavy machinery” and called it evens.
This particular specimen, however, was not having any of it. They demanded an apology on behalf of the entire NHS instead. At this point, I fleetingly regretted what was – I think – exemplary advice.
To eyeroll or not to eyeroll was my personal ethical dilemma. Can we make this into a case study please? Patience being a virtue is the biggest lie ever sold.
Please bear in mind that this was a day screaming ‘staff shortage’. Because people working away behind the scenes could have varying degrees of crisis of their own.
But why would anyone care so long as, their (not entirely) essential medication is well timed, so they don’t have to miss a day in the future?
Of course, hoarding and shortages are a complete myth, and you will not convince me otherwise.
Despite evidence to the contrary, there was a highlight to my day. Our very own toothless fairy realised that our struggle was real and offered to buy me a coffee, while ensuring that it would not be laced with hemlock.
I battled the overwhelming urge to grab the offer with both hands and politely refused.
I was, however, very much touched to the point of blubbing at the gesture – although this could even have been a wave of hysteria; small difference – and extremely sceptical of it being laced with spit/poison. After all, this was the least of my worries.
Now, before I go and balance the forever unbalanced books, will the next toothless fairy please spit up?
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