My latest acquaintance as a patient is with a pain-management doctor for my "lumbago." In his waiting room is a terse sign informing patients that if they are more than 15 minutes late for an appointment, they will be rescheduled for another time. At least, in the case of this physician, I was taken within a few minutes of my appointed time, unlike some medical folks who keep me waiting all morning. But, the situation underscored for me the different paradigms: people have to wait for the doctor, but they do not have to wait for the pharmacist. Access to a physician is under controlled conditions, usually by appointment only and guarded by several storm-trooper staff members, usually nurses who could tell the Homeland Security a thing or two about how to improve the Nation's anti-terrorist rules. Not so in the community pharmacy, where people feel free to barge in, interrupt, yell at, and even throw vials at you.
Why does this difference in respect go on? I must admit that a recent predatory poster to one of the pharmacy blogs said something that rang true. In so many words, he said that pharmacists have a hard time getting past the perception that they are clerks. Doctor of Pharmacy, counseling, and drug use evaluation mandates aside, all the public sees--even in the year 2008--is a group of people putting pills into bottles. As many a truth is said in jest, the jokesters like to chide us as being "pill pushers," and that zinger reveals a belief in what we are to them.
The media compound the felony. On video, pharmacy is usually represented by a spatula gliding across a blue Abbott counting tray, and nothing more. The camera doesn't even show the faces of the staff, just the pesky dosage forms rolling along. There is no surgeon's scalpel, no uniformed nurse, no image of healthcare rescue. On the European and Australian blogs, pharmacists refer to their pharmacy as a "shop." Doctors practice on you, but when you go to a pharmacy, you are just shopping. They're clerks.
Pharmacists' interventions often make a big difference in the patients' drug therapy, but they are usually uncelebrated, and often take place behind the scenes. And, they are undramatic. Successful prevention does not register in people's memories as effectively as successful rescue or cure. And, when a drug is withheld from the patient by the pharmacist, even for sound clinical reasons, it is perceived by many patients, and even by many prescribers and nurses, as deprivation, not as service. The duties contained in the practice of pharmacy are too often discounted by non-pharmacists of all types, lay or professional.
All of this leaves the patient, marching into the pharmacy on a prescription mission, ready once again to rag on the healthcare professionals on duty in the "shop." They have just come from genuflecting at the altar of medicine, and now that their "religious" healthcare dealings are over for the day, they are ready to try their luck on the pharmacy midway. There should be some guy in a straw hat and a striped jacket stationed in the store, handing out baseballs and bellowing,"Step right up and see if you can dunk the pharmacist!" To those of you who are rushing in to say I am wrong, and that you respect what we do, I must break the news to you that you are in a small minority.