Like son, like mother

Before the real post … first, the Superintendent for the school district emailed me at 6:55 AM yesterday, Sunday, to tell me that the issue with Pearlsky’s therapies would be dealt with first thing Monday. Then today, Monday, the Assistant Superintendent for Student Services called. She apologized all over the place, she already called Easter Seals to get an OT and PT, promised compensatory services, and said all the right things. But in the end, Pearlsky still does not have her therapies … we will see.

I am sitting at home, minding my own business, Sunday night. Mom calls.

I don’t know how upset to be about something.

What’s up?

Your dad is on a new medicine for Parkinson’s. They keep adjusting it by half pill amounts. On Friday I called for a refill and was told it would be ready Saturday. I went in today for it and there was a substitute pharmacist. She said they were out of the pill but she gave me four pills that look entirely different, in an unlabeled bottle, and said they would hold us over until tomorrow.

Describe them.

I get on this new fangled thing, the Internet. Damn. I go right to my favorite link for such instances The Pill Identifier. Mom first describes the right pill just so I know exactly what I am dealing with. I find it immediately. Then the new pill. Turns out, it is the same chemical, but it is twice the strength and “controlled release.”

I log into mom’s computer remotely (really easy) and print out both pages for her, tell her not to give the pills to dad, and to go to the pharmacy tomorrow. I did not have to tell her to give them shit a hard time. I’m her kid.

She calls me this morning. The store manager and head pharmacist were very upset about it; made all sorts of promises. Some of the worst parts … they actually had the correct pills in stock, the regular pharmacist should have filled it on Saturday, … They promised to get back to mom with how they are going to handle this. Mom says she even said “My son is very upset about this and I don’t know what he plans on doing.” Smart lady, no?

A few hours later, a higher level manager called mom (it is a chain of four stores). She assured mom that the pharmacist was being “reported” and asked mom if they should fire her. What an f-ed up question to ask, don’t put that on my mom. They asked what they could do to make it right. Mom did not know how to answer other than to get a promise that if she kept her business there, only the lead pharmacist would touch their stuff. They agreed.

Mom called me. I had her call them back and insist to see a copy of the report they send to the State Board of Pharmacy. That ensures they will file one (or we will). Then I told her to let it go … nothing else to do. She has enough on her plate (thanks, God).

Throughout the 80’s and 90’s every pharmacist in the country knew my dad’s name. He was head of domestic distribution for several large pharmaceutical companies, any fax to any pharmacy about such drugs as Tenormin, tamoxifen, or in the past, Mylanta and more, all had his name and signature. And now, this crap. Yech.


  1. By Roxanne


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