Chemist Bullies.

A few days ago, I was at one of my weekly hospital visits - checking on baby, managing pain relief, checking my vitals ect.
Severe SPD poses a serious dilemma for the OBGYN's and other doctors that deal with me. They have to navigate the difficult path of feeding me with the strongest pain killers they can, whilst making sure bubs has as little risk to addiction as possible. At this last visit, it was decided we cut the codeine out of my daily pill regime, and swap the Endone for Oxycodone - the 12 hour slow release pain killer.
This was not a choice that was entered into lightly. I sat in the assessment unit, Luke holding my hand, strapped to the foetal monitor. It was showing our son in distress. The shocking pain (at a level now, if I'm to be perfectly honest, where my mental health is beginning to suffer) was making my body not a nice place to be - making bubs very agitated.
The doctors do not want to induce before 37 weeks unless 100% necessary (understandable, especially as bubs is on the very small side of normal), and so the OBGYN who was dealing with me, paged two others to get second and third opinions. That's three specialists assessing the best thing to do. And so the Oxycodone was prescribed, bubs was monitored until the pain relief had kicked in and he started to relax, and then we left to go and cash our script in at the hospital pharmacy.

I should point out, I loathe this pharmacy.
It is constantly understaffed, the wait times are excessively ridiculous, and I have had endless issues getting my medication from these people. Every single time I have put in a script for painkillers I get messed around.
Up until this time, the most memorable incident being when my Daddy took me to my appointment. I was in my wheelchair, and we had handed in the script, been given our numbered ticket, and gone to wait in the waiting area. After 20 minutes we were called up, seemingly to collect my medication, only to be told that we couldn't be issued with the drugs as the script was not 'filled out properly'. I was shocked, thinking in her rush the doctor must have forgotten to sign it or something like that, but no. What this clerk meant, was that in the column where the number of pills was to be written, the doctor had only written '20'. Only using numerals. Apparently she was meant to write '20 twenty', and write it in letters too.
Now, seeing as the doctor's personal number was written on the script, you would think that the pharmacy could've just called upstairs to confirm, but no. Instead, they sent the wheelchair lady and her Dad back up another 3 levels to track down the doctor ourselves. We were to get them to stop whatever they were doing,  just to write 'twenty' on the script. Of course, as Murphy's Law predicts, she was in theatre, so one of the nurses just wrote it in for us. We should have just done it ourselves to save the messing about.
But there you have it - that's how incompetent this chemist is.

But back to the story...
Luke was helping me hobble to the 'scripts in' end of the pharmacy (we had stupidly left the wheelchair in our housemate's car) and with much whimpering, we approached the counter. The script was collected, our numbered ticket given out, and we took a seat in the waiting area.
About 30 minutes later we were called up. Everything seemed to be going well, and I had just handed over the cash to pay, when the pharmacy girl asked;
"Are you pregnant or breastfeeding?"
"Yes, I'm pregnant."
"Does your doctor know about this?!"
"....Well, I would assume so. It's a little hard to hide!" I patted my basketball-sized belly, and smiled.
"This is a very strong drug. It could be very harmful. I'm just not comfortable giving it to you. I will have to check with my superior."
I rolled my eyes, calmed the very frustrated Luke, and we waited. A few minutes later she returned,
"Look, I know that two OB's have signed off on this script, but I'm just not comfortable. This drug poses serious risks!"
I went on to explain my condition, and the fact that baby and I were being monitored closely. I explained I knew the risks - it was the same for both of us - withdrawal. And plans for an extended stay for bubs and I to detox had been discussed, if it was deemed necessary.
But this woman wouldn't budge. She was actually greasing me now, making me feel like a monster for exposing my baby to these medications. She wouldn't give in. She took the script, left the pharmacy and walked straight past us, greasing as she went, on her way to the maternity clinic, clearly trying to find proof that I shouldn't be given these drugs.
Now, I'm no genius, but, A) What is the point of getting a doctor (let alone a specialist, and let alone two specialists) to sign off, giving consent on a script if the sales clerk at the pharmacy is going to question it, and B) Who the fuck was this woman to question the knowledge of these trained professionals in the first place?
She came back, and would you believe it, got on the phone, obviously  unhappy with the answer she had received in clinic. By this point I was in agony, unable to sit as we had been told to wait at the window, and I was leaning at the counter while Luke rubbed my back and whispered all the things he would like to say to this woman, if he thought for a second he could get away with it.
Finally she returns to the window, "Hmm, it seems your OBGYN's (note that, you rat-faced-axe-wound. OBGYN'S. Plural. Two doctors) have agreed this is the best drug for your 'condition' *she looks me up and down, not believing there is anything wrong with me*. And evidently the midwives have assured me you know the risks, and have a plan in place should they occur."
I stood there blinking, and said nothing as she gave over my meds. I had said all of this at the start!
I did not have to spend half an hour on my feet with a separated pelvis that was buckling under the weight of bubs, for this snail trail to run around and pretend to be a doctor. She had actively gone through every avenue possible to deny me the medication. That was not her job.
I mean, with no script, if was asking for something over the counter that could pose a risk, that's fine. You have the right to deny me. But with a script? Not just signed by a GP, but by two specialists? You have no right to make me beg for drugs. Because that's effectively what I heard myself doing. Begging for drugs. Drugs that should have been handed over, without all the nasty looks from Axe-Wound-Sue and the other pharmacy girls who she was talking to. It made me feel horrible - like a bad Mum.
But then I remember how many professionals are working with me, and that they all agree (especially seeing what our son does when my body is in so much pain) that this medication is the best choice, and I feel better.

I'm not entirely sure what I meant to achieve with this post. I think I just needed to vent.
Except that if you do work at a pharmacy, I will say this; Don't question a doctor's script (unless you think it's a fake of course). It is your job to correctly dispense the drugs, not prescribe them.

And don't make heavily pregnant, shaking-with-pain ladies cry in public, it's a real dick move.