A Long Time Coming

Yesterday the FDA announced that Plan B will finally be available over-the-counter. As with most government beauroracy, there are strings attached. Plan B's access is limited to individuals aged 18 and over. Personally, I'm more concerned about a 15 year old being pregnant than I am about a 22 year old being pregnant...but apparently this never crossed the mind of the FDA. Individuals under the age of 18 can still obtain Plan B, but they will have to go to a physician to get a prescription. Thankfully the only requirements to obtain Plan B from the pharmacy for those over 18 is just a valid ID. Even men can purchase the product if they are over 18. Even though the act that allows Plan B to be sold OTC was effective yesterday, Plan B will not be available OTC until the product's company can meet the OTC labeling requirements. In layman terms, this means that the labeling on the Plan B package in words the average adult can read and understand. While I don't agree with the restrictions to access for individuals under age 18, I am very happy that Plan B has finally been given OTC status. My only concern is that access is going to be restricted by those pharmacists who believe it is their job to push their supposed "morals" on potential purchasers...

Saying Goodbye at 25

This past week my hometown laid to rest another victim of the war in Iraq - Steven Seale. I was at work when the funeral took place, but the next day our newspaper was laden with photos of it. One of the photos contained a picture of a guy that was my Chemistry II partner in high school. He was embracing Steven Seale's girlfriend after the funeral. It was chilling to say the least. Personally, I think funerals are a private affair and should not be plastered across the newspaper. Several community members stood along the road that the funeral procession went down. There were tiny American flags lining the road. Several law enforcement officers also stood proudly along the route. People took their hats off as the casket past, some soluted - but I think it's safe to say that most choked back tears. It's always sad when someone has to say goodbye at the age of 25. He leaves behind a family stricken with grief, several close friends, a girlfriend, and sadly, a small daughter.

"I'm no addict - now give me my damn methadone!"

Today marks day #6 in Outpatient Hell. I realized that I was standing on the brink of Hell today when I was being cursed at by a man in a wheelchair, who wasn't really handicapped. Apparently, he was able to ride his motorcycle all the way from DC to get methadone at our facility...but needed a wheelchair to maneuver his way around the hospital. When asked about his pain in relation to the motorcycle, he quickly told the ER doc that he modified his bike to not cause him pain. He then showed up in my counseling booth wanting to know why he didn't have any methadone. I told him that I don't write it, I just fill it. He then told me he was going into withdrawal right then and there and made his eyes roll back in his head. When I told him that he needed to return to the ER to get his methadone, his eyes magically stopped rolling in his head and he headed out of the pharmacy in high gear. This lovely little man reappeared in my freaking window no less than an hour later...damning the entire facility to Hell. I was even on his list. I wanted to say, "Take your damn methadone and shove it up your addict ass!" But...alas, I did not. I smiled sweetly and told him that if he didn't lower his voice, I would not fill his Valium. He shut up and apologized. Ah, the calming power of Valium. I finally shooed him away. Other memorable patients today included the patient who almost knocked himself out on the glass in my counseling booth; the guy who had a cold so he stood up and yelled through the glass at me (consequently spraying his spit all over my glass - which was better than all over my face), and the female whore with an STD (she was wearing a see-thru shirt and pants so tight I could've bounced my pen off her ass...and she wanted to know why everyone was staring...shit).

You're Beautiful

Today I had the honor of meeting one of the most famous vets at our facility. This 21yo man survived a mortar attack on a humvee. He was brought to our facility in 2004 unresponsive, attached to feeding tubes, and paralyzed. His parents were told he would never walk again. After being medically stabilized, he was placed in our nursing home at the age of 20. Today he's in the mainstream program - a program aimed at teaching traumatic brain injury patients life skills so they can return to society. JW presented to my window today to pick up his medicines for pass. Every weekend he leaves the facility to go home to his parents - and to go to the local dirt track races. As soon as he walked through the double doors, I knew who he was. He walks with a walker and has gross motor tremors in his arms. I had worked on his case when I was in-patient, so it was great to finally put a face with a name. When he sat down in my booth, we discovered that the doctor had not put in his pass medication orders. I called the doctor and requested the orders. While we were waiting for them to be input, JW and I struck up a conversation. After talking for a few minutes he asked if he could tell me something without offending me. I told him that I'm not easily offended and that he could speak his mind. He leaned in my window and said, "You're very pretty." I smiled and thanked him. The conversation then turned to my marriage status, then dating status, and finally my age. I could quickly see where this was headed, so I tried to steer the conversation in another direction. This was not successful. JW asked me to go on a date with him. I told him that we'd both get in trouble for dating since I'm an employee and he's a patient. JW, who is very aware of his physical status, said, "Is it because of my condition?" That was heart wrenching. I explained that it had absolutely NOTHING to do with his condition. He then asked me to quit my job. HA! He's a character to say the least. We talked for several more minutes. He shook my hand, and again told me I was beautiful. I could only get him to leave my booth window by explaining that there were lots of other patients waiting to see me. He agreed and reluctantly left my booth - bidding me farewell and holding my hand.

Consequently, I've spent some time this evening reflecting on him and my previous post on this site. I think the most frustrating thing of all is that JW would not be in this condition if we weren't engaged in a political war in Iraq. I get sick of the Republican mantra that you can't support the troops if you don't support the war. That is such crap! This war has brought civil war to Iraq and left American men and women damaged for life. This damage is far more than physical disabilities and deformities...it's the psychological damage that comes from seeing the horrors of war. Not is JW physically disabled, but he is also pyschologically damaged. He has vivid nightmares. He has trouble functioning in groups. It's incredibly sad. And the saddest part is that JW was simply a pawn in Bush's political war.