Long Distance
Saturday, June 21, 2008
My feet aren't sore, and this gladdens me greatly. In fact, despite all the walking I managed to get a single blister. It hasn't popped, and is unlikely to, unless I try to wear some sort of new-fangled winklepickers in the next day or so. I love my new shoes and trail socks.
The Airlie trip was a success; the Medical Misadventures had a blast, covered plenty of kilometers and morale is high. We also managed some walking under the cover of darkness, which was an essential experience given the timing of the challenge itself. Four weeks to go!
This post is about the beauty of the long distance counsel, and whilst it's actually been six days since I cranked out a long-distance counsel (LDC), (it's that long since I've worked), they are quite possibly the greatest mass-communication tool in pharmacy. Possibly.
The long distance counsel is not for the faint-hearted or self-conscious. (Or possibly those without other hyphenated personality traits). It is not for those whom know not of which they speak.
Here's how it rolls; a patient rolls up to the register and loudly asks a question. There's often a good story provided, and the person's clearly not shy about what their problem is. The shop assistant looks a little confused and glances my way; I have a line of 'scripts longer than the distance from Marathon to Athens.
The essence of the LDC is distance. The person needs a counsel, but as they've waived their 'here and now' confidentiality rights by talking at the shop-girl loud enough for you to hear from 10 meters away (and the issue isn't particularly sensitive), you counsel them from said distance. Usually, this will occur across at least two dispensary benches and/or 10+ meters. It's like a public service announcement. With style.
The patient's complaint or question is rare enough that not every moron who watches TV had cottoned on to what it is, but it will still have a bit of practical application to the rest of the punters. A good example here is worms;
Pt: My kid's got worms. They got them off the dog, and now they've got an itchy head.
Clearly, this patient is an idiot.
Cue the long distance counsel; "Okay, we need to work out if you kid's got one of three things: fleas, worms or lice. Here's how you tell them apart: the worms that you get in Australia aren't from dogs. And they'll have an itchy bum and that's where you'll see them. Lice are mites that are running around the head. They lay eggs, and both the lice and eggs are small, like a fullstop. Unless you see them running around, the treatment's pretty easy. Fleas are common in dogs, and may be transmissible. They're bigger, say the size of a hyphen, and there'll be truck loads."
So, eight sentences that clarify three common infestations. What the shop girls hear is; "The kid's got fleas, worms or lice. Worms are unlikely. The customer will now tell you which one their kid has; ask me if you can't remember the treatment."
I reckon that one of the other strong points of the LDC is that they're frequently incidental, and the customers feel good that the pharmacist is actually listening to whatever else is going on in the store. The rest of the young mums and dads, waiting on their Efexor and Ventolin, listen in and everyone's more informed by the experience.
I guess that's the thing about most pharmacies; the patients don't ask, the pharmacists don't ask. More questions people.
The Airlie trip was a success; the Medical Misadventures had a blast, covered plenty of kilometers and morale is high. We also managed some walking under the cover of darkness, which was an essential experience given the timing of the challenge itself. Four weeks to go!
This post is about the beauty of the long distance counsel, and whilst it's actually been six days since I cranked out a long-distance counsel (LDC), (it's that long since I've worked), they are quite possibly the greatest mass-communication tool in pharmacy. Possibly.
The long distance counsel is not for the faint-hearted or self-conscious. (Or possibly those without other hyphenated personality traits). It is not for those whom know not of which they speak.
Here's how it rolls; a patient rolls up to the register and loudly asks a question. There's often a good story provided, and the person's clearly not shy about what their problem is. The shop assistant looks a little confused and glances my way; I have a line of 'scripts longer than the distance from Marathon to Athens.
The essence of the LDC is distance. The person needs a counsel, but as they've waived their 'here and now' confidentiality rights by talking at the shop-girl loud enough for you to hear from 10 meters away (and the issue isn't particularly sensitive), you counsel them from said distance. Usually, this will occur across at least two dispensary benches and/or 10+ meters. It's like a public service announcement. With style.
The patient's complaint or question is rare enough that not every moron who watches TV had cottoned on to what it is, but it will still have a bit of practical application to the rest of the punters. A good example here is worms;
Pt: My kid's got worms. They got them off the dog, and now they've got an itchy head.
Clearly, this patient is an idiot.
Cue the long distance counsel; "Okay, we need to work out if you kid's got one of three things: fleas, worms or lice. Here's how you tell them apart: the worms that you get in Australia aren't from dogs. And they'll have an itchy bum and that's where you'll see them. Lice are mites that are running around the head. They lay eggs, and both the lice and eggs are small, like a fullstop. Unless you see them running around, the treatment's pretty easy. Fleas are common in dogs, and may be transmissible. They're bigger, say the size of a hyphen, and there'll be truck loads."
So, eight sentences that clarify three common infestations. What the shop girls hear is; "The kid's got fleas, worms or lice. Worms are unlikely. The customer will now tell you which one their kid has; ask me if you can't remember the treatment."
I reckon that one of the other strong points of the LDC is that they're frequently incidental, and the customers feel good that the pharmacist is actually listening to whatever else is going on in the store. The rest of the young mums and dads, waiting on their Efexor and Ventolin, listen in and everyone's more informed by the experience.
I guess that's the thing about most pharmacies; the patients don't ask, the pharmacists don't ask. More questions people.
