Why I'm Against Pharmacist Prescribing

Every year or so, some Pharmacy organisation rears its head and suggests Pharmacists be able to prescribe medications. Schedule 4 medications are the realm of the doctors. Pharmacists can't prescribe them now, and nor should they.

Of course, pharmacists are already entrusted with the responsibility of monitoring access and assessing suitability of certain medications; the "Schedule 3s". As a cohort, we can give out appropriate thrush creams, morning-after-pills and asthma relievers, and we're generally pretty good at it. Often our ability to assess the need for pain medication or sedating antihistamines is overwhelmed by apathy or the desire for profit.

Whilst I'll deal with profits opposing ethical prescribing later, the key point is that pharmacists are limited in their diagnostic powers. We don't take long, effusive, thorough histories. Not only is there not enough time in a community pharmacy, but pharmacists are simply not trained in the process. It takes several years of medical school just to refine this strength, let alone remember all the pharmacology, indications and interactions. As the Dean said on my first day of Pharmacy School "Where doctors are the doyens of diagnosis, we are the masters of medicine"; a philosophy I'm still well agreed with.

There is a suggestion that an increased knowledge base and Continuing Professional Education (CPE) strengthens the case for pharmacist prescribing. Rather than establish a new-found ability to select and initiate medicines, CPE strives to further inform pharmacists about options for treatment without establishing which medicine is prefereable for each individual patient. That decision requires a full history and physical exam.

Even in hospitals, where the most book-smart pharmacists hang out, there are rarely opportunities to initiate therapy. Specialist physicians are substantially better equipped to make these decisions, and not necessarily through their qualification. Hospital pharmacists play an essential role on the wards; checking charts and modifying therapies. I've not seen a pharmacist saunter up to a physician and say, "You know what, Mrs. Jones has been hypertensive and tachycardic for a while, I think you should give her some atenolol." It's just too much of a leap of faith, without acres of physiology, pathology and pathophysiology.

Don't get me wrong, both physiology and pathology are taught in Pharmacy school, but not, I believe, at a level even close to what's required to diagnose or initiate medication.

In recent years, some Pharmacists have undergone further training and assessment to become accredited to perform additional roles; rural and remote Pharmacists have an extended scope of practice compared with their metropolitan colleagues. Usually there's also a close relationship with a local doctor and as seems to be the way out bush, there's a strong emphasis on health outcomes, not profits or convenience.

Comparatively, Home Medication Reviews (HMRs) are a good way of reviewing patients on thirty or more medications, streamlining their dosing regimen and spying on exactly how much a patient or couple push the SafetyNet 20 Day rule. Most of the reports that have wandered across my path are blowing smoke, often created from preconceived templates and noting obvious interactions that would have flashed up on the prescriber's software at the moment of prescription. Sure, they can point out the odd interaction and help educate the patient about which over-the-counter products to avoid. But that remains the community pharmacist's job; they don't claim $140 a pop for each batch of suggestions.

The Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme (PBS), through regular reviews, has also begun the establishment of 11 month repeat 'scripts for some medications. This means that the prescriber doesn't have to be writing 'scripts every five seconds for a medication that's unlikely to change in dose, frequency and is well tolerated. But, they still need to review it yearly and the medicine is still doctor-initiated. This aspect is most likely to garner public support; "I always have to see the Doc for my sleepers", "I can never get in to see Dr Bob." The PBS appropriately limits the number of repeats based on clinical indications and recommended treatment courses, with an eye to reducing medication wastage.

In a recent report in The Australian, the Pharmaceutical Society of Australia (PSA) campaigns for pharmacist prescribing. The article also notes that the PSA represents 75% of pharmacists in Australia. I'm not one, having resigned my membership in 2007. I have, however, done some polling - enough for a half-decent binomial distribution - and there's no way the vast majority of pharmacists would initiate medications for chronic diseases. At present they're not comfortable writing "sick day" certificates; you can't even cause much harm with those.

Thankfully, most pharmacists appear well aware of their limitations. This most recent push again appears cast from the ivory-tower of pharmacy advocacy without a mind to the majority of the workforce in everyday community pharmacy practice.

The article continues, "PSA national president Warwick Plunkett said a basic requirement would be that the pharmacist dispensing the drugs could not also have prescribed them, to remove the danger that some might seek to profit from their own scripts."

Thanks Captain Obvious. Unfortunately, Mr Plunkett neglects to mention the marked benefits of running a larger pharmacy with two pharmacists on duty; they would be able fill their own store's prescriptions whilst the one-pharmacist strip-mall stores would not. The comment is intended to give the appearance of balance and ethics, when in fact it panders to large banner groups and shuns smaller, independent pharmacists.

The PSA is clearly biting the hand that feeds; it seems a corresponding retort was issued by the Australian Medical Association (AMA) just a few days later, suggesting it should be Doctors running the Pharmacy show. Everyone just needs to calm down.

Although pharmacists know about medicines and some common minor ailments, we're not qualified to diagnose illness nor initiate medications that fall beyond our scope of practice. Most diseases, particularly chronic illnesses, fall beyond the pharmacist's scope of practice. Moreover, allowing pharmacists to prescribe removes a key ethical and quality-control barrier; there's no way the notion could lead to better health outcomes. Pharmacists shouldn't prescribe schedule 4 medications. Most of us are well aware of our clinical limitations; the folks making national media press releases are an exception.
In which the inlets of Banks Peninsula lead onwards...

Akaroa Harbour

Pier, Governers Bay

Lyttleton Harbour from Governors Bay

0545am, Mooloolaba, Sunshine Coast
In which the West Coast's great green walls and grey ocean reveal themselves...

Pancake Rocks, Punakaiki

Waterfall, Franz Josef Glacier

Valley wall, Franz Josef Glacier

triumvirate acqua, Franz Josef Glacier

Raining

It's raining today. Big, fat tears from the grey swollen sky.

This morning when I left the house, the sun was just peaking over the ocean. It was dazzlingly beautiful, even the green dew in the trees sparkled. I'm on birth-suite, and as I left the house and drove off, I thought to myself "Someone's going to have a baby today. I bet they're on the way to the hospital right now, all excited and nervous and filled with joy." A good day to be alive, to see new life. I sang along with the radio, full voice.

Hospitals, in the early morning, always seem dark. A concrete giant wakening from a fitful sleep. I changed into blues and headed to birth-suite, bounding along as the corridors wiped the sleep from their windows.

Several babies had been born over night. Other women had come in labouring. The midwives looked exhausted, the doctors bleary eyed. A baby had died. The grief was palpable; handover came and went on autopilot. It was the third death in a week. This was the worst.

Outside the skies opened. Rain so thick you could taste it indoors. The hills behind the hospital disappeared in the fog of wet. Black looming wet. I found some space alone. I sat and cried.
In which a mountain is summitted and waterfalls and blow-holes discovered.

Down into the Clarence Valley from Mt Isobel, Hanmer Springs
View to the East, Summit of Mt Isobel, Hanmer Springs

Dog Stream Waterfall, Hanmer Springs

Batman 1000, Puzzle nil.

Blowhole action, Punakaiki

Eyes

Sitting in the corner of the meeting room, an off-call consultant's eyelids fall. The night registrar talks animatedly and the day team joke. The consultant's patients have been discussed and his coffee hasn't kicked in. The bounce of his chin rouses him

The round passes through a medical ward; eyes look up, eyes dart around. The octogenerian's glassed, cloudy eyes search for focus, and find wanting. The narc'd lady next door sleeps soundly, eyes rolling in an opiate fog.

In clinic, eyes have fear. Why can't my GP handle this. Or eyes of frustration, "You made me wait an hour to tell me you can't work out what's wrong

In corridors, more tired eyes. Interns, fresh faced aside from the bags, snake some biscuits from the tea-trolley between patients. Jaded admin look daggers through bloodshot Monday-itis

On the kids' ward, the eyes are bright, glossy, new. Eyes working hard to focus for the first time. Others closed tight in sleep.

The labouring mother, too, has tired eyes. Drunk on birth and hormones, sapped of energy. She battles not her lids between contractions; her sweated brow furrows for another wave. Eyes roll as she dozes.

"Anxious", say the father's eyes. He sees and feels pain; and pain is seen in him

His eyes change, her eyes change too. They see new eyes, bright, lustrous, screaming eyes. They see love.

Through tired, happy eyes.

Kicked

Yesterday, I had my butt kicked by a consultant. In front of three junior doctors, it was explained curtly, ruthlessly that the way I'd charted a history from a clinic patient was woeful and inadequate.

The intern had quietly copped a similar treatment not five minutes earlier, at the same time as presenting his case; the experience was cringe-inducing, despite the intern's grace.

The consultant is quite forthright and particular; each patient's history must be documented just so in certain and exact language. I'd managed to take sufficient history given the presenting complaint, but my written order of information was, well, not up to scratch.

Ironically, my thinking and subsequent questioning were much more clear than in similar settings last year; I know why I'm asking what I'm asking as lists of differentials begin to form on my mind's slate. The last step, communicating in clearly to the consultant via written form, is not a foreign language; I just seem to smudge some of the punctuation marks.

According to at least one professor, shame and fear are the cornerstones of medical education. Neither of these emotions were particularly strong during my semi-public ass-kicking. The experience made me more determined.

I'm not in love with gynaecology, nor am I particularly enamoured with this consultant. Sure as anything, I'll go back to their next clinic. I'll take a history, write it up, and probably get whipped again. I'll do it because it will make me better.