Pilly and the Wal-mart Pharmacy

So there I was at the Wal-mart, trying to fill a prescription. And the one I call Sociopathy Girl (although she left girlhood behind some time ago, I fear) was working the desk. She's not a pharmacist, in fact, I'm not entirely sure she's human. She likes to play with her prey before eating it, maybe she's a cat.

And her eyes had that little maniacal twinkle of unholy glee that I have come to know and dread, and so I knew we were in for an interesting day. And we were.

She said the prescription wasn't on file. You want to bring your old bottle with you, the one where it says, "May refill until this date." That tends to throw a wrench into the Great Torture Device that is Sociopathy Girl's place of employment there in Viroqua.

As you may have surmised, I left my bottle home. So I asked her to call the clinic, and she said she would and Lacey, Emma, Ada and I went to visit the Christmas Aisle. Also, the housewares department, the movie section, the toy department, the grocery portion and the Ladies Room.

Ada was not enjoying Wal-mart and clearly would have preferred to go home. Lacey and Emma were having a war of nerves to determine whether Emma would ride in a cart and thus be successfully contained, or whether she would reinvent Wal-mart as a place where any ambitious little girl could climb a few shelves and ride the Pinatas.

Lacey temporarily prevailed. After a month or so, we went back to the pharmacy. No, Sociopathy girl said, they had not reached the clinic. We went to look at purses, jewelry, make up, cleaning supplies, bathroom tissue and clothes.

Emma tried on a few things as we went. You know, like lingerie from the nightgown department. Wearing a bra and panties on her head was distracting for her for a little while, but it palled. As did eating the marshmallows, drinking the milk and enjoying some Go-gurt in a tube.

I was still not loving Sociopathy Girl, and this was entirely her responsibility, so I just serenely kept walking. If you're going to torture the crazy people, you should be prepared for them to reply in kind.

Ada made a political statement about Wal-mart that required a visit to the changing station and a new diaper. Enough time passed for new life forms to evolve and I returned to the pharmacy. Still no reply from the clinic.

I've been through this before, so I went to the service desk and called the clinic, who replied as I expected, the prescription certainly was on file, they had responded two hours ago, and Sociopathy Girl was clearly having a bad day again.

I went back to the pharmacy, and informed Sociopathy Girl that she would be hearing from the clinic shortly, and as nearly everyone within the city limits had probably heard my conversation with the clinic--not that the clinic was problematic, they don't employ Sociopaths at the clinic, I just wanted to share information with other potential Wal-mart Pharmacy customers so they could experience the cat and mouse drama of interacting with Sociopathy Girl--I was confident that soon, the game would end.

It didn't end as quickly as I would have liked, so I released Emma from the cart. She tried out some blood pressure monitors. Lacey tried to stop her, but I intervened. After all, if Wal-mart wanted her to stop they were perfectly welcome to throw a net over Sociopathy girl, and I said so. Loudly. And firmly.

Emma said she had to pee. I suggested a likely looking spot on the floor in the eye department, but Lacey made her go to the ladies room. People noticed.

I had a nice discussion with Lacey about why the pharmacy should never jerk around the paranoid schizophrenics. I don't believe I am a paranoid schizophrenic, certainly I have not been diagnosed with that illness. But Wal-mart doesn't know that.

Other customers began decidng to wait on the other side of the store. While eyeing me suspiciously. I smiled, on account of I am nice like that.

I began speculating as to whether the sporting goods department would sell me a gun and some ammunition, but it turned out they don't sell firearms anymore. Pity, that.

Other customers suddenly realized they had forgotten to purchase tires for their cars and decided to rectify that immediately, moving farther away from the pharmacy.

So we began discussing the possible effect of adding certain varied mushrooms to the employee coffee pot. Lacey allowed as how that might be fun and asked me how well I was able to distinguish between say, the Amanita species , the hallucinogenic species and morels, which are harmless.

I ventured the opinion that I was not good at that, not good at all. In fact it could be argued that as I don't see well, a lot of things could go wrong if I were to say, make soup from scratch.

Emma decided to test different fever thermometers and experiment with some batteries. I encouraged her to foster her sense of scientific inquiry. Ada fell asleep, but not until firmly protesting having to be at Wal-mart two years longer than the dinosaurs roamed the earth, thus missing her lunch.

I suggested to Lacey that we advise the clinic and the place they refer the crazy people to, to recommend that their patients use some pharmacy other than Wal-mart's, as the effect of denying medication to a person who was badly Bipolar had potential for repercussions of epic proportion.

And then I aired some views of the way Sociopathy Girl treated the elderly. Emma had moved on to vitamins and natural substances and was preparing to create an entirely new treatment for psoriasis.

Again, I opined that as I would take Emma home anytime they saw fit to give me my antidepressants, thus preventing my messy suicide in the meat department, and by a rare coincidence it was at that exact moment they called my name.

Before you come to arrest me, please be advised that at no time did I seriously consider tampering with the coffee pot or harming any individual. I am not sociopathic, unlike some people who shall remain nameless (I'll just look at the part and whistle).

This is an attempt at humor, after all. Of course, you may not find me amusing and if that is the case, I invite you (and strongly encourage you) to blog about that to your heart's content. I will even read you if you like, I am nothing if not gracious.

I am not qualified to diagnose Sociopathy Girl and it is only my opinion that she is probably only one act of psychological torture away from a new career as a serial killer, and unless you are the thought police, what I think is not a crime.

I'm allowed to think anything I want. Thanks to the First Amendment I can say anything I like, as well. Unless George Bush repealed that Amendment at the same time he instituted the Patriot Act and created the secret police department that he so reassuringly called Homeland Security.

So, anyway, I got the pills, I took the pills and now I am feeling pretty sane, again. Sane enough to make it to January when I see the Grand Psychiatrist and get new meds which may cure me. Or not. But are sure to make for an interesting spring.

I might switch pharmacies by then, though. Sadly, what they are letting that woman do to the mentally ill is, if not a crime, certainly morally wrong and medically unethical and you would think the actual Pharmacists would ask for her to be reassigned to say, the auto department and someone who likes people could work at the pharmacy window and look important while playing solitaire on the computer.

But that's just a suggestion.

Don't be like Sociopathy Girl. Make the world a better, not a worse, place.

Be the kindness.