On LinkedIn

So I’ve been on that LinkedIn game the past couple of days. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s basically Facebook wearing a tie. Everyone on there is furiously engaged in what I like to call professional masturbation; they make out their menial positions and responsibilities to sound as important as bomb defusers or interplanetary ambassadors.


“Administrative Assistant for 6 years. Responsibilities: facilitated interpersonal data transport.”

Translation: You were a secretary that sent emails.

“Pharmacy technician for 5 years. Responsibilities: performed retrieval and dispensing of pharmaceutical products.”

Translation: You counted pills.

“I have great interpersonal skills.”

Translation: You fucked everyone in the office.

How did you know? Finally.


A Day of Ups and Downs

Down: The other night, I decided to go to Starbucks to get some coffee and read a book. I had also neglected to eat dinner for some reason. As a result, I woke up at 4am, and stayed that way. Nausea wracked me from a combination of coffee on an empty stomach and gnawing hunger. The nausea persisted well into the early afternoon until I got some lunch in me.

Up: At lunch, I met a cutie who is on rotation at the same company I’m at. Later, I got a call from an RML (regional medical liaison) working in the Jersey area who offered to let me shadow him for a day and see an RML in action. So I basically scored myself a field trip and an opportunity to see the actual day to day of the career path I plan on going down.

Down: There was a snafu at work this past weekend. Weeks earlier, I had agreed to cover 3 shifts at one of the Walgreens in my area and had neglected to note the last shift in my calendar. As luck would have it, I had agreed to cover the same exact shift at another store this past weekend. My parents got a call from a Walgreens, not realizing which one was actually calling, and told them that I was on the way. So I unintentionally noshowed for that particular shift. This also had to happen a week after I accidentally forgot about a Sunday shift at my own store. It was only a dumb 4 hour shift and for some reason I had it in my head that I wasn’t working that day. I had offered to come in if they needed me, but the pharmacist had reassured that they’d be fine and they turned out to be pretty slow that day anyway.

So now because of the proximity of these two noshows, the new manager at my store is expecting a meet with me on Friday. I haven’t even met the guy yet. So I’ve already made a terrific first impression without even trying. I’ll explain things and I’m sure it’ll be fine, but it’s still a shitty scenario. C’est la vie.

Find the little evil perpetrator,
And feed them to the hungry alligator,
You want it all,
You want it all,
Love is not about the profits,
Nor the riches in your dreams…

Today was a rather dumb shift at the pharmacy, only 3 hours long. There was a fair bit of counseling though, which has lately become the only redeeming factor to working in community pharmacy at all.

I spoke to a nice little old Jewish lady picking up some medications and asked her if she had any questions, which launched into a 15 minute discussion of her telling me about her blood pressure and diabetes medications. Her diuretic dose became less frequent, but she was urinating more frequently (which makes no sense) and she isn’t on any other medications which would cause diuresis. Her endocrinologist also told her to discontinue metformin, which was prescribed by a primary care physician. Metformin is rarely discontinued in diabetics unless they’re going to switch to insulin. It’s a gold standard drug and is first line therapy in all diabetics, so it’s very odd why it would be discontinued. As I listened to this poor woman tell me how hard it is to get a doctor to listen and talk to her, I likened her to Ellen Burstyn’s character in Requiem for a Dream. She was in desperate need of someone to sit her down and tell her exactly what she should be taking and how often, in other words, proper medical care. My cynicism and disdain for the health care system grows daily.

I love Kurt Vonnegut’s brain so much

“Earth is such a pretty blue and pink and white pearl in the pictures NASA sent me. It looks so clean. You can’t see all the hungry, angry Earthlings down there—and the smoke and the sewage and trash and sophisticated weaponry. I flew over Appalachia the other day—at about 500 miles an hour and five miles up. Life is said to be horrible down there in many places, but it looked like the Garden of Eden to me. I was a rich guy, way up in the sky, munching dry-roasted peanuts and sipping gin.”

So I may or may not have saved a woman’s life tonight. She was picking up tramadol, an opiate related painkiller. She’s also on Cymbalta, an antidepressant working to increase serotonin levels or keep serotonin in the brain longer. In concert with each other, tramadol and antidepressants like Cymbalta can lead to a synergistic effect, too much serotonin in the brain and the possible onset of serotonin syndrome, a potentially fatal condition characterized by tachycardia, hyperthermia, and seizures. The lady had no idea and was so grateful I had warned her. These are the things that can happen when you see multiple doctors who are unaware what the other is prescribing.

It’s moments like that that make community pharmacy almost worth it, but honestly they’re just too few and far in between. I refuse to spend my career robotically checking scripts, calling insurances on rejections, dealing with idiot customers, answering phones and hearing “No” every time I ask a patient if they have any questions about their medication. As a medical liaison, I’ll be working with doctors who WILL have questions, and I’ll be the fucking big dog who knows everything there is to know about my drug(s).

In other news, I’ve hit my data cap on my phone because I am an idiot. I’ve never had to work 8 hours without wifi and realized that I eat data a lot quicker than I thought. Now I’m without interwebs at work for a week until my data cycle starts over. I may not make it.

I could never change
Just what I feel
My face will never show
What is not real

So I’ve more or less settled on a theme that doesn’t irritate me. This is about as minimalist a theme as I could find and it’s the closest to what I had on Xanga. It is pretty irritating how little customization there is on WordPress in comparison to Xanga where I could play with the HTML of the entire page to my heart’s content. Seems that WordPress is more idiot friendly.

Also, I had to try pretty hard to come up with this username. MiataMike was taken and variants thereof were also taken. Oh well, I’m satisfied with this one.

Neat thing: I downloaded my Xanga archives and oddly enough, it had kept the entries from October-January that I had deleted and thought were lost to the endless internet void. It was a neat little adventure reading that bullshit. The sad songs, the bitter letters to no one but empty air. WHATEVER.

One nice thing about WordPress was that I was able to import my Tweeter. I thought twice if I should, but it really doesn’t matter if some internet strangers get to read the crap that a different group of internet strangers can already read. Also neat (read: derivative) how WordPress adopts Twitter-esque “like” and “reblog” functions.

So I guess I’m on WordPress now. It took me like 3 hours to get a fucking username because all of my go to’s were apparently already taken (and fuck being miatamike1). Not off to a good start, WordPress!