Let me just start with this thought. Just as not every doctor should be a surgeon, not every pharmacist should administer vaccinations.
Last week we actually found an evening that we were all home together. After dinner we headed the two blocks over to Amsterdam Avenue to get our flu shots at Duane Reade/Walgreens.
In June we moved from the affluent West 80th and Amsterdam (zip code 10024) to the more, shall we say, culturally diverse West 108th and Manhattan Avenue (zip code 10025). Last year when we got our flu shots in the old neighborhood the pharmacist at Duane Reade/Walgreens was a tall silver haired sage. He was very relaxed in his manner and put us at ease as he quickly and competently gave painless flu shots.
The pharmacist this year was a very young woman with frizzy strawberry blond hair and thick wire framed glasses. I only note this because I thought to myself that although she was quite young that she must have spent her college years focused on her studies and not her vanity. This is a perfect example of "don't judge a book by it's cover".
I got my shot first. It should be a quick prick and a Band-aid. But... this was a jab and a slow release of serum. Ouch!
Jeff was next.
While he was getting his shot I walked over to see how Jordan was doing anticipating her turn. Jordan is notoriously afraid of needles. I have seen her pass out and seizure during a blood draw. The last time she had a dental filling she told the dentist that she was afraid of needles and he dismissed it until he gave her the Novocaine shot and she was out cold. She said she remembers getting the shot and the next thing she knew she woke up in a darkened room wearing an oxygen mask, the dentist sitting next to her holding her hand, and the entire staff peering in the doorway. I told her that she looked rather nervous and that maybe she should wait. She said she was determined to do it tonight to get it over with. When she asked if it were painful I lied, hoping mine had been a fluke.
When Jordan sat in the hot seat she told the pharmacist that she was prone to fainting but the young woman just said that she'd never seen anything like that before over something as simple as a flu shot. I walked away so that I wouldn't add to Jordan's nerves. After browsing the toothpaste aisle for a minute I returned to Jordan's side. She was still sitting in the chair. I asked her how she was doing and she said "fine". In an instant her eyes went blank and she started to have small seizures. As this was happening the pharmacist who had been chatting with Jordan moments before literally took two steps AWAY from the patient. I remember thinking, "Wait, you are the medical professional!" Jordan was out for about fifteen seconds and never once did the pharmacist speak, a lot less come to her aid.
Later I asked Jordan what had happened. She said it was a combination of the pharmacist saying "oh, I'm sorry" during the shot and the pharmacist asking her to hold the cotton ball while she undid the Band-aid and when she pulled the cotton ball away there was a speck of blood.
At the very beginning when the pharmacist put on the latex gloves and her fingers got stuck to the Band-aids she was preparing I should have listened to my instincts and headed the mile and a half back down to 79th Street. It may not seem very far as the crow flies but in corporate personnel placement, the pharmacist on tony 79th street (zip code 10024) would have earned his cushy location through a combination of experience and excellent service, whereas the more off beat locations, I assume, would be a launching ground for less experienced or less proficient pharmacists.
Oh, well. Another valuable lesson learned in the big city: location, location, location.
