The Forgotten Profession

March 2020

‘Thank you all for contributing to the meeting,’ the Chair of the Clinical Governance committee at East Renfrewshire HSCP made her closing remarks. I arrived back at the pharmacy just after 12pm to find both phones being used with worried expressions on the faces of my staff.

‘Did you hear the news?'

'What news?’ I answered, fearing the worst.

Di was the first to answer, ‘India and China are stopping exporting paracetamol.’

‘Oh no, that means there’s going to be a worldwide shortage. Have you been trying the wholesalers?’

‘Yes,’ this time it was Justyna, ‘all the wholesalers’ paracetamol are marked red.’

This was our online ordering system and when products showed red that meant they were unavailable.

‘Quick, get onto our other two wholesalers and see what they can give us.’

‘They’re rationing, Mrs Roddick. You’re only allowed four dozen and the price has shot up.’

‘Ok, take them anyway, we’ll need to report the prices we are paying. What about the 32’s?’

‘I can get four dozen but again the prices are unbelievable!’

So this was the start of the panic buying. It wasn’t toilet rolls in pharmacies, it was paracetamol. The public had obviously heard the news. I’d never seen so many people wanting paracetamol. As well as its being in short supply, the Chief Medical Officer had suggested that that was the best thing to take for COVID-19 symptoms.

Over the next two weeks the surgeries started to close up and pharmacy drivers had to pick up all of the prescriptions. The dispensing workload had quadrupled and looking round at my staff – two of whom were off self isolating – I realised we needed help.

‘Eileen, can you come in? We’re struggling here. I’ve never seen anything like this before.’

Eileen, like a knight in shining armour, arrived and set to work. Meanwhile, deliveries went into overdrive with shielding patients and lockdown increasing numbers to almost unimaginable levels.

.

‘Can I help with anything?’

This was the third patient that had heard of our predicament and was offering their services. I explained that staff in the pharmacy had all been rigorously trained before being allowed to dispense and, similarly, drivers all had to have checks and follow particular procedures.

‘Thank you for all your offers of help though,' I kept saying to each patient.

‘Have you got that cement to put my cap back in?’

This was a chap who was showing me the massive gap at the front of his teeth revealing two stumps.

‘I’ve phoned the manufacturers and they say they are overwhelmed – it’s going to be some time before they can produce the product. I’ll put your name on a list if you like?’

He thanked me, grimaced and left the pharmacy quite troubled.

Dentists were locking their doors so we were getting more and more queries about general mouth and teeth problems.

The same gentleman arrived back a week later.

‘Do you think super glue would work for my caps?'

‘Oh no, please don’t use that, it’s full of chemicals. The minute I get the dental cement I’ll phone you, I promise.'

Early on in the pandemic I realised that I would need to do something to keep both my staff and patients safe. I telephoned Bryan, a local joiner.

‘Can you build a plastic screen in front of the counter?’

First of all there was difficulty procuring raw materials since everyone wanted the same thing and, secondly, it had to be fitted after hours. So that was two nights staying at the pharmacy until 9pm. However, there was a problem with the setup.

We didn't know how we were going to get the prescriptions in and out or allow our customers to use the card machine with the large screen between us.

‘You see that old tea trolley we got as a wedding present?’ my husband said to me that night.

I looked over at the trolley which had several plants dangling from its surface.

‘It will need a clean! And how do we get it back and forth?’

‘Here you are,’ Douglas had found a piece of rope with hooks, 'we’ll hook it up and you can push it forward and pull it back. I think it will work well.’

Little did I know that the trolley was going to catch the imagination of the online community and, in fact, the BBC. The trolley made the Scottish National news and BBC Radio Scotland. What wasn’t so good was the number of young women telling me that "their gran had one of them".

The queries to the pharmacy were endless.

'The surgery asked if you could look at my son’s rash?’

‘Mrs Roddick, come quick a man outside has just fainted.'

‘Can you give me something for a urinary tract infection?'

‘I’ve run out of my medicine and my normal chemist is shut half-day Saturday.’

‘There’s someone on the phone asking if you can do a tetanus jag?’ ‘Can they not go to Minor Injuries at the Victoria Out of Hours?’ ‘No, he says it’s shut and he’s not going to the Queen Elizabeth.' 'Tell him to come in.’

And so it went on. Some minor problems, some major queries and it seemed as if the pharmacy was the only place where people could get advice face to face.

But as I looked round at my staff, I was so very proud of them. They had all stepped up and literally given their all to help our patients.

'Everyone, raise your mugs. Let’s celebrate.’