In Which The Chemist Proves to be Too Scrupulous

I walk up St. James where there are several chemists shops and none of them open. I decide to walk back towards the flat, which will take me past the large Boots on North Street and Queen’s Road. Boots is a pharmacy chain that also sells a huge range of cosmetics, baby paraphernalia, and children’s toys. By the time I get there Boots is open and the chemist takes my prescription and tells me it will be ready in 10 minutes.

10 minutes until the beginning of headache relief!

Alas, no. When I return the chemist says that they have filled the prescription but that they cannot dispense it to me, because the doctor neglected to date the prescription. Remember how she wrote it by hand because I am not in the surgery’s computer system?

The chemist had phoned the surgery but the good doctor would be not available until 9:30. I couldn’t stay until then, however, because I needed to get back home to relieve AC of Sam duty so that he could get to work. I tell the Chemist that I’ll be back in an hour or so. I figured that would give them plenty of time to get the doctor’s confirmation.

Can you taste the naivety?

I return later that morning with Sam in tow. She likes to sit in the tall swivel chairs in the cosmetic stalls and spin around, so we do that first, and then get in the queue at the chemist’s counter.

It’s not even two hours later and there’s a different chemist at the counter now. Oh yes they have my prescription but oh no they will not give it to me because the prescription is not dated. They haven’t been able to get in touch with the doctor. “They are quite hard to get a reach of” she says. Oh I know.

She hands me back the prescription and suggests that I go get it dated.

Blast.

Back to the doctor’s surgery I go, this time dragging Sammy. It’s not a long walk for me, but for a 3-year old who thought we were going somewhere else (the playground), it’s a long march. Plus it’s cold and windy. I consider just dating the thing myself. Just three numbers. But what if I do it wrong? What if put the date at the top and they usually date the bottom? What if it looks suspicious?

I hurry us along because then it occurs to me that the surgery could be closing at any moment for lunch. I imagine they stay open until noon, but you never know. It’s already 11AM by now. What if they close for Elevenses? I try to get Sam to trot. She’s not having any of it.

Finally we arrive at the surgery and blessed day the doors are open. I go up to the reception area and there’s a different receptionist on duty. (I’m beginning to think that no one works more than 2 consecutive hours at a time). I show her the undated prescription and explain the problem. She disappears for a while. Sam wants to know when we’re going to see the doctor. The receptionist returns and hands me the prescription with the date at the bottom (see!) 3 little numbers: 12/12/08. The printed numbers are straight and precise. It’s hard to tell if they were made by the same hand that wrote the prescription. But I don’t care. Outside we go and up St. James where I try one of the little chemists shops I had seen earlier than morning.

Ten minutes later we emerge with the drugs in hand. Two minutes later I take the first dose and am on my way to removing the cleaver in my brain. Hurrah!