'Couldn't care less': Healthcare is personal but are some pharmacists too tired to bother?

When I joined Pharmacy Practice + Business in May 2021, I had no idea that pharmacists’ education and training equipped them to deliver services that extend well beyond handing me my medications and accepting my payment. Like many other consumers, I thought of pharmacy more as a retail service instead of a clinical profession. But after my first weeks on the job it became clear to me that pharmacists were much more than mere drug dispensers. From conversations with practitioners and my editors at Pharmacy Practice + Business, I learned that pharmacists had a deep knowledge of health conditions and pharmaceutical interventions. Most were keen to work to the full scope of their practice and stepped up quickly to fill the gaps in healthcare when doctors across the country closed down their clinics during the pandemic. Lately, however, I’ve begun to wonder if that COVID-fuelled enthusiasm has given way–at least, among the pharmacists I’ve interacted with recently–to weariness and cynicism. Over the past four weeks I’ve seen a pharmacist five times. Two of these interactions were for vaccinations–one for flu, the other for a COVID booster–and the rest were to pick up a prescription or to ask a question about over-the-counter medications. The pharmacist who gave me my flu shot was abrupt when I showed up for my appointment. She looked only at her computer–never at me–and mispronounced my first name twice. “It’s ‘Marjo,’” I said, the second time she called me “Margo.” She didn’t acknowledge the correction, her eyes still locked on the screen. But later in the consultation room, when I said something to the effect of “you must be crazy busy with flu season starting,” she gave a tentative laugh and seemed to relax. I asked her about the stress from the work she does and whether she ever gets repetitive strain injury from administering one vaccine after another. “I’m used to it,” she answered. She gave me my shot. The next day I went to another pharmacy in my area for my third COVID booster. As I rolled up my sleeve I asked the pharmacist how he was coping with the high demand for flu and COVID vaccines. He shrugged. “It’s so boring.” “Sorry, didn’t mean to bore you even more,” I joked. What I was really thinking was, should you be telling patients you’re bored with the healthcare service you’re providing them? I changed the subject and asked if he was looking forward to the rollout of minor ailments prescribing in Ontario. “Couldn’t care less.” Really, why? “Extra work without extra compensation.” He was already walking away as he answered. “Stay in the store for five minutes. If you feel okay after that, you can go.” I looked at the tiny dot of blood on my bare arm. He hadn't even bothered with a Band-Aid. A few weeks earlier, at my suggestion my boyfriend had gone to another pharmacy to ask about the benefits of a certain OTC med versus another. He came back discouraged and unenlightened. “She was very dismissive.” I didn’t know which pharmacist he had spoken with but I defended her anyway. “They’re very busy, you know.” I explained the immense pressure pharmacists face each day–the relentless pace of work, the frequent abuse from patients, the constant interruptions from retail shoppers asking where they can find their brand of face cream. What I didn’t tell him was, I thought he was right to feel a bit affronted. The thing is, pharmacy is healthcare and healthcare is personal. Even when we take into account the tremendous challenges in the workplace and within the healthcare system, the codes of conduct expected of the profession–and which pharmacists agree to follow when they register to practice–remain foundational to the clinician-patient interaction. I suspect that for the most part, patients are likely to approach a pharmacist only when they have concerns they can’t figure out themselves. Because, let’s face it, most health consumers will consult Google first before talking to a healthcare professional. So by the time patients get to the point where they feel they need to talk to their pharmacist, they may be in a position of vulnerability. They may approach with some trepidation but their willingness to ask for help is also a display of trust–in your expertise, and your willingness to help. My recent experiences have not in any way diminished my view of pharmacists, whom I consider to be underappreciated healthcare superheroes. Maybe those two pharmacists I saw recently were having a bad day. Maybe the pharmacist my boyfriend had consulted didn’t feel like talking to anyone in that moment. Maybe I expect too much. I have this belief that it’s important to acknowledge people. When I shop for groceries, I always ask the cashiers how their day is going. When I walk around downtown Toronto where I live, I say hello to the homeless people on the sidewalk (I once read an op-ed by a former homeless person who said that people looking away was worse than people not reaching into their pocket for change). However I tried to explain away those few less-than-pleasant encounters, they left a lingering sense of unease. I worried that those pharmacists, who appeared relatively young and likely in the early stages of their careers, were already starting to feel tired and jaded. I wondered if that collective surge of energy that helped the country’s pharmacists get through the pandemic had ebbed away and left them too depleted to engage in even the most basic courtesies. At a pharmacy conference I attended this summer, a pharmacy owner in the audience spoke about the importance of self-care and taking accountability. She urged her fellow pharmacists to stop tolerating workplaces that created perfect storms for burnout. “If it’s not working for you, don’t feel the need to stay,” she said. “Leave.” But a younger pharmacist pushed back against that advice. “We can’t just leave–we need our jobs.” Then she told a story that underlined the important role experienced pharmacists can play in changing the profession’s culture: When she started working in her first pharmacy job, she was aware she was entitled to work breaks. “But in my first day I looked around and noticed that no one was taking their break, so that signalled to me that I shouldn’t take mine either.” Her message was clear: young pharmacists learn about work ethics and workplace culture from their more experienced colleagues. Even when the new generation of pharmacists pushes for change, there’s often resistance–likely unintentional in most cases–from established pharmacists who have always done things a certain way. There isn’t a clear, cleancut solution to the problem of burned out, possibly disillusioned pharmacists. But maybe that pharmacy owner at the conference had a good point about self-care and accountability. Maybe the thing to do, while we all wait for the workplace culture and for the healthcare system to improve, is to work on what’s in front of us. If you happen to catch your reflection in a mirror or glass divider after you acted with little courtesy or care towards a patient, you may want to start with that.

'Couldn't care less': Healthcare is personal but are some pharmacists too tired to bother?

Register for free access or login.

Related Topics