Increased Vaccination Rates are no Flu-ke

A chill is once again in the air. Oak leaves are covering my yard and the daylight savings time in this part of the world has wreaked havoc on our daily routines. Morning feels closer to normal, but suppertime feels like bedtime. I’m getting ready for an off-site flu clinic this afternoon that was requested by a nursing home facility for their staff and their residents’ families. After our last appointment, we get to spend an hour driving in the dark all the way home.

Remember back to the first flu season that pharmacists were trained to vaccinate? We really didn’t know what to expect in terms of public acceptance or overlap with services provided by other health providers. I wrote about it back in 2013 and the temperature at that time was rather lukewarm. Pharmacists were tentative, cautious and, in many cases, reluctant to jump in.

Oh how times have changed.

Each successive year has pushed the practice to new heights. Year 2, the public health office had a better idea of distribution and vaccine supply was more accessible. In the first year, a number of pharmacists hadn’t yet obtained their injection permits. That limitation was abated in year two and pharmacy capacity for accommodating walk-in appointments skyrocketed.

Year 3, all staff were ready from the October announcement. Not only had workflow been adapted to accept appointments and walk-in requests, pharmacists were now out in their communities making it all the more convenient for employers and community groups alike to receive flu shots. Some were in community rooms and schools, meeting rooms and church halls. Loved ones visiting a parent at a nursing home may have been greeted by a pharmacist from a local dispensary.

This year, flu shots seem like they’ve always been part of pharmacy services. Not only are all of the experiences in previous years being repeated, but now the pharmacists are being sought out to provide these clinics. Word of mouth has led to invitations from previously unknown locations. Employer groups have started to recognize the cost-savings gained by having their staff vaccinated at work to minimize illness. Many of them had never received a shot and would not have made a special trip to the physician’s office. Rural communities with minimal medical services have enjoyed improved vaccination rates due to pharmacist injections. Entire families are coming back to see the same clinician, and are able to shop and run other errands at the same time. ‘Done for another year’ is a common quote as another satisfied customer pulls on their jacket sleeve.

The best part is the team pride. Pharmacists impress themselves with the number of shots they can comfortably do by themselves…on a Monday night…on seniors’ day…with an extra doctor in the after-hours clinic. Managers wait to see the latest aggregate counts year-to-date to see how they stack up to previous years. They speak wistfully about the reluctant child that left with a smile, or the administrator that sends chocolates as a thank you for such a smooth workplace clinic. Awareness is at a high, with more people getting their shots earlier in the season, with minimal disruption to their lives.

It hasn’t been a fluke, but rather a testament to our profession’s resilience; we have risen to meet a new challenge, and after 3+ years, the results are nothing short of impressive.

 

 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.

Learning to Lie in the Bed we MAiD

June 17/16 was a historic day in Canada. It was the day that bill C-14, legislation on medical assistance in dying (MAiD) received royal assent.

Picking the title for this post was tough. The pun idea was what initiated the post in the first place, but reading it may imply a lack of respect which is unintentional. My feeling is that Canada took the bold step to acknowledge that dying with dignity belongs in our consciousness and in how we care for those suffering the unimaginable. Now that this step was taken, and the discussions have occurred, there is no putting the toothpaste back in the tube. Providing patient care in this setting is a marked departure from anything most of us have been involved with in our careers. We are trained to be exacting in our standards and level of detail to prevent patient harm from dosing errors or drug interactions. Recognizing what was always viewed as the most extreme degree of harm as holistic patient care is not an easy feat.

It’s no surprise the debate was prolonged. The subject of death in any form is an extremely sensitive topic. It’s never supposed to be a planned event, and when it is, it’s associated with tragedy and unanswered questions. There is now a provision in the criminal code for an individual to seek assistance in ending their personal suffering on their terms without penalty to themselves or the healthcare providers involved in carrying out those final wishes.

In Nova Scotia, the regulations make clear the pharmacist’s involvement. In my opinion, the document is transparent, and is well-written. Should our team be approached with a request, we’ve discussed our comfort with the sourcing and dispensing of the medications (some of which we’ve never actually dispensed in retail). We understand our role in the process, and those of the physicians and the nursing staff. Still, when the request is actually made, it’s difficult to predict the emotions we will feel…and that’s perfectly okay. I’ve spoken with colleagues that have been approached and they describe the process as extremely collaborative and supportive. In the lead-up, it’s all about following the protocol: receiving the orders, collecting the medications and associated supplies, labeling the kits, and arranging dispensing to the responsible physician. It’s usually only after the required notification is received that the gravity tugs a little stronger.

The CBC published an article in May of this year with a province by province snapshot of the developing guidelines based heavily on the Supreme Court ruling in the case of Carter v. Canada in Feb 2015. All had defined criteria for eligible candidates, and all outline ‘effective referral’, a clause requiring any health professional unable to provide service themselves to ensure that it is received. Not everyone will be comfortable with medically-assisted dying and we respect those who decide not to participate. Since that point, there have been additional provisions and court challenges that deem the laws too restrictive, so the conversation is far from settled.

In closing, I don’t usually like to provide opinions on controversial topics. We are a community of mostly pharmacists and complementary health care providers, meaning one opinion is one voice, and no more or less important than that of a fellow pharmacist, nurse, or physician. I have been asked, and to me it really comes down to the individual making the request. If they were my loved one; a spouse, a sibling, a parent and they were suffering helplessly, would I wish for them to have that choice? Would I wish to have that choice should my health decline to the point where comfort measures are the only form of therapy available? As many times I’ve replayed the arguments, I seem to always settle on ‘Yes’.

If you have not already done so, please read the decision and the MAiD materials before you are called on to respond. Whether you participate is a deeply personal decision that can not be made lightly. History will never be undone, so we all need to be at peace with how we move forward and evolve with this change.

 

 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.

Hip For a Night

How often do you feel part of something too big to explain in words alone? It’s a sensation; a point in time where everyone casts an eye, bends an ear, and opens a mind to an emotional spectacle only experienced a handful of times a generation.

The Tragically Hip bid farewell to the masses in their home town of Kingston, Ontario and an estimated 11.7M viewers across Canada via an uncut CBC live feed on August 20. I certainly won’t find the right words, but I’ll gladly take a lunge at it.

Lead singer Gord Downie was recently diagnosed with glioblastoma, a terminal brain cancer that grows aggressively and offers minimal chance at long-term survival. He decided to do the opposite of what you might expect; instead of becoming reclusive, accepting what remaining quality-of-life measures were available, and letting us mourn in advance of the inevitable, he organized a final tour to share himself with the fans one last time.

 

“Courage…It couldn’t come at a worse time.”Gord Downie, Courage

However ravaged his body appeared after a craniotomy and six weeks of chemo and radiation, the energy from all pockets of the country seemed to fuel his voice after every introductory riff. Each of the three encore sets reached a fever pitch, and without interruption, we could hang on every solo, every iconic lyric, each instance of a certain signature, tumbling cadence to cap the vocal line.

That night I wasn’t a pharmacist. I was a Canadian…and a damned proud one at that.

The next morning, Laura and I were chatting about the significance of the concert. This exchange captured what many of the articles and pundits had been reporting:

Me: Any way I can tie in the Hip concert into a pharmacy blog post?

Laura: Oh God, I cried through the whole concert last night. Their bravery and COURAGE was unbelievable.

Me: I know. Read an article about Gord burning out onstage for everyone. Pretty amazing stuff.

Laura: They played for three hours.

Me: After the first few songs, I felt he was straining hard, but he kept going.

Laura: Yeah, and a lot of classics later on he sounded amazing. Imagine spending that much time and energy with four other guys for thirty years. They know exactly what they’re all going to do. Remarkable really.

Me: Can’t imagine. They deserve the adulation. If you’re going to hero-worship anything, this feels right.

Laura: Canadian pride and caring less about what others think is a surefire way to a happier life. Tonight the ENTIRE COUNTRY stopped to watch a concert. Would that happen anywhere else in the world? 

The CAPS are unedited, and proper emphasis is where it belonged 🙂

 

“No one’s interested in something you didn’t do.”Gord Downie, Wheat Kings

I could take a fatalistic approach in saying that many cases of malpractice litigation definitely hinge on things that weren’t done, but I digress…

In all seriousness, wiser words have not been spoken as a mantra to living all phases of life. As pharmacists, how many minor ailments have we failed to offer? How many open-ended questions have we failed to ask? How many turf wars do we concede to other health professions? How many courses have we failed to take? How many trips have we failed to plan? How many opportunities have we failed to grasp? None of these examples are malicious or vindictive, just oftentimes we remain passive because of the emotional investment and unknown consequences.

Laura really drove the point home for me:

“So let’s remember what Gord and the Hip did on Aug 20. They gave everything they had left to their fans in one last hurrah. Every Canadian, healthcare professional or not, can stand to give a little more to others, care a little less what people think and get on with living their best life.”

 

“No dress-rehearsal…this is our life.”Gord Downie, Ahead By  a Century

Everyone’s watching. Work, play, practice..LIVE on your own terms. 

#InGordWeTrust

 

 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.

Time is Relative

After vacation, you could say we encountered some rather bad luck. I say we, but the sympathy should be reserved for my wife, who after two days back at work, suffered a nasty fall and shattered her olecranon. My diagnostic skills are weak in this area, but my hack medical description of this injury would place it as a Type IIIB, replete with instability of the forearm and multiple fragments. Lest we say that it wasn’t funny at all (cue collective groan).

Having never had a catastrophic injury before, when I received her phone call that something was wrong, her voice was a bit higher-pitched, but the timbre and inflection didn’t suggest anything worthy of alarm. In fact, she seemed more concerned about a set of keys that dropped through a sewer grate during the tumble. Assuming shock was playing a part, we arrived at the emergency with the arm immobilized, and she proceeded to sit and read her book for 4 hours in the waiting room. She felt some discomfort when she tried to move, but no agonizing pain. We were both aghast when the doctor returned with the x-ray results; her ‘bad sprain’ would require immediate surgery. In hindsight, the fact she could no longer locate the knob of her elbow probably should’ve been a giveaway.

So the ER doc forwarded paperwork to the main hospital, but it was one in the morning and the services were closed. So he applied a cast, asked she refrain from eating or drinking, and head to the hospital at 9 in the morning (basically cast, fast, and last). The morning comes, they take x-rays, perform a work-up triage, and….send her home…on a Friday. The new instructions were to start fasting at midnight, and wait by the phone for a possible call in the morning. Saturday morning rolls in and no call. Now I might add, she is not taking anything for pain, just frequent icing and sleeping uncomfortably in a chair with a cushion supporting her thankfully non-dominant arm. By 3pm, I’m calling the hospital myself as she now hasn’t eaten in over 15 hours. Lo and behold, the nurse had thought someone already called. No surgery today due a multiple trauma situation. Repeat the midnight fast. Two MORE days go by until she gets in on the Monday morning. With a little hardware insertion, she is now partially bionic and taking on any arm-wrestling challengers (kidding).

Through the ordeal, we realized that as pharmacists entrenched in the healthcare system, we are providing care to patients, and don’t often ponder the role of the consumer. To find ourselves on the flip side dealing with the uncertainly of a foreign process, we honestly had a frustrating few days. Healthcare is often measured in units of length, not quality. How long will it take to fill my prescription? How long is the wait in the emergency room? How long is the wait list for my carpal-tunnel surgery?

As a provider, we understand all the moving parts and systems that help us deliver quality healthcare. The time we take to ensure we’re being prudent, thorough and safe can not be understated. To us, 30 minutes for a prescription may be completely realistic so that everyone in line for a medication service will receive the same experience, regardless of whether it’s an injection, a medication review and/or a simple refill. In order to maintain consistency and sustainability, that block of time is necessary for very good reasons.

As a consumer on the other hand, we lacked the understanding, and every missed phone call, or being ‘bumped’ was hard to comprehend. My wife is unable to function for 3 1/2 days; no real sleep, fasting cycles, trouble performing any regular tasks we may take for granted (laundry, cooking, dressing, showering, etc). We’ve since determined that an ‘eternity’ is now defined as 3 1/2 days. Just at the point of feeling helpless and distraught, it dawns on us that we need to trust the professionals to provide us with the best care under the system that binds them. How can we, as pharmacists, expect patients to trust us when we say that their prescription will take the time we quote them, when we’re not willing to give that same latitude to those trying to help us?

So I propose we attempt to measure the time in a different way. Specifically, let’s look at duration of relationships. How long have you had the same family doctor? Did he/she treat your parents or kids? How long has your pharmacist been following up on that pesky diabetes? How long is the history you’ve had with a dental clinic? Usually, the strong bonds you form in primary care are a testament to the quality you receive, and yes, most people will feel it’s worth the wait.

Time is relative. A service may seem to take too long, but merely a speck in what could become a rewarding long-term relationship.

 

 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.

Dirty Laundry

Oh, how I would love to offer something salacious to justify the outrageous title. If I had the forethought, I should be writing an episodic daytime drama that captures the emotion and mystique of community pharmacy.

Just think: the excitement of finding a favorite pen that a colleague had been hoarding, the heartbreak of losing a customer who had developed into a close friend, and the passive-aggressive dance to decide whose turn to grab the cash. In  15 years, I never seem to run out of stories to tell, although on second thought, most are the ‘you had to be there’ variety.

After a stressful week, I am left to ponder the sobering realities of my chosen profession. One question in particular comes to mind:

How do I keep my lab coat white?

A quick reference check from the most trusted website on all of the internets, Wikipedia, tells us that lab coats were introduced to the medical profession in the late 1800’s to denote cleanliness. I admit, it’s very easy to tell if the lab coat gets grungy, especially around the cuffs from resting on dusty, drug residue-covered counters, or having a collection of pen-stripes above the pockets when you forget to retract the tip.

The symbol has evolved to portray trust and knowledge. To wit:

18ed_grovers_lab_coat

Image courtesy of our friends at Thinkgeek.com:
http://www.thinkgeek.com/images/products/zoom/18ed_grovers_lab_coat.jpg

Though we are far from infallible, we are trained to make judgement calls and defend our decision-making processes. This may be intimidating for many members of the public; previous generations would never dare challenge their family physician and lived in fear of disappointing them. White-coat hypertension is a very real phenomenon for many patients wary of the unknown, who build up stress in advance of an appointment, akin to waiting outside the principal’s office or prepping for a job interview.

Lab coats can be a bit on the controversial side as well. Many in professional settings eschew wearing an extra, often hot and uncomfortable layer. There is also growing concern of cross-contamination with super-bugs like methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus (MRSA). There’s also the practicality argument: lab coats used in laboratory settings protect the wearer from chemical spillage on their clothes or skin. Generations ago, when most medicines were compounded, this may have been a solid stance, but then again smoking in the dispensary was also acceptable too.

My personal take? Over the years I’ve softened on the need for a white coat. As students taking pharmacy degrees or technician certification discover in their first years of study, receiving a white coat welcomes you into a strong, trusted community. I’ve always worn one, and feel pride when I interact with patients, colleagues and other professionals. The analytical side of me identifies with the science and the constant drive for higher knowledge. That said, I don’t question another professional’s preference to avoid wearing one unless it’s part of a uniform outlined by an employer or educational institution. Pharmacists find themselves in so many collaborative settings nowadays, be it committee-work, nursing homes, regulatory, administrative roles, etc. that are founded on relationships and trust that go much deeper than a symbolic white coat. In public forums, there’s no mistake that a lab coat will certainly draw attention and identify the wearer as someone who more than likely comes from a scientific or healthcare-related background (just ask any pharmacist in a grocery-store setting running to the deli for a quick lunch break).

So my point is: anyone have a recommendation on a good bleach?

 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.

Welcome to Canada

By now, everyone has heard of the Syrian refugee crisis. The Syrian people, having witnessed unspeakable tragedy and horror, are fleeing their home country in the hopes of finding a new, safer, more prosperous life elsewhere.

The Government of Canada has committed to resettling 25,000 Syrians here in Canada. It may have been naive of me but I didn’t think many of them would be coming to our humble little province. I assumed they would be heading west, to Ontario, or Quebec or even further west. How very wrong I was.

I should have known that Nova Scotians would step up to the need. Mosques, church groups and government agencies have sponsored families. They are supporting them as they enter their new lives and helping them with things we all take for granted. As of February 5 of this year, over 500 refugees have arrived in our wonderful little province and I have had the pleasure of meeting a few of them in my capacity as their new pharmacist.

My first meeting came when a gentleman and his interpreter arrived at our store asking for help with itchy skin. He didn’t have his paper that would allow him to go to the doctor, and as myself, my manager and my student all worked to find out how to get him his paper and if he could see a doctor, his interpreter kept telling us that he was saying over and over “Canada is the best country in the world.” At the end of our interaction, we all welcomed him to Nova Scotia and wished him well. We felt we did very little for him – a Google search, a phone call. But to both men, it seemed this little act of kindness was huge and brightened their day. It certainly brightened ours.

The next time I met a refugee was when a gentleman and his son arrived at the pharmacy with the proper papers in tow but not a single syllable of English. Through mime and drawings, we were able to convey to him that his son was to take his amoxicillin three times daily until they were finished. Once they finally understood, they smiled and said thank you. Apparently, in a super Canadian fashion, thank you was the one phrase they had learned.

After both of these scenarios, I was able to go home to my warm house, snuggle my fluffy cat and make a nice meal for myself. I was able to call my friends and family and ask how their days were, read a good book have a cup of tea and go to bed. As I went through the motions of my day, I was struck by how brave these people truly are. I tried to imagine myself in a country in which I didn’t understand the language. I imagined trying to navigate a doctor’s visit, a trip to the grocery store, a walk down the street. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have to do all of those things that I take for granted in a totally new country after having fled a war zone. And these folks are doing it with a smile on their faces! They’re so glad to be out of the war zone and starting fresh. They will have lots of healing to do, and lots of learning to do. And so will we. We have to learn how to help these people. How do we communicate effectively? How can we make them feel welcome? How can we tell them where the nearest grocery store is? These are all things that we will learn as they learn to adjust to this new, snowy place.

Despite the fact that their English was broken at best, at the end of both of my interactions with the above mentioned folks, I left them with a sentence they understood right away. As soon as I said it, either alone or through an interpreter, their faces split into some of the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen- Welcome to Canada!

For more information on refugees and what we as health professionals can do, visit www.isans.ca or your pharmacy college website!

 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.

Inter-Professional Appreciation Day

So the votes are in, and with a track record of 39% accuracy, last week the groundhog predicted an early spring. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but the sky looked pretty cloudless here so those of us slogging through a winter funk have reason to be hopeful.

Since it is an unofficial, cute, holiday, I figured it was worth proposing my own. As I attempt to defy convention once again, consider the following question:

Ever give someone a sponge bath?

In my (ahem) younger days, the idea of a sponge bath was how I needled a close friend who was working towards her nursing degree. Naturally it’s completely ignorant and ridiculous to think that nursing, or any direct patient care could be reduced to one task. In fact, what may seem rather menial in nature and by no means glamorous, is of utmost importance for those that can not bathe themselves. I know how much I appreciate feeling clean, so I can only imagine how helpless it must feel to understand the benefits of good hygiene, but be unable to carry through the behaviours on your own.

Although I didn’t become a pharmacist to avoid sponge baths, it certainly didn’t rank on the list of responsibilities I envisioned for a career. Now that I’m well into my chosen occupation, it seems that my view of other health professions has always been colored by their impact on my own. This inherent bias has really prevented me from appreciating the multitude of care considerations outside of medication management.

Physicians and nurses have been so complementary all these years so it’s fair to start with them. From a medication standpoint, it shouldn’t be a surprise that those prescribing and administering don’t always know the chemical names of generic brands, dosage forms strengths or interactions. Even after taking a four-year degree concentrating solely on them, there are so many drug options in the CPS, it’s surprising I remember a small fraction without needing to research. Physicians are the leaders in primary care. They diagnose every ailment through any available means: inspection, manipulation, blood tests combined with subjective and objective measurements. It must be a huge weight to provide answers to those feeling their worst on any given day. Being the one to inform a family that a spot on a lung is terminal cancer, or confirming that protracted mobility issues are due to ALS, would be heartbreaking. Not to mention the hospital visits, the special authorizations, the referral letters all while trying to keep abreast of the newest science in the field. It’s amazing and since it has become an expectation, often underappreciated.

Shifting gears, have you ever seen a relaxed nurse on the job? Most of whom I’ve met have so many balls in the air they could put buskers to shame. Being responsible for the quotidian care of many individuals is not an easy undertaking. Things we take for granted: getting dressed in the morning, toileting, having the dexterity to handle a spoon are significant challenges for folks of all ages whether in an institutional setting or transitional care. It takes compassion to help change hearing aid batteries, or massage a sore shoulder. It takes fortitude to debride open wounds or clean up accidents related to continence.

Other health professions contribute to well-being and are responsible for bettering quality of life. Dietitians instill healthy mealtime discipline but allow for that diabetic to enjoy his/her favorite treat now and then. Occupational therapists adapt environments and modify tasks to help regain or maintain daily productivity. Physiotherapy will intervene after a hip fracture to increase mobility and function.

We all have a part to play, and every professional requires practice and support from the other fields. A truly holistic approach to patient care demands it.

This pharmacist would like to send along a hearty ‘thank-you’ to all of my healthcare allies in whatever capacity you may touch the life of our mutual patient. We all share a passion for the same thing: to help others feel the best they possibly can for as long as they possibly can. Your contribution matters. We promise to work at our craft to ensure that we hold up our end of the bargain.

 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.

Palliation – A Needed Discussion

This post is a tough one for me. The topic of palliation is deeply felt by most healthcare professionals, either via direct care or through personal experience. Although preventative medicine is the over-arching goal, we still tend to see the majority of people during periods of acute illness or marked progression of chronic disease.

My family is no different than many. Our family history is riddled with various cancer scares with at least one related death, significant heart disease, and diabetes. I have been very fortunate to date that the vast majority of my relatives are in good health; they all live in their own homes and can look after their own affairs. However, the time is approaching when end-of-life measures will become a significant topic that none of us are truly ready to accept, myself included.

Most folks are familiar of the concept of a will. The stipulations for funeral arrangements and the dividing of assets is rife with legalese to ensure nothing is left in a grey area. Lesser known is the idea of advanced health care directives, or more commonly, a living will. With Canada’s aging population, widespread education of the public will be needed to facilitate conversations with healthcare teams. Borrowing from an infographic published by the Canadian Hospice Palliative Care Association (CHCPA), one statistic referenced on the Wikipedia link (above) stands out:

Polling indicates that 96% of Canadians think that having a conversation with a loved one about planning for the end of life is important. However, the same polls show that only about 13% have actually done so, or have created an advance care plan for themselves.

Incredible. I encourage readers to have a look at the complete document for some additional eye-popping nuggets: http://hpcintegration.ca/media/56049/TWF%20double%20survey%20infographic%201pg.pdf

The timing of this topic may seem a bit strange so close to the holidays, but I’ve decided to share from my personal experience and also my experience as a pharmacist. The personal side first:

My wife and I were slow to the game. A will was something we had talked about completing but never had the interest, or urgency to follow-through. Now that we have kids, a house, a car, and even a blog (ha!), it was time to make sure we were prepared in the event of catastrophe. We recently sat with a lawyer and were so far out of our depth, it felt like standing on the bottom of the ocean. The questions being asked about asset shares, and custodial rights of the kids were met with knee-jerk responses that we honestly hadn’t thought all the way through. That bit of guidance really made a difference to our peace of mind. I’m writing this on a Thursday, and our first discussion about advanced health care directives literally just happened. Peering over dueling laptops, we agree that if an objective healthcare team determines that the line in the sand has been crossed, we are comfortable with stopping all oral treatments, blood tests, imaging, etc and focusing solely on symptom management. Just verbalizing it now and working through the what ifs (e.g., whether there is dementia or mobility issues) will allow for a degree of clarity during a stressful, highly emotional time.

As a professional, my current role is managing a pharmacy dedicated to nursing home facilities. Nursing homes have palliative care order templates with the various options for pain, dyspnea, secretions, mucosal dryness, delirium, and anxiety. When these are enacted, the expectation is that the philosophy has moved from active treatment to comfort measures. That said, the waters can get muddy when there is disagreement. If the resident is lucid and can still swallow daily medications, will changing daily routines make things easier or more stressful? If diabetes is no longer treated and blood sugars are allowed to soar, will that ultimately add to discomfort? We’ve had occasions where some oral meds were stopped but not others, or specific medications are lifted from the palliative care orders and written separately in order to have select measures in place without continuing down a chosen road. No doubt it’s complicated, and pharmacies only tend to see the medication side of things. Other support functions are invaluable during the decision-making process; chaplains, grief counselors, and social workers can all play a role to ease transitions, particularly if items have been decided ahead of time.

So this appeal goes out to as many as it can reach: the young, old, sick, healthy, families large and small. Please share your end-of-life wishes with your loved ones to avoid any uncertainty as to your wishes for yourself and for them. How do _you_ want to be cared for when you’re no longer able to process options or articulate decisions? Even though they won’t be needed for a lifetime, choices made today will mold the end of one.

http://www.cdha.nshealth.ca/palliative-care

 

 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.

Long Hours (The days just ‘Flu’ by…)

I’m sitting here on a Saturday morning watching my girls make rainbows out of clay while Minecraft videos are playing on the laptop. Outside the window, the browning oak leaves are fluttering in a way that dares me to attempt some raking before they fall and completely cover the yard again. It’s shaping up to be a beautiful, quiet day. I realize they haven’t been very plentiful as of late; it’s year three of the pharmacist flu-shot blitz so like many of my colleagues, we are doing our best to accommodate the current demand for our services.

In Nova Scotia, now that we find ourselves riding in our third flu-shot rodeo (wait for public health to say, ‘go’, and hang on for as long as outbreaks are a possibility), the mood has definitely shifted.

In year one (fall 2013), pharmacy teams were unsure of public acceptance of this new skill. The regional deployment of vaccine to different providers created some confusion and shortages. There was also a scary incident out west where 5 flu-related deaths after the New Year  prompted a second surge of vaccination demand.

For last flu season, we were much better prepared. The method of vaccine distribution was more straightforward, and contacts made from the previous year made planning off-site clinics seamless. The impact on workflow was known, so pharmacists were able to factor in the additional time between prescriptions, or have additional staff members available for clinics. Staying ahead of the documentation paperwork was, and still is difficult, but the forms are familiar.

This year feels like we have been emboldened in a whole new way. Pharmacists are being sought out like never before to hold clinics, to attend workplace events, and educate community groups on the benefits of the vaccination. Many sites have set goals for themselves and are excited about their increased capacity. Increasingly, family physicians recognize that we are complementing their services by creating awareness and reaching more patients than ever before.

In my site, we offer vaccination services to our long-term care facilities. We cater to facility staff, residents and their families. The coordination has been fantastic, but allowing a pharmacist to be off-site three afternoons a week means that long-hours are required to run the dispensary. Even with the planning, regular tasks fall behind. My to-do list grows longer by the day, but it’s a good investment of my time to keep my team engaged and really challenge some folks to step up when we’re a bit tight on staff.

The time of year is significant as well. Vaccines were released on Oct 5th, giving us less than 12 weeks before the holiday season. Finding slots for shopping, putting winter tires on the car, servicing the snowblower, coordinating Christmas parties, etc. add weight to an already heavy load. In recent years, I’ve had to resort to taking vacation time in order to line up the tasks above for efficient completion. Not that I’m saying that taking a holiday is necessary, but it’s my strategy to manage the busyness and chaos.

It’s the nature of the beast, this profession; we’re in it for the patients and their needs. We work long hours to get the job done and the weeks have a way of blending together. The public health need at the moment is providing access to the flu vaccine. Not all of us inject, but we can all educate as to the benefits and cover dispensing duties to allow appointments to be kept, and clinics to be run. The reward of gratitude can be seen immediately. The mother of three that all get their shots at the grocery store while they pick up a few last-minute items. The real-estate agent who pops in around supper hour between house showings. A young child realizes that the quick needle isn’t as traumatic as originally thought.

So roll up those lab-coat sleeves and get your hands dirty. On second thought, let’s review proper hand-washing technique instead…

 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.

Drifting on an Ocean of Change

Change is fluid. Like the ocean tides, change can have a degree of predictability. Like the storm-driven swells, change can also randomly toss you about and threaten to pull you under the surface.

Change affects various groups of people differently, and balancing the dynamic between members of a team is essential to success. There are many well-worn concepts floating about but one of my favorites is the traffic-light model that designates an individual’s readiness for change. Red is not ready to consider change, yellow is cautiously optimistic of change, and green signifies already in the process of changing with no barriers. This may apply to any behavior, or environmental change, and readiness can vary depending on the topic. For a pharmacy example, you could be a green for administering vaccinations, a yellow for sharing duties with a regulated technician, and a red for minor-ailment prescribing.

Perhaps after a year or two of flu shots, you’ve got it figured out; it’s an enjoyable part of the job to educate folks on the value of vaccinations in general, and the staff keep the appointments on track. At the same time, this new profession has appeared on the horizon. Technician regulation has been in the works for some time, but now candidates are ready to take the reins. It sounds like they will help allow pharmacists to further immerse themselves into clinical duties, but many will hesitate not knowing if they will be ultimately liable for mistakes made by a technician. It will take time to get comfortable. Finally, meeting the demands of patients arriving at the pharmacy with rashes and cold sores is causing some angst; what will the family doctor think? Will I miss a red-flag? What if I make the problem worse? What references should I use?

It’s a good thing change is fluid, as the personal experiences come and others provide positive reinforcement, that red light may assume an orange hue on it’s way to yellow.

Within a team, everyone may be a different color. Anytime change is imminent, psychological reactance rears its head as members of the group digest how it will affect them. Like a newly-diagnosed diabetic told to avoid sugary foods will obsess about ice cream on the drive home, our first reaction is to resist change until we feel in control of it. We’re all different, so the timelines to readiness, and the conditions required to move towards green will vary. The thing is, that diversity is essential for effective group change. I’m sure some of you figure that the red lights are counter-productive. In fact, those in the room that come across as negative and always have reasons to maintain the status quo are just as important as the go-getters that see the limitless sky. The key is the right balance, as mentioned above.

Take a buoy floating on our change ocean:

Buoy - PA

*Image courtesy of http://www.trekearth.com/gallery/Europe/Malta/South/Malta/Valletta/photo1396766.htm

Let’s say the green, ready-to-inspire, ready-to-act group is the beacon on the top of the buoy. They are visible, shine the light, and can direct people away from the rocks or mark a position. The middle section above the water is heftier. They are the yellow group, watching with hopeful intent that the beacon will indeed take them where they want to go. The red group are the ballast, bobbing just below the surface, providing an anchor and stability to the structure. Their reasons for staying in the water could be entirely reasonable, and there may be barriers they are not yet ready to overcome. This perspective is healthy, and spurs debate. Perhaps those ready to go are overlooking a valid point that may undermine long-term success. In their eagerness, a plan is not well-defined or executed, so a pull from below is necessary to evaluate the next steps.

Too much green, and the structure is top-heavy: chances are good it will topple over and float wherever the ocean decides. Too much yellow, and the beacon will be dim by comparison; although the buoy is a functional structure, initiating change is less aggressive, and will take a lot longer. Too much red, and more of the structure sinks into the depths, rendering it ineffective.

As far as I’m concerned, if we want to reach the sky, let’s make sure we foster a balance that keeps our buoy pointed up straight and tall.

 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.