Bridget O’Hearn is one of the last of a sadly diminishing breed, the local independent pharmacist. It is not easy for anyone to go up against corporate chain stores, but Bridget is holding her own, the town is very committed to her. She is ferociously competitive, and she shows the people of the town every day that customer service is not a slogan, but an art. It makes all the difference when you mean it.
it is a love affair, really everyone in town has a story about Bridget coming in to open the pharmacy for them, dropping off Dad’s medications as he lay stricken, calling doctors on the phone to negotiate better medications, talking to insurance companies about reimbursements and plans.
Today, Maria and I are have succumbed to raging fevers – Maria hit 102.7 a while ago, I can’t get her to eat soup or salad, but she did have biscotti and a heart cookie for lunch. The best I could do. Our day began at the pharmacy.
I have been coughing since sometime last night, and I hope to get my hands on some codeine-based cough syrup before bedtime, it is my favorite medicine. If I do, the blog will be very happy tomorrow. I’ve seen Bridget several times today, she is a wonder, helpful, patient, knowledgeable, empathetic.
She deals with governments, doctors, insurance companies, pharmaceutical corporations, corporate chain-store competition, every kind of red tape imaginable, and does not ever lose her grace or steadiness. Bridget has a lot to squawk about, but she never complains. She always listens, always has a smile and a good word, She is an unusual human being, we all appreciate her here. The pharmacy has been in her family for decades, she took over from her father.
Apart from the usual, this has been a time of trial for her, the building next door has been condemned for years and has been in danger of collapsing, in November, it almost did. The town told Bridget that customers could no longer be allowed in the pharmacy, as there was a fear the building would collapse on it – it was visibly buckling. Bridget was allowed to stay in the pharmacy with her hardhat, customers were steered to an adjoining door next door, open to a tiny room staffed by the redoubtable Margaret, who sticks a label from every purchase up and down her arms all day so she can keep track of what has been sold. By evening, she looks like a modernist sculpture.
It was inconvenient for everyone, especially Bridget and Margaret, and the long lines were challenging in that tiny space. Bridget engages with all of her customers, it was strange not to see her head bobbing behind the counter as she sorted her pills. For months, there was no sign of progress, no relief in sight. People were getting worried.
It was a very real crisis for Bridget, since people couldn’t buy all of the things she sells in her store along with drugs to keep the pharmacy going. And all of this just before Christmas. People had to while Margaret took orders and rushed back and forth down a hallway back to the pharmacy next door, where only Bridget was allowed, working by her phone with her pills in her hardhat. Margaret was running back and forth all day between the customers and the pharmacy, she looked raggedy some days but never lost her poise.
People in the town were worried that the crisis might cause Bridget to go under – there were rumors that she would have to close for safety reasons because of the condemned building, but the community rallied to her. Bridget is much loved and appreciated, a very powerful reminder of what it means to be known by an ethical human being who cares about her customers. People waited patiently in lines, they lobbied the town government to get the demolition underway, they bought the gifts and over-the-counter medicines Bridget rolled out front on portable stands.
In the meantime, Bridget manned the phones as always, taking everybody’s call, answering everyone’s questions, badgering doctors, soothing the fearful and the disturbed. In the months since the pharmacy was closed to customers, only one person is known to have taken his business elsewhere, a grumpy older man who refused to wait in any line.
It is a powerful testament to the state of American health care to see the townspeople come into Bridget’s story and seek help about medications, insurance and side affects. Often, they are seeking comfort and understanding. They all get help, I have gotten quite a bit since my open heart surgery. Bridget even came to our Open House in October, I was happy to introduce my pharmacist to the crowd.
On January 27, – Bridget calls it “Demolition Day,” the building next door is slated to finally come down. She is considering a block party, or a celebration, or a “Grand Re-Opening” as she puts it. Today, people began dropping off champagne to celebrate her triumph and survival. Everyone who comes in asks about it, is excited about it. This morning, Maria and I went to get some medicine for our burgeoning fevers and we spent a half-hour with Bridget, talking about Disney World, vacation and Demolition Day. We both know how lucky we are to have her.
It will be a big day here, the old-timers love to see demolitions, and we are eager to celebrate the Grand-Re-opening, see that wobbly building come down and honor the survival of a sliver of community in the Corporate Nation. Bridget reminds us of what so many have lost, and we still have and we will all fight to the end to keep her here.