Deborah Hill Cone: Give me the medicine, not a lecture

It was Kenalog with Orabase. Not a Swedish pop band, but a dental paste containing 0.1 per cent tramcinolone acetonide "for topical use in adjunctive treatment of oral lesions". It tastes horrid. Not exactly a recreational drug. But to buy a tube of this mouth ulcer ointment ($10.99) I had to take a number (23), wait in line to have a "chat" with a pharmacist, then hand over my personal details.

When they say "chat", what they mean is a bossy patronising lecture in front of the rest of the ogling punterage. This was the not the first time I had been ordered to have a "chat" with a pharmacist. (Can you order someone to have a "chat"? Surely, a "chat" involves some element of over-the-teacups reciprocity?) Still, it was chatty-booms when I tried to buy some eye drops and another time when I wanted a regular itchy bite cream; both drugs which are known to make a party swing. And you can imagine the Guantanamo-level interrogation I received when I tried to buy a packet of mind-altering Codral to treat a snuffle. Despite being well-known to the Devonport pharmacist, she seemed convinced I was about to lug myself up the road to set up a P lab with 12 tabs of pseudoephedrine. This, despite the fact I had a red nose and was craving chicken soup rather than party drugs.

Welcome to the regime of so-called "over the counter" (OTC) medications. Frankly, it is easier to go to a doctor and get something on prescription than buy a preparation over the counter. At least when a script is filled you don't get the third degree: "Have you taken Prozac before? How often?" Are we all deemed to be imbeciles, incapable of reading the supporting documentation on OTC drugs? Or is this just some save-a-pharmacist scheme to keep nervy drug dispensers, their jobs under threat from the helpful PubMed, feeling special? If so, giving condescending advice to your customers in public is not the way to do it.

Or maybe we are a Peter Pan nation, where people are never allowed to become grown-ups who can look after themselves. After so many years of Aunty Helen bossing us about, we have acquired learned helplessness. What next? A lecture from the dairy owner about saturated fat when you try to buy a slab of chocolate? "Have you ever eaten Dairy Milk before? How often?" Strangely, I get a telling-off when I buy eyedrops, but not when I buy cigarettes. Go figure.

The Pharmacy Guild says "for advice about health and medicine we encourage you to go and see your local pharmacist". Er, pardon me, but isn't that what doctors are for? Perhaps it is time for us to admit we don't really need pharmacists anymore. Machines can put a packet of pills in a box: probably more reliably. Or we could all just buy our drugs online. Hey, I'd be happy to have a "chat" with a pharmacist about it.

deborah@coneandco.com