Let's Not Meet Again

Covered in Blood, He Wanted A Hug

This happened a little over a decade ago when I was an undergrad. I worked as a pharmacy technician my Sophomore through Senior years. At a pharmacy you of course have regulars.

One regular was Joe. A mid-30s man with long straggly hair and an affinity for bizarre outfits. He was very sweet, but also very ill, mentally and physically. He was on a cocktail of anti-psychotics, anti-anxiety, anti-depression, etc. He was also on medicine for AIDs.

Normally, Joe came in with his mother, who took care of him. However, his mother was older and had her own health problems. Toward the end of my Junior year, Joe started coming in by himself. He couldn't drive, so he'd walk from his home or take a taxi.

Joe told me frequently that I looked like a young Michelle Pfeiffer. That I should be in LA, yada yada. Aside from curly, blonde hair, I never really saw a resemblance but okay. I was polite. Told him thanks. Asked how his mother was. Made general small talk while I rang up his scripts. He never gave me the "beware" vibe.

My senior year, Joe's mother came in without him and told us that Joe wasn't doing well. He was refusing to take his anti-psychotics, and she was getting too old to defend herself if Joe went into a rage. She was having him placed in a home for patients like Joe. I didn't know until that day, that Joe was technically under guardianship. The courts and his doctors deemed him too ill to make important financial and medical decisions. Joe's mother gave us a medical release, so that Joe's new home could send their staff to pick up his medicine.

We didn't see Joe for about 4 months. It was the end of my Senior year. A Friday night. Just me and the pharmacist were working because Friday nights are slow. I was reading a magazine when I heard, "Hey Michelle!" I'm not Michelle, so I didn't look up. Then an angry, "Michelle!!" and a slap on the counter in front of me, made me look up. It was Joe.

He was bleeding profusely, and he left a bloody hand print on the counter. I was shocked, and all I could do was slowly back away to put distance between myself and the very bloody Joe. The pharmacist came rushing over asking Joe what he was doing here, his home had picked up his meds on Tuesday.

"I wanted to see Michelle," said Joe. "I miss her." Then he started trying to open the waist-high door to get behind the pharmacy counter. The pharmacist called for the store manager and told the manager to call 911, while she called Joe's mother.

"Michelle, come here. Give me a hug." "No, I don't think that would be appropriate Joe." "GIVE ME A HUG." He just started screaming this over and over and attempting to climb over the counter.

The pharmacist told me to go into the back storage room and lock the door. This just pissed off Joe, and he started picking up items, which covered them in blood, and threw them at us.

It was a chaotic mess. A patron was about to attempt to subdue him, but the pharmacist and I both shouted not to touch him due to him being covered in blood and positive for HIV. We told the small crowd that had formed to leave for their safety as Joe was still flinging items and getting blood everywhere.

Eventually the police and EMT's arrived. The store manager must have explained the blood and HIV issue, because they had on protective gear (long gloves, face masks, etc.) and were able to force-ably sedate Joe.

The store had to be shut down and a special cleaning crew had to come in and clean the entire store. Joe's mother came to apologize after the store reopened. She explained that Joe had developed an obsession over me, and grew angrier and angrier each month when his home would not allow him to tag along to pick up his meds. He attacked one of the other home residents the night of the incident, so the home "grounded" him and sent him to his room. Joe broke his window and crawled out, through broken glass, and walked to the pharmacy. The home did not know he had broken out until his mother called frantically. His mother was considering suing the home for negligence, and she had Joe moved to a more secure mental health facility.