Post by Tim Collins on Jun 22, 2009 9:57:18 GMT -7
www.tulsaworld.com/site/printerfriendlystory.aspx?articleid=20090621_211_G1_TheTul672039
Miracle Rx: Drug-recycling program celebrates milestones
by: JANET PEARSON Associate Editor
Sunday, June 21, 2009
6/21/2009 3:44:07 AM
The idea at first seemed so simple, so obvious, it kind of spooked state lawmakers.
If recycling unused prescriptions to benefit the needy was such a great idea, why wasn't anyone else doing it? That was a question Linda Johnston heard countless times during the years she and a band of tireless advocates fought for legislation permitting such a pilot program.
In the end, it likely was a clever marketing ploy — children's candies packaged to look like prescription drugs — that finally won enough lawmakers over to their side.
Well, whatever works.
Now, at least three dozen states have legislation allowing unneeded prescriptions which used to be discarded by long-term care facilities to be provided to needy people who can't afford their medications. And Tulsa County's program is the template used to start up many of these new endeavors.
Earlier this month, the Tulsa County Social Services department, which administers the program through its pharmacy, and others who were instrumental in creating the program celebrated nearly five years in operation, and this incredible milestone: more than $5.1 million in recycled meds distributed to needy county residents. That was the estimated wholesale value to date; Johnston, director of social services, estimates the retail value would exceed $7 million.
And how much have taxpayers had to fork over for this program? A whopping $1,435.
A dedicated cadre of 27 retired physicians provides the wheels to transport the meds from the 56 participating long-term care facilities that previously would have flushed the unneeded meds down the toilet, creating who-knows-what kind of strange brew at the end of the pipeline. To date, the 975 transports the docs-on-wheels have made have enabled the filling of nearly 51,000 prescriptions, and at the same time helped prevent our sewage system from becoming a dangerous cauldron.
Back to that question Johnston kept hearing: "The reason nobody else was doing it," she kept telling lawmakers, "is because nobody else had Dr. George Prothro. He'd whack me on the head for saying that if he were standing here, but it's true."
Indeed it is, as those of us who've worked with the kindly but passionate Prothro can confirm. And of course he wouldn't hurt a fly, but he would protest mightily that he couldn't have pulled off this feat all by himself.
Prothro kept up a drumbeat throughout the late 1990s about the waste of discarding perfectly good medications, and persuaded some good foot soldiers along the way to join the recycling crusade, including Johnston's crew and the Tulsa County Medical Society. Prothro and Dr. Jerry Gustafson became the heart and soul of an impressive and energetic corps of retired physicians known as the "Golden Oldies" who to this day fetch the available meds from nursing homes and take them to the county pharmacy.
Local medical researcher Mike Lapolla was enlisted to come up with research that ultimately demonstrated a favorable cost-benefit outcome to the concept, as all hoped.
By the end of the '90s the idea was gaining more favor, but lawmakers still weren't quite sold. In fact, some supporters were losing hope. But then someone came up with a stroke of genius.
"After some frustrating years of failing to get an enabling bill passed by the Oklahoma Legislature, we employed a creative marketing strategy that really seemed to work," recalled Johnston. "We had Unit-Dosed cards made up with M&Ms in each of the compartments, and had them labeled with a plea to support the bill. Soon this bill became known as the 'M&M Bill' and was quickly passed by the esteemed Oklahoma Legislature."
That was in 2001, but the work was far from done. Now the recycling advocates had to figure out how to make the program work.
The county's pharmacy was key to distribution, but nobody knew the nuts and bolts of getting the meds from nursing homes to needy recipients.
Time and again Johnston, Prothro and others huddled in meeting rooms, working out wrinkle after wrinkle. Countless issues with pharmaceutical suppliers, long-term care facilities and state and federal regulators had to be worked out.
By the fall of 2003, the pilot program was running smoothly, and by the next year, more legislation was passed to expand and solidify the fledgling program.
Since then, the program has been repeatedly recognized and honored at the local, state and national level for its innovation and efficiency.
Then there's the people side of the program.
"You cannot recycle $5 million dollars worth of medication and not value the impact that this program has had on real people. Just last week, a gentleman who was getting his prescriptions filled via this program shared with me that he would literally be dead were it not for this program," said Johnston. "He said that he is on several medications that are very expensive, and he could not even begin to pay for them with his limited income.
"This program is an incredible illustration of how public and private entities being supported by dedicated volunteers can have a lasting impact on real people for very little money. I humbly honor all of our partners who have made this program such a success."
We'll second that sentiment.
Miracle Rx: Drug-recycling program celebrates milestones
by: JANET PEARSON Associate Editor
Sunday, June 21, 2009
6/21/2009 3:44:07 AM
The idea at first seemed so simple, so obvious, it kind of spooked state lawmakers.
If recycling unused prescriptions to benefit the needy was such a great idea, why wasn't anyone else doing it? That was a question Linda Johnston heard countless times during the years she and a band of tireless advocates fought for legislation permitting such a pilot program.
In the end, it likely was a clever marketing ploy — children's candies packaged to look like prescription drugs — that finally won enough lawmakers over to their side.
Well, whatever works.
Now, at least three dozen states have legislation allowing unneeded prescriptions which used to be discarded by long-term care facilities to be provided to needy people who can't afford their medications. And Tulsa County's program is the template used to start up many of these new endeavors.
Earlier this month, the Tulsa County Social Services department, which administers the program through its pharmacy, and others who were instrumental in creating the program celebrated nearly five years in operation, and this incredible milestone: more than $5.1 million in recycled meds distributed to needy county residents. That was the estimated wholesale value to date; Johnston, director of social services, estimates the retail value would exceed $7 million.
And how much have taxpayers had to fork over for this program? A whopping $1,435.
A dedicated cadre of 27 retired physicians provides the wheels to transport the meds from the 56 participating long-term care facilities that previously would have flushed the unneeded meds down the toilet, creating who-knows-what kind of strange brew at the end of the pipeline. To date, the 975 transports the docs-on-wheels have made have enabled the filling of nearly 51,000 prescriptions, and at the same time helped prevent our sewage system from becoming a dangerous cauldron.
Back to that question Johnston kept hearing: "The reason nobody else was doing it," she kept telling lawmakers, "is because nobody else had Dr. George Prothro. He'd whack me on the head for saying that if he were standing here, but it's true."
Indeed it is, as those of us who've worked with the kindly but passionate Prothro can confirm. And of course he wouldn't hurt a fly, but he would protest mightily that he couldn't have pulled off this feat all by himself.
Prothro kept up a drumbeat throughout the late 1990s about the waste of discarding perfectly good medications, and persuaded some good foot soldiers along the way to join the recycling crusade, including Johnston's crew and the Tulsa County Medical Society. Prothro and Dr. Jerry Gustafson became the heart and soul of an impressive and energetic corps of retired physicians known as the "Golden Oldies" who to this day fetch the available meds from nursing homes and take them to the county pharmacy.
Local medical researcher Mike Lapolla was enlisted to come up with research that ultimately demonstrated a favorable cost-benefit outcome to the concept, as all hoped.
By the end of the '90s the idea was gaining more favor, but lawmakers still weren't quite sold. In fact, some supporters were losing hope. But then someone came up with a stroke of genius.
"After some frustrating years of failing to get an enabling bill passed by the Oklahoma Legislature, we employed a creative marketing strategy that really seemed to work," recalled Johnston. "We had Unit-Dosed cards made up with M&Ms in each of the compartments, and had them labeled with a plea to support the bill. Soon this bill became known as the 'M&M Bill' and was quickly passed by the esteemed Oklahoma Legislature."
That was in 2001, but the work was far from done. Now the recycling advocates had to figure out how to make the program work.
The county's pharmacy was key to distribution, but nobody knew the nuts and bolts of getting the meds from nursing homes to needy recipients.
Time and again Johnston, Prothro and others huddled in meeting rooms, working out wrinkle after wrinkle. Countless issues with pharmaceutical suppliers, long-term care facilities and state and federal regulators had to be worked out.
By the fall of 2003, the pilot program was running smoothly, and by the next year, more legislation was passed to expand and solidify the fledgling program.
Since then, the program has been repeatedly recognized and honored at the local, state and national level for its innovation and efficiency.
Then there's the people side of the program.
"You cannot recycle $5 million dollars worth of medication and not value the impact that this program has had on real people. Just last week, a gentleman who was getting his prescriptions filled via this program shared with me that he would literally be dead were it not for this program," said Johnston. "He said that he is on several medications that are very expensive, and he could not even begin to pay for them with his limited income.
"This program is an incredible illustration of how public and private entities being supported by dedicated volunteers can have a lasting impact on real people for very little money. I humbly honor all of our partners who have made this program such a success."
We'll second that sentiment.