Doing a drug run from Spain is an act of mercy, given Irish pharmaceutical prices
A DRUG dealer I am not - yet time and again I find myself obliging friends by buying their medicines in my local farmacia in a Spanish town.
I go to Spain about every two months, to my own "casa on the hill", which I bought about three years ago and gutted to make habitable.
Since the word went out that I've become a Spanish commuter, I find myself doing a "drugs run" for people of a certain age like myself. The drugs are branded medicines which cost around a third to half of the price in Ireland. And, because the health service here is a chaotic mishmash, friends pay me to purchase their much-needed medications in a Spanish pharmacy.
They have a common complaint. Although in PRSI theory they qualify for State subsidy, such is the degree of labour involved in declaring to a bureaucrat on the end of a phone the colour of their grandmothers' eyes, as evidence of their entitlement, they would rather spare themselves the stress and pay me the cost of queuing on a sunny morning in Spain, especially as a standard order is for medicines which lower blood pressure
For instance, the cost in Spain of cholesterol-zapper Coversyl (5 mg) is €20.12 for a month's supply, compared to €30.55 in the Republic. As users tend to be prescribed long-term dosage, some of my fellow travellers save enough to cover their airfare - with a holiday thrown in - plus the benefit of sun, once they survive passage through Dublin Airport without banging their blood pressure up the Richter scale.
That age group mainly need medications for mild heart complaints, blood pressure and cholesterol - the ailments of my contemporaries of a certain age. Never mind that most "did the State some service" in public or private capacities, as teachers or public servants. Now in retirement, they find themselves strapped to pay for lifelong medication at Irish prices.
So, on any weekday commuter run to Malaga, via Airbus, you will find many, like myself, coyly making lists for acquaintances, friends and family members. A common order is for Pravastatina Acost (20 mg) whose Spanish branding is easily checkable against the English-language equivalent. A month's supply will cost €18, compared to €60 here.
As users are likely to require decades of daily usage at a tablet per day, you can work out those savings over, say, a 10-year outlay. Add, too, more serious medications, which, like the above, require doctor's prescriptions in a cartel-controlled Ireland but which are easily purchasable over the counter at my local farmacia.
Just as well, as in one case of a serious heart condition, I have saved a family thousands which the Irish health service failed to provide, even though the main wage-earner had spent his adult working life paying taxes, with just about enough left to put his children through third-level education.
All this is of sublime disinterest to the chemist in my Spanish town, who opens at 8.30am and already has a queue, composed of native medical-card holders and expatriate customers.
The chemist is responsible, hard working and, I sense, has a feeling of "obligado" to his customers, whatever their origin. All I need to do is show him the relevant branded packet, he will consult his directory, double-check the dosage and, after a rummage, produce the Spanish equivalent of the medicine. The difference in cost is stark.
The Spanish chemist shows no surprise. Behind me in the queue is a trail of foreign purchasers. And so I find myself, a week or so later, with a packed bag of medications, which will make an economic difference to a few families.
As to the current case of Irish chemists pleading the poor mouth in maintaining their costs: I know you are hard-working and, for the most part, have a strong sense of public service. Well forgive me, pharmacologists, but you fail to convince on prices. Not least because, in common with lawyers and publicans, chemists have been among the major purchasers of investment property during the boom. And, rather like publicans, some of your shops have sold for astronomical prices. Should I be surprised?