Losing faith in humanity

I go into the pharmacy, short on my meds. I haven't taken my antidepressant for 12 hours and the withdrawal is severe. I have a headache and I am shaking and sobbing. My conscious movements are jerky and stiff. Even my breathing is strange and irregular. I am experiencing pain, and this is manifestly clear.

Nobody in the queue offers to let me go first. Some shoot annoyed-looking glances behind them. One asks me if I'm okay. I nod my head. I am not coherent enough to tell her that I am in pain but I that I know what is happening and that I will be better once I get this drug down me. She invites me to sit down. I shake my head. If I were coherent enough I would say that the problem is my head, not my feet. I stay as still as possible and try to dissociate. The woman invites me to sit down again. It occurs to me that she might be doing this to make her feel better, and not to make me feel better. So, fine. It is now time for speech. 'No thank you. I don't want to.'. She looks at me like I've just said something unreasonable.

It's my turn. I hand my prescription and insurance docs to the pharmacist. I wonder if I should apologise for the state I'm in. I decide not. I'm crying and shaking because I'm sick. It's not a moral failing to be sick. On the contrary, it's what this man is in a job for. Dealing with sick people can be socially awkward and messy, yes, but that is part of the job. This is an unpleasant situation; not an abusive one. I refuse, in myself, to apologise to the Pharmacist, or to show any signs of remorse for existing.

He studies the documents, raises an accusatory eyebrow at me and says "There's a problem here." I beg him, "Oh no, please no problems." I am both panicking because of the withdrawal and angry with the man. He had seen the name of the doctor and the word 'Psychiatric Consultant' at the top of the prescription. What did he expect me to do about a medical administrative problem while crying and shaking like this? He replied in a defensive voice, "Okay, okay. There aren't any problems!". He continued to look at my document. He chided me, '
"You have brought this to me one week after it was prescribed.
Prescriptions must be brought sooner than this. You have brought it too late!" At this I just lost it. A person comes to a medical service provider in a state of manifest psychiatric emergency and the very last thing they need from a medical professional is to be presented with administrative problems and criticised. I stammered, "I had some left from last time!" He came back at me with, "Well, you shouldn't have let your reserves run so low."

I splutter, "Yeah well I have a life!! When you're open, I'm at work!!!

The man goes into the back office and brings back 2 of the 3 boxes. He says, "We only have two. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

I said, "You said that last month and because of work I still haven't had a chance to collect them!!"

So, this was my life yesterday. Is it normal? Should it be normal?