The light side of pharmacology


Oh, my word! I just went back and read some of my recent posts. What an old sob sister!!! I want to thank those of you who’ve been kind enough to put up with my bloody angst, but damn it, you deserve better.

I just had a good laugh. I went to make my breakfast, and you know what I found next to the microwave? All the pills I was supposed to take yesterday! I thought I’d taken them, too. Most of them looked fine, but it seems that some water got spilled on my thyroid pills and my Citalopram (or as my kids call them, Mama’s Crazy Pills). Since most of my meds are useless anyway, I took them in their distressed state. Maybe they’ll work better.

When I had a job, I would have my breakfast at home, and have the pills when I got to the office. My boss walked in on the ritual one time, horrified to see me swallowing a handful of meds. I raised my cup of coffee to her, and said, “Breakfast with Miss Judy Garland!” She wasn’t amused. “What are they for?” she asked. “Well, those four keep me alive and the fifth one stops me from killing myself.” She still wasn’t amused, of course, but it was the truth. Back then, I took a thyroid pill to give me energy (it doesn’t), a blue and white pill to keep my blood pressure down, one blue pill to help me pee, so I won’t get bloated, a white pill to keep me from peeing at inappropriate moments, and dear, sweet Citalopram… the only one that works… the one that keeps me from falling into the deepest depths of depression.

Since then, I’ve added three green Advils every morning and a red and gray capsule to help me poop…which it does… every three or four days. This upsets my husband and my son more than I can tell you. They run like German trains, and take great pride in the fact that whatever enters their bodies leaves swiftly and predictably. Their obsession with colonic regularity certainly comes from my dear, late mother-in-law. No matter what was ailing you, she always had a sure cure for any ills you may have reported to her. “Take a suppository!”

Right around now, you’re wondering, “Why am I reading this blog? Why is this woman sharing information about her pills, and her family’s bowel habits?”

Suck it up, Buttercup. This is a blog about an old lady who was forcibly retired, and is now sitting at home with her four cats, typing into a little purple laptop so her brains don’t become as sluggish as her… you know.

If you’re my age, I hope you’re in better shape… unless you’re not, in which case I’ll be happy to commiserate with you. If you’re young, I stand here before you as the sad result of sybaritic living. I’m not going to tell you to stop having fun, but please… after each ice cream sandwich, do a pushup.

You know, I’m feeling pretty damn feisty. Maybe the thyroid pill worked better this way!



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