Pharmacist (aka drug dealer): I’m aware (not looking at me)
me: they said you could...uh...spot me a couple?
Pharmacist: (evil grin, still not looking at me) Did they? (little evil chuckle)
me: (voice quavering...) Yes?
Pharmacist: (looks at me, all serious now) you need to stay on top of this.
me: (humbly looking down) I will try
Pharmacist: will you? (skeptical) Try harder (glancing to the left and right, she reaches into her pocket…she’s reaching!! I swear I hear angels singing)
me: (practically falling to my knees, head down, arms raised in surrender) I will! I can do this! I promise. Never again.
pharmacist: (quietly, glancing again) Okay. Here’s 2 pills, but this is the last time.
me: gushing, weeping, clumsily scaling the desk to fall on her shoulders in a messy hug, simultaneously gulping down a pill, no water.
So, yeah, it's thyroid medication for my sluggish thyroid, aka hypo-thyroidism, arguably the most common issue for women today. Okay, I just Googled it. 10% of women. So maybe not the most common, but it is one of those conditions where the symptoms are generally pretty vague and when you begin the medication, the results are also generally pretty vague.
BUT! I am a little obsessed with taking it each day at the same time like you are supposed to. I have irrational fears of “something really bad happening” if I don’t. That could be put down to an un-diagnosed case of OCD and having nothing at all to do with my thyroid. And yet I can never remember to get the prescription renewed in time (let’s just call procrastination another symptom) so I have to suffer this humiliation with my pharmacist when I am at the end of the bottle. Every single month. This typically happens on a Friday afternoon, of course, when my doctor bails out of the office at around noon and I'm left with no medication or hope of getting any until the following Monday.
It happens so frequently that I’ve taken to scattering them around the house in little corners and backs of drawers so that if (I mean when) I forget to renew, I’ll have little back-ups. I’m kind of dreading the day my daughters stumble upon me wildly tossing things out of drawers, up-ending dressers, crawling under beds, hoping to find the tiny pill I stashed. Think that might be a low point.
They would probably call that "rock-bottom".
There must be some sort of hotline I could call?