Pharmacy Phrenzy

Liam has a wiffle ball that came over the fence into our yard

The night we arrived home from Tampa, we stopped at CVS to pick up my prescription. I had called in this prescription before I left confident that it would be waiting here for me. I have spoken about it in my prior blog story "Tested in Tampa." My drug is klonopin and is my miracle drug calming my restless leg, and inducing sleep eventually. I had some remaining but our Tampa visit had upped my klonopin ingestion and brought me down to a scary pill total. Facing no sleep, a restless leg after our life altering trip was not what I needed on my agenda. I had prepared for this eventuality. No last minute stuff for me. I approached the high countered pharmacy (soon they might be bullet proofed like banks) and asked for my prescription. By the fumbling going on, I soon realized that it was not under McNiff, or Carol or in the "in tray" pile. I have often observed or possibly imagined an elitist attitude in the pharmacy. Needless remarks like "Do you know you have no refills on this one?" when initially submitting a prescription. No, I didn't. Thanks, let me now worry for the month.
Or, "You have waited too long, this prescription form is too old, it must be submitted timely to be filled." Well, I did come in timely and you said it was too soon. A pharmaceutical smirk follows with an insincere "Sorry."
Or, "Are you sure you still want this?" Well, why would I be here?
Or "Sorry, we only have a few, can you come back?" Sure, I cannot wait to come back.

This night, March 24, night of the day of my mother's death, I am here in CVS, but my refilled prescription is not. Two persons behind the counter are explaining that my miracle drug needs an entirely new written prescription. They cannot call for me. "Okay, but I called," I say. "They should have told you the rule. This is a controlled substance and no phone call either way is acceptable.
Then I lose it. "What am I supposed to do? What if I cannot sleep? Why didn't the doctor's office call me?" (a question very unfair I know). I am building up with the steam of a lunatic sleep deprived person. I have seen folks fall to pieces at the pharmacist, cry, sob. try to climb over the counter and choke the pharmacist. I am fast on the way to being one of those demented individuals.
Paul pulls me away. He tells me firmly " Stop, there is nothing that can be done tonight."
We leave. I do not dare turn. I imagine victorious grins, drug supply in the pharmacy intact.

The next day, I resolve it, return with my written prescription, and thank goodness, the team from the night before is off duty. Whew. I hope by the time I see them again, they will have no memory of our encounter from the night before.
I continue to have all sorts of crazy minor maladies. My head never clears from the flight, my ears hurt for days, my impaired hearing is even more so.
I start to feel very anxious if I am not near a bathroom.
After 2 weeks of ignoring my symptoms and taking Advil I wake up last Wednesday and I know that no amount of cranberry juice cranberryjuice.com/ will fix me now. Gallons would be needed and I might drown. I know what is wrong and here is the link womenshealth.about.com/cs/bladderhealth/a/UTI.htm
I know it, I have self diagnosed. I must get the proper drugs for a cure.
The pain of sitting, walking, of just being, is suddenly so excruciating that I wonder how I will drive Sassy to StatMed (like a First Med).

I do drive; I can scream out aloud in the car. I park in King Kullen parking lot across the street from StatMed not noticing there are spots right in front. This causes a 5-minute delay getting across Jericho; zooming cars, no chance of running between them, pain increasing exponentially. I open the StatMed door, no one is waiting. Questions. I answer- "yes, I have been here, yes, I have the same coverage," yes, yes, let me in!!!

I am deposited in a waiting room, give my sample in the bathroom, confirms my illness, doctor comes in. I am reading USA Today standing. I explain, I cannot sit and reading is a distraction. Do not want her to think, this is casual or bearable at all. She sends me out with a sympathetic touch on the shoulder, writes the prescription. Then the two receptionists, a trainee and mentor, explore my record to see what my co pay is. As a retired manager, I recognize a mentoring situation and as a promoter of teamwork, I admire their shared mission, except not now when I need to get pain pills in me. Minutes are going by, and I am minutes away from screaming in pain in the waiting room, not good for business. Mentor/trainee say in unison "We are trying to find your co pay." I say "Take my credit card, my car, my ring, I will leave all with you as collateral, I need to go to CVS now. "No, we almost have it-their thrill in the hunt has totally obscured me as a client/patient/. "Almost," trainee says. "Almost," mentor chimes in, they get it-I throw the money, rush out, cross Jericho as if I am a contestant on the "Amazing Race" get in Sassy and go. Arrive at CVS, run down the aisle. Oh no, my team from March 24 is on duty! Will they exact revenge? I announce, "I need this now, please." I add, I am sorry for my behavior two weeks ago, my Mother had died that day and I was ragged. Now I have this ailment and I might soon act much worse than I did then." The two women are silent, they confer, check the prescription-cipro antibiotic and pheno for pain, they know what these drugs are for and that I am desperate in my need of relief. They work as a team, get it done. Two bottles. They tell me "Your reaction 2 weeks ago was mild. People scale the counter. We get death threats."

I race back down the aisle, jump into Sassy, I take the required pills. Then read. Oh no, the pain ones MUST be taken with food. I know this instruction to be serious and not observing it results in a hole in one's stomach. Been there. I reenter CVS, grab a bag of chips, only one person on line, No, no. It is a coupon lady. I have seen such folks in the supermarket, rarely in CVS. The drugstore cart is bulging with her items many tumbling out; drugstore carts are tiny-not compatible with coupons. Her pile of coupons is high and she has 8x10 Internet ones also. I could rip open the bag of chips and eat them. Her coupons do not scan, manager is called. I run out, dropping the chips on the way. How much time do I have before the pheno pills eat away my stomach lining. Is it doing it now? I am in a pheno phrenzy. Back in Sassy, drive back to King Kullen, get rice chips, 10 items or less line, today honest people there- no 20 itemers. Start eating. I know that the pain pills kick in within 25 minutes. I drive to the gym. Gym? you ask. I cannot go home, our housekeeper is there, I do not want her to see me in this weakened condition. At the gym, people grunt, most are plugged into IPods singing off key, weights are crashing, bikes whirring, feet pounding treadmills, sports fans cheering with the 6 TVs- all noises are deemed to be exercise related therefore appropriate.
I am in the best place in which to recover under cover.
Within half hour, I am back to my game face.
The course of treatment is one week. I am done.

How did I get this? Most folks might have some ideas, but I actually know exactly without a doubt what has happened. Liam. He sleeps in the den at my feet, curled up on his pillow. I will never disturb him once he is there. Any time I feel the need to go to the bathroom during the night and believe me there are many, I just ignore it. I got sick because I adhered strictly to the idiomatic proverb
"Let sleeping dogs lie"

I should have followed another popular statement"When you gotta go, you gotta go"

woof, woof

Liam liking it outside "come in, Liam" okay, here I come