Woof!

I'm getting to an age that surpasses my IQ and see my pharmacist more often than our children (by a multiple of ten or more).

I filled a prescription from the place I have my medications handled. I take enough of them that I should be required by law to discourage monopolies and have more than one pharmacy handle the paperwork. At least that's what I'd like to think. I went for decades paying health insurance premiums but never needing to do anything medical, but that hasn't been my complaint for more than a score of so of years.

How pompous was that? Seriously. What am I, the third runner-up in the "How Did You Like the Play, Mr. Lincoln?" contest? What were our mothers doing, I wonder, while our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation? 

And yeah, I am the kind of dork who uses score in an actual sentence, just as I say enhance where you might choose to say improve (and be wrong). I got Indian burns as a kid for being a bookworm, and now I don't care what you think of me.

Anyway, I was picking up a medicine I take only once a month. I sometimes question the sincerity of a physician who comes up with a medication a patient needs only once a month. What's the thinking there? "I want him to get better, but NOT too much better...once a month should be about right. Once a week, and he'd probably be cured. Once a day, and he'll be leaping tall buildings in a single bound. I don't want that! I've seen him in tights."

So I picked up the prescription, and the pharmacy technician explained my insurance would only authorize a ninety-day supply of three pills. Somehow, my heart will carry on, I guess. She then asked if I had any questions. Unfortunately, for her, I did. "What," I asked, "happened to Sandy?" 

She looked at me blankly. I explained to her that Sandy was a dog I had as a pet when we lived in Belford, New Jersey. I didn't add "when I was five years old." I didn't think it was germane to getting an answer to my question. She backed away slowly from the counter, which bothered me slightly, as we were already on opposite sides of it, and she was the one much closer to the drugs. 

Fearing, perhaps, she hadn't heard me, I repeated my question only louder, adding "Sandy was a Cocker Spaniel who tried to bite me." That is my whole memory of that animal. I hated that dog. So much for trying to get in good with her. 

Not even sharing that extra little bit helped. She stared at me evenly while demanding to know why I was asking her about my dog. Because I explained, you gave me permission when you asked if I had any questions.

"I meant about the medicine!" she offered with some force. I countered that it couldn't be my fault if I didn't understand what she meant since I could only hear what she said. The purchase was for less than five dollars-adding a whole new meaning to the phrase cheap thrill and I pocketed the change from a ten. I like to pay in cash sometimes when I'm feeling nostalgic; cash reminds me of when we were a powerful and feared nation and not a bunch of whiners afraid of a few questions about a dog that's been dead for decades.

The pharmacy technician seemed happy, almost too happy, as I walked away from the counter. I wonder when she'll realize that it's only a ninety-day reprieve. And that it's not Ol' Roy who's coming back for the rest of his party favors?
-bill kenny