Jump to content
  • entries
    47
  • comments
    170
  • views
    31,384

Drug Wars (maybe other things)

Sign in to follow this  
Razor

195 views

Skip my bullshit minor problems if you want a good story and scroll to the bottom.

 

On 12.11.18 I went to go get my meds from Walgreens, the ones I have to take or I die (anti-rejection meds), and they only had a partial refill.  I thought fine, I have plenty of extra for a few days just in case, and you'll obviously reorder, so that's okay, I assume pharmacies overnight their drugs when needed.  

 

Last Sunday I called.  No answer after fifteen minutes, the phone just disconnected.  I gave up because I was about to have to work.  

 

Monday I called, no answer.  Monday night I went in physically and asked for my drugs.  "Don't have them, outta stock, but we'll have them Wednesday."  

 

I freaked out 'cause I'd taken the last of my extra the night before, so I was like don't freak out, it's going to be okay, just handle this.  My mom got outraged, she called them the next day, Tuesday, and they then magically had exactly enough for one dose.  I went in Tuesday night and picked that up and was assured they would have what I needed the next day.

 

Called Wednesday, took a while but I finally got a person, who said no, they're not in.  But I can call tomorrow to check.  I don't feel up to arguing most times, I'm tired, and in pain, and I don't want to be a mean person or take out my frustrations on someone who can't do anything about it, so I let that go.

 

I have decided, however, to declare a vendetta against Walgreens.  I intend to wake up tomorrow (today?) much earlier than I should, and find these drugs elsewhere.  They're not commonly carried, so that'll be an issue, but I am sure that some pharmacy in the area must have them, so I shall check.  But I will never shop at Walgreens again.  

 

They have officially tried to murder me twice, and I do not appreciate that.  Fool me once and all that jazz.  I hold extremely long grudges, so I'll just make sure to spread the word that they failed to deliver not once, but twice, and maybe some folks will switch to CVS.  I'm not going to get anywhere by just yelling about it, but I like to take quiet revenge, like hurting their bottom line in sales.  One dose of my medication is $83.69, so I mean... who's really gonna suffer here, me because you didn't do what you were supposed to, or you because I'm gonna fuck your wallet like a meth-head in heat?  

 

Before you say anything 1.) I only use Walgreens because they're the only 24-hour pharmacy where I live and I work nights and the stress and depression and anxiety make it such that I need what little sleep I can get when I can get it, so they're convenient and 2.) Yes they are a corporation and they probably don't care that much about my business but it's still nice to take my business elsewhere and make sure others do the same so that they can't milk me for insurance money for an overpriced prescription which literally costs a few cents to manufacture (and the manufacturer gets government money because it's designated an orphan drug, so don't talk to me about how they have R&D overhead or some such nonsense, they have no reason to price this so far out of reach of the common public, and I know I should be mad at the drug manufacturer for that, but Walgreens buys the drug and sells it and PBMs get kickbacks for charging my insurance far more than it really costs, so maybe they should be the ones to take corporate responsibility and pressure the manufacturer to lower their cost so it IS more widely available and not so terribly expensive).  

 

On other notes, I have been told I am beautiful twice in the last 48 hours.  My roommate's friend was on Facetime with my roommate, and she asked to see me, then declared "WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE, I WOULD BANG YOU IF YOU WEREN'T GAY!"  Another person told me that I am "...a beautiful person with a beautiful personality.  I hope you realize this.  I want you to be happy because you deserve it.  All the selfless things you do, it amazes me.  Don't ask me why, I'm just in my feelings and speaking from the heart.  Your iPhone may not like it when you smile but I sure do."

 

I have a running joke with this person about how my iPhone won't unlock if I'm smiling when I hold it up, the facial recognition doesn't work if I'm grinnin' like a fool.  

 

I do take issue with the quote I just put out.  I feel selfish.  I feel like he overestimates me, like I'm not that great, I just... I do the bare minimum.  But then I rethink that and I think the bare minimum for me is more than what others might do, so maybe he's right (he also has shit parents, he seems very sad about himself on the inside but projects an air of certainty and bravado almost, so maybe he's just asking for me to continue treating him nicely, which makes me doubly sad because he should never feel that way, he's beautiful, inside and out, and I love him even when I hate him, but that's a random psychological aside)?  I have to come up with more objective, logical criteria to evaluate his assumption, but I appreciate his sentiment, it made me cry for half a second and made me feel like what I do actually matters sometimes.  I'm conflicted, because it's nice to hear this from him, because praise from him is rare, but I also feel like I don't really deserve it, I'm not special, I just try as best I can, and a lot of the time I fall short.  I guess I need to stop analyzing and just take it for what it truly is, a heartfelt compliment that he didn't have to say to but felt he should, and those are the best compliments, ones that you're not socially pressured to give but give from the bottom of your heart.  

 

My gas station lady that I talk to all the time invited me to her wedding, and the reception.  I might go.  I mean I'm glad for her, she works hard.  Long, thankless hours.  I might as well show up and clap for her in her happy moment.  Maybe buy her a tiny gift, something she and her fiancee might be able to use, practical but inexpensive and thoughtful.  Besides, when else can I rent a tux and show the fuck out?  I'm an adult, we don't get to do that often.  

 

I've been making a point to be grateful for things in my life.  Like yeah man, it might suck being half crippled and in pain and depressed and anxious and can't get your drugs and work gives you hassles BUT!: if you make a list of things for which to be grateful, maybe that cancels out the negative.  Maybe it makes life better.  There's been a lot of studies about gratefulness, and they all show the same thing, which amounts to a cliched phrase: count your blessings.  Negative bias doesn't have to be a thing if you recognize it for what it really is, just your brain concentrating on bad things instead of good things.

 

So I just tell myself, do blessing math.  And then myself screams because I'm bad at math but I like the idea.  But still gonna try it, because it's logical.  

 

Also, my mother wrote a short story today and sent it to me.  I am so glad she did, I love the idea of her spreading her ideas and thoughts because they're always so helpful and kind and thoughtful.  I'm gonna leave this here for you guys, and I promise to tell her what you think of it, because she needs encouragement and positive thoughts because she's fucking amazing.  But remember if she ever becomes an author I swear to Christ I'm gonna need each of you to pay three dollars to read it, because she deserves that money, and if you don't I will come for you.  This follows:

 

 

THIS IS THE MAIN EVENT YOU GUYS I AM SO EXCITED THAT SHE IS WRITING AND MAKING SUCH WONDERFUL STORIES.  

 

 

Thursday is wash day.  Every Thursday.  Up at 5:00 am, no matter what the weather.  It can be cold, hot, raining, snowing, but it doesn't matter because it is wash day.  It is Thursday.  And I hate it.

 

The clock goes off and it is 5:00 am.  It is Thursday.  I climb out from under my warm covers and I make coffee.  I dress myself and check in on four sleeping children before stepping outside.  It is forty-eight degrees and a steady wind is coming out of the north as I light the fire under my pot.  The whole world is gray, even my hands look gray.  There is no sun to chase away the chill.  I filled the pot up with water yesterday to get as much of a jump on things as I could.  I go back to the porch and drag the first load off to the pot and wait until the water begins to bubble.  Before this day is over, I will have washed bed linens, towels, and clothes for six people.  It's what I do every week.  I start every wash day the same.  I tell myself that I will not cry today.  But I do.  I cry every Thursday.  And I hate it.

 

I drop in the sheets first and go back to the house to start breakfast and wake him up.  He has to be at work at 6:30.  I make a pan of biscuits and a pan of gravy and five sack lunches.  I set the table, pour two cups of coffee - one with cream and sugar, one plain - then I go wake him.  We sit until he finishes his coffee and then he leans over, kisses me on the cheek, and then goes to wake the kids as I go outside.  I don't see him again until 6:30 that evening when he comes home.

 

The sheets are ready.  I dip them out of the boiling pot and put them over into the wash tub and run some water over them to cool them down a bit.  Then I dump the next load into the pot.  I scrub the sheet on the wash board.  I try to be careful not to slop it over onto my shoes, but by the end of the day, it will happen.  The front of my dress gets all the way through my slip down to my panties and up to my bra.  No matter how carefully I start out, it always happens.  And by now the sun is peeking out a bit.  I run the sheets through the wringer and drop them into my rinse water.  I stir them with a heavy stick and feel the muscles in my back and belly start to pull.  I run them through the wringer again, rinse them again, wring them twice and then put them on the clothes line.

 

I have six lines that are a foot and a half apart.  They run the entire length of the house perpendicularly.  They are about six feet tall and I have several poles with which to prop my lines if they become too heavy and try to drag my laundry on the ground.  If it rains, then everything goes into the shed.  

 

After I get the sheets up, it's time to start my routine all over again.  The next load comes out of the boiling pot, goes to the rinse tub, a new load goes into the boiling pot and I scrub, rinse, wring, rinse, wring, wring, and hang.  I do this until all six lines are loaded.  After the lines are loaded, I dump the pot, dump the tubs, put all of it up.  I go inside and by this time my back is screaming and my hands are bleeding.  The kids have long since gone to school.  I take off my wet shoes, my wet clothes and I sit at my table in a towel.  I eat a leftover biscuit smeared with butter.  Then I get dressed, wash the dishes in the sink and go start taking clothes off the line.

 

I start with the first ones I put up.  The sheets go back on the beds.  Three sets of sheets and pilow cases for three beds.  One for the girls, one for the boys, and one for me and him.  Then I take the next load down and start ironing the shirts.  I check each piece as I go along and patch what needs patching and sew what needs sewing as I go.  I starch and iron at least seven men's button-up shirts, fourteen little boys' shirts, twenty-one pairs of pants, fourteen dresses, a couple dozen handkerchiefs, table cloths, and napkins.  After everything is starched and ironed, folded and hung, I put it all away.  All the sheets, the pillow cases, the towels, the wash rags, the table cloths, the napkins, the underwear, the socks, the slips, the shirts, the pants, the dresses, and I do this every Thursday.  And I hate it.

 

Every Thursday I wake up with the same resolve.  I tell myself that I will not cry this Thursday.  But just about the time he walks in the tears always seem to flow.  I try hard not to cry, but I hurt and I am exhausted, and there is still so much left to do before I can lay down to start hating the time until next Thursday.  So I cry.  I cry with great gusto to be so tired.  I sob into my dish rag.  I wail and hitch and heave.  Snot runs down my face, my eyes puff up like I was stung by yellow-jackets, my face turns red and blotchy.  I do this in between cooking supper, feeding the kids, and washing the evening dishes.  Sometimes I think that if I just put my head in the tub and laid there until I was too tired to get up, then I could drown and it would all be over.  This has been going on for so long that no one ever asks why I cry anymore.  It's just a part of Thursday.  And I hate it.

 

Then another week passes and it is Thursday.  The clock goes off and it is 5:30 am.  I get up, make the coffee and I go outside to start my pot.  I come back in, but this morning he isn't still in bed.  He's already dressed and sitting in the kitchen chair.  He looks at me and just says, "Sit."  So I sit.

 

He has never raised his hand or voice to me in ten years.  But today, there is something different about him.  He says for ten years he has listened to me cry every Thursday and he is tired of it.  He says he doesn't ever want to hear me cry on wash day.  He says it's gone on long enough.  No sooner has he said this than a tear gets away from me and trickles down my face.  He bangs his fist on the table making me jump.  "I mean it!" he yells, waking the kids.  I stand there, shaking in utter disbelief.  The children slink in, peering through the doorway.  They've never heard him talk like this to me and they look confused and scared.  He bangs the table again making coffee jump up out of the cup and spatter on the table.  "Not one more tear on wash day.  Do you hear me?  NOT ONE!"  The last shout makes me jump again like a frightened rabbit.  "Wipe your face," he says and I rub the back of my hands across my face.  "Now go out front and get me my boots before I'm late for work."

 

I feel like my breath has left my body and won't come back.  But, I pull myself out of my scared fog and onto my feet and go to the front door.  I open it and I see his boots.  They are sitting on top of a brand new washing machine.  I turn and see his face.  He is crying and smiling.  Tears rolling down his face, kids behind him, still confused, and he says "We all hate Thursdays."

 

 

 

 

WHAT THE SHIT WAS THAT?!  I mean maybe I'm biased, but the bitch has talent.  What do you think?

  • Like 4
  • Love 2
Sign in to follow this  


10 Comments


Recommended Comments

Such a Good lead up to the Main thought... sometimes we do tend to get caught up in what's wrong and don't realize others do see it... and in love try to help us... I think the First shock was from the view he's not here and doesn't understand what I have to go through on wash day... I mean there is a broadness of possibilities but then the reality People do Care about our struggles...She has a great way of drawing you in and keeping you reading... I would say she has a skill she needs to pursue...!!!

  • Like 1
  • Love 1

Share this comment


Link to comment

Oh my god, what a wake up call, so much to take in from such a short story and the impact that it has. It made me feel emotional for those that live through this reality and guilty for having had the life that I've had, rarely if ever being in want or need. it's compelling reading.

  • Like 1
  • Love 2

Share this comment


Link to comment

The short story was very powerful. Congratulations to your mom

You should post your pharmacy problems on Facebook and Instagram, and write a Google review about that particular store. That will hurt them.

  • Like 3
  • Love 1

Share this comment


Link to comment

I agree with others, your mother's short piece is powerful and impressive. Kudos to her, and I hope she continues to write. 

 

On a side note, it's a shame you refer to her as a b**ch. Even if you don't mean it to be derogatory, it is.  

  • Like 3
  • Love 2

Share this comment


Link to comment
1 hour ago, MacGreg said:

I agree with others, your mother's short piece is powerful and impressive. Kudos to her, and I hope she continues to write. 

 

On a side note, it's a shame you refer to her as a b**ch. Even if you don't mean it to be derogatory, it is.  

 

 

Even if you think you understand the definition of that word as it is in the context that I use it, you don't.

 

That I refer to her as such puts her in a select group of people for whom I would kill or die.  I get that you don't like the word, but don't foist your judgment of the situation based on taking a word out of its natural context off as derogatory, especially when the people to whom I refer as "bitch" in this manner are the people I love the most and they are fully aware of that.

 

Not trying to be confrontational, but I feel like the situation called for clarification.  Obviously, because you feel this way, if I ever were extremely close friends with you I'd take this into account and never refer to you as such.  Not everyone feels that way, though.  If you do feel that way, then I would take steps to make sure I didn't make you uncomfortable.

 

Furthermore, and I apologize for this tiny essay, but here's my train of thought.

 

Love equals affection.  (not necessarily ONLY equals affection...)

 

Affection equals good-natured teasing.

 

Expressing affection requires a definition of the degree to which you express that affection.

 

Best friends usually tease each other.

 

If teasing equals affection, and expressing requires defining the degree of the expression, then one can assume that the more extreme the tease (while remaining within the bounds of trying not to hurt the other individual) means the degree of affection is higher, so long as we don't cross into personal cruelty.

 

Therefore, "you silly" means "you made me smile, good job".  Following as an example, "you are not even funny right now" means "that was funny enough that I giggled audibly".  Following again, "bitch!" could mean "You made me laugh and think and smile and have emotions I didn't even know I could at that moment, great job, I'll keep you forever, or nearly so".

 

Now, circle back to the beginning of this explanation and also point out that context is paramount.  I can never assume that a random person on the street would understand what I meant if they saved my life by pulling me back from a busy street while I was falling into traffic.  If I say "Biiiitch!" they might not get it, so I wouldn't say that.  If I said "Thank you so much, you saved my life, what could I ever do to repay you?" they'll definitely understand, BUT!

 

My friends in the same circumstance would hear "Biiiitch!" and think "He just said he loves me and is flabbergasted by the fact that I saved him, I can probably milk this for at least two free meals and maybe even him taking a bullet for me later."

 

Does that make sense?  I don't believe that a word is good or bad in and of itself.  I believe it derives power from the context in which it is used.  I think maybe you give this word the wrong kind of power based on your own context of understanding, rather than the intended context.

Edited by Razor
  • Like 3

Share this comment


Link to comment

Wow, that was an amazing story to read.  She definitely has talent.  If anyone else tells her otherwise, beat them with a frozen tuna.

  • Haha 2

Share this comment


Link to comment

It cries to me as someone who woke up at 5:00 am, and she let that slide to 5:30 am, and she kept trying, just trying to make small concessions for sleep and necessities, and then kept trying by only moving that alarm time by 30 minutes, and she didn't fuss, kept going, and when she moved it to 5:30 am her husband found concern for that, like maybe she was giving up, and he needed to do something.  This is the point I don't think people are getting, like maybe she woke up at 5:00 and then woke up at 5:30 to care for herself because that was the ultimate need because if she couldn't care for these people who else would?  It speaks of a need not being addressed, it speaks of a need hurting her, and they recognized it and moved to change it.

  • Love 3

Share this comment


Link to comment
58 minutes ago, Jdonley75 said:

Wow, that was an amazing story to read.  She definitely has talent.  If anyone else tells her otherwise, beat them with a frozen tuna.

 

They gone catch these hands, m'love.

  • Haha 2

Share this comment


Link to comment
2 hours ago, Razor said:

 

 

Even if you think you understand the definition of that word as it is in the context that I use it, you don't.

 

That I refer to her as such puts her in a select group of people for whom I would kill or die.  I get that you don't like the word, but don't foist your judgment of the situation based on taking a word out of its natural context off as derogatory, especially when the people to whom I refer as "bitch" in this manner are the people I love the most and they are fully aware of that.

 

Not trying to be confrontational, but I feel like the situation called for clarification.  Obviously, because you feel this way, if I ever were extremely close friends with you I'd take this into account and never refer to you as such.  Not everyone feels that way, though.  If you do feel that way, then I would take steps to make sure I didn't make you uncomfortable.

 

Furthermore, and I apologize for this tiny essay, but here's my train of thought.

 

Love equals affection.  (not necessarily ONLY equals affection...)

 

Affection equals good-natured teasing.

 

Expressing affection requires a definition of the degree to which you express that affection.

 

Best friends usually tease each other.

 

If teasing equals affection, and expressing requires defining the degree of the expression, then one can assume that the more extreme the tease (while remaining within the bounds of trying not to hurt the other individual) means the degree of affection is higher, so long as we don't cross into personal cruelty.

 

Therefore, "you silly" means "you made me smile, good job".  Following as an example, "you are not even funny right now" means "that was funny enough that I giggled audibly".  Following again, "bitch!" could mean "You made me laugh and think and smile and have emotions I didn't even know I could at that moment, great job, I'll keep you forever, or nearly so".

 

Now, circle back to the beginning of this explanation and also point out that context is paramount.  I can never assume that a random person on the street would understand what I meant if they saved my life by pulling me back from a busy street while I was falling into traffic.  If I say "Biiiitch!" they might not get it, so I wouldn't say that.  If I said "Thank you so much, you saved my life, what could I ever do to repay you?" they'll definitely understand, BUT!

 

My friends in the same circumstance would hear "Biiiitch!" and think "He just said he loves me and is flabbergasted by the fact that I saved him, I can probably milk this for at least two free meals and maybe even him taking a bullet for me later."

 

Does that make sense?  I don't believe that a word is good or bad in and of itself.  I believe it derives power from the context in which it is used.  I think maybe you give this word the wrong kind of power based on your own context of understanding, rather than the intended context.

I fully get what you're saying... its almost the same as certain people will say "You're stupid" which is a loving way to say you're Funny, or crazy in adoration  for people who hang, chill together a lot...😁😄🤔😊

  • Love 2

Share this comment


Link to comment

As to your experience at Walgreens, I've heard others complain of similar experiences with other big chain pharmacies in getting niche drugs. You'd probably do better by going over the local store's head and complaining directly to corporate. With pharmacies, you come out better dealing with a locally owned one where you can develop a relationship with the people and they don't just view you as a number. It's not unusual to see those folks willing to bring the drugs to you when you're in need and have no way to get there.

  • Like 1

Share this comment


Link to comment

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

Our Privacy Policy can be found here. We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue..