So here I am in my
late forties and only now have been introduced to the world of medication! I’m a late bloomer, I guess, but thanks to
colleagues and friends I’m assured that meds can do the trick in coping with
life’s slings and arrows. How cool is
that? Back in the day I had to wrestle
with my demons, confront my pangs of conscience, the sting of regret, the disappointment
of failure, and other forms of mental torture.
Not anymore, my friends. I just take
pills. Am I fighting sleep at
night? I just pop a couple Tylenol PMs
into my mouth and await pharmaceutical magic.
Do I have a hangnail or did I stub my toe? Ouch, right?
No! I cram ibuprofen or other
anti-inflammatory drugs at hand into my mouth and down them with some
Jack. I’ve gotten to the point that I
eat them like candy (even keeping the pills in a yellow M&M bag just to
make it feel like a treat)! When
consciousness rears its ugly ahead again, no worries. I got some prescription drugs for that
menace. The doctor doesn’t waste time
asking questions about what might be the source of my mental anguish, he just
keeps them pills coming. It’s more about
experimentation as to what works best, and with the least side effects, rather
than consideration of any life situation that could have caused my desperate
need for medication in the first place. That works for me. At the first sign of pain or even mild discomfort, I’m tossing those
bad boys down the pie hole.
