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.