White, yellow, blue, pink
One, one and a half, two, daily, alternate days
Morning, noon, night, before or after meals
With food, without food
Round, oblong, capsule
You know what I’m talking about. Pills, medications, our daily fix-its.
They all have names we can’t pronounce, spell, or remember, unless we take a memory drug, like jellyfish juice or fish oil. So, imagine my dismay when my full-size golden retriever, whom I call Wag, for obvious reasons, knocked all the pills and (open) bottles to the floor and they scattered. The bottles are difficult to uncap, and we have thirty, fifteen for me, fifteen for my husband—the dead center average number of pills we seniors take. They all tumbled out of their cases, rolling here and there, under the refrigerator, under the stove, into my pantry. I stepped on three, crushing them beyond recognition.
It looked like a rainbow of colors, sizes, and shapes where Wag, who viewed them as dog candy, began to slobber on them, lick them up, and spit them out. Then he put on a barf show that I had to clean up. I don’t think he ingested much, if any, luckily, but if he did, they passed through him, as he is still alive and kicking—and searching for more dog candy.
All these pills can be very confusing because the packaging says, you can’t take Pill A because it conflicts with Pill B that you have taken for years, but wait, if you take either 2 A’s or a different pill, Pill C, you’ll be fine, but if you have symptoms, skip Pill C and take Pill D. Or, cut Pill C in half and take half in the morning and half in the evening, but not after 6 p.m. (Pill C is a small oblong pill, how in the heck do you cut it in half, anyway). Then the doc says, If the symptoms continue, take a second Pill E and call me, but I’ll be on vacation for the next six weeks.
You can spy Wag and me back at the pharmacy restocking on dog candy…
#wrinklybits1 @bitswrinkly
