the danish outpost
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contraband and guilty pleasures

03.12.2001

feeling kinda how a girl feels

i swear, i feel like such a druggie.

i went to see my therapist the other day to get a new prescription for antidepressants. since it's been a while since i've taken them, she wants me to start with a 10 mg dose, then move up to a 20 mg dose. so, the scrip should be for 20 mg pills. cut them in half, get the right dose. no problem, right?

problem.

i ran a bunch of errands after work, intending to pick up the scrip and one other on the last stop before meeting up with a friend for coffee. i get to the pharmacy, and all they have is a scrip for 40 mg pills.

in hindsight, i think the intake people must have called in my old scrip, and the new one didn't make it over there. ah, the beauty of miscommunication.

so i explain the predicament to the pharmacist, and point out that if you go thru my old records, you can see that this is the path we took before - start with a low dose, work up to the bigger one. could he do anything to help, like give me the lower dosage?

how problematic a request could that be, i think? i mean, someone asking for *less* drugs? no problemo! big problemo. he called in another pharmacist and the rest of the conversation went something like this:

me: i need to be on 10 mg, so i have to get the 20 mg pills. then i take half a pill, and life is good.
she: right. so we give you 40 mg, and you take half a pill.
me: no, see, that doesn't work. i need 10 mg.
she: but we only have 40 mg.
me: and you have 20 mg, right?
she: right.
me: that's what i need, is the 20 mg.
she: so you cut the pill in half. i give you 40 mg.
me: nonono, see, i only need 10 mg.
she: so you're all set.
me: aaaauuuuugh!

we went around and around like that for a while, then the first pharmacist came back, and he and i went around for a while longer, until i finally grabbed his hand and said I NEED THE DRUGS NOW. i think he got the point.

he and the other pharmacist had a little confab out back, and he came back a few minutes later with a single 20 mg pill in a vial. 'here, to tide you over.' 'how much?' 'no charge.'

i thanked my druggist friend profusely for his help, and trotted out of there with my unmarked vial, feeling slightly illicit.

i meant to do a bunch of chores when i finally got home. instead, i gravitated to the couch, made myself warm and comfy, and couldn't bring myself to get up again.

i was a bit miffed to have planned badly and missed my two Monday shows. how is it that this has happened? i've gotten hooked on TV again. i have Shows. i get involved in the plots. i read Mighty Big TV to find out what i've missed. and i have a crush on the Sprint guy.

you know him - the one in the black trench coat, with a sense of purpose and (you might guess) a dry, snappy sense of humor. he'd be fun to hang out with, have a beer or two. Brian Baker. 34, used to be with Second City, lives in LA, recently profiled in People's Sexiest Men of the Year issue (in case you're wondering where i got those details).

that's right - i have a secret crush on a guy i've only seen for 30 seconds or less on TV. *shakes head* see what TV does to your brain? turns it to mush.

my other (more reasonable, as these things go) TV crush is Jamie Oliver, The Naked Chef. he's adorable, *and* he cooks, *and* that accent! oo lala! ;) i like listening to him talk about food, and his Briticisms are endearing. and, rather pragmatically, he teaches you recipes that real people could actually make in not too much time.

so there you go - my life in a nutshell. unmarked vials and TV boyfriends.

yesterday :: tomorrow

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