I always have writing on the brain. I’m forever coming up with cleverly worded stories and profound thoughts to share. Unfortunately, most of them come to me while I’m driving and by the time I reach my destination, they’re gone. Such is the case today. I’m positive I came up with something great.
Given that the profound and meaningful thoughts have vacated my head, I’ve decided (in the spirit of forcing myself to keep the blog up and running) to share a less than thrilling shopping experience that might sound familiar to my fellow alcoholics. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t forget to complain about my life.
I’d also like to mention that I realized my blog acronym is YSWAT. It’s pronounced Y-SWAT. That was my executive decision.
Costco and Zombies
I went to Costco today. Normally, that’s not a blog-worthy event, but today was special. I’ve made no secret of the fact that Costco is my chosen safe-haven in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Last night was “The Walking Dead” season four finale. I had zombies on the brain. I still have zombies on the brain.
My mom and sister recently suggested that Disneyland would be their chosen post apocalyptic safe-haven. They make a good case. (You can read about it in detail on my other blog) I was almost on their side. But going to Costco and having zombies on the brain meant I was paying special attention to detail. I am reaffirming my stance. Costco is a self-contained fortress and today, I noticed skylights everywhere. Thus providing a solution to my greatest concern, lack of natural light.
Costco, for the win.
Though I’ve never filled a prescription there, I remembered, or rather was reminded by the enormous PHARMACY sign, that my son was out of medication and I had a script in my purse. That’s convenience if ever it existed. I dropped it off and we began our shopping.
Normally, my kids hate shopping of all kinds, but there’s just something magical about a larger than life warehouse store. They love it there. They love it even more on sample day, which it just so happened to be. That’s mom-speak for “my kids are getting free snacks and their shopping tolerance has increased tenfold.”
We were somewhere in between free granola bars and yogurt when my phone rang. It was the pharmacy informing me that they were unable to fill my prescription. In case you weren’t aware, schedule II controlled substances are not refillable. A paper script must be presented at each and every fill. As is common practice in the industry, the prescribing physician had written us two scripts to save us a trip. When this is done, the words “Do not fill until” followed by the next month are scrolled across the bottom.
Here’s a fun word problem, in case you feel like doing some math:
Amy had two pills left. She filled a thirty-day script on March 1st. Amy’s son knocked a bottle over and stepped on three pills. Her written script said “DO NOT FILL UNTIL APRIL” across the bottom. How many pills remained and how many was Amy able to get on March 31st?
No matter how many times I said, “Not a big deal, I’ll just get it filled in the morning,” they insisted on calling my son’s doctor and working it all out. We agreed that I’d do my shopping and when I was done I’d stop by the pharmacy and either pick up the prescription or take the script back.
It was a huge headache and I actually had a huge headache. I appreciated the effort, but despite my request being completely valid, something about being a known substance abuser, standing at a pharmacy counter saying “I swear, he stepped on them,” feels really, really scary.
FYI- if you have a problem with me medicating my child, you’re reading the wrong blog. When you have a few free days, come on over to my house and spend some quality unmedicated time with him. When you’re done we’ll have a discussion about how lazy I am and how I’m using medication as a substitute for parenting.
Maybe while we’re at it you can critique my financial management and lack of college degree. No, really. It’ll be fun. I can never get enough of feeling like a totally worthless waste of a human being. No matter how much I berate myself, I just can’t quite reach the level of effectiveness as hearing it from another person.
I know I’ve wandered somewhat off topic. Honestly, I had a rough weekend. You’d think having months of success and sobriety under my belt would feel fabulous. I’m sure it does for some people. I’m still struggling with feeling like something has been taken from me or that I’m being left out. The whole world is having a great time and I’m not invited. I mourn the loss of lifestyle far more than the alcohol itself. (But trust me, I miss the alcohol itself a whole lot too)
It sounds so ridiculous and easy spelled out in front of me. I’ve been willing to destroy my life over a beverage. Trust me, I don’t need you to call me a loser. I’ve already figured it out.
Back to more important matters. We shopped. I bought overpriced stuff in quantities we’ll never be able to consume. (Remember how I bought 30lbs of sugar at the end of November? I ran out. Is that bad?) My kids ate their weight in free samples and talked me into buying some extravagant chocolate-covered pomegranate seeds. Costco shopping rule: Never leave without something you don’t want or need.
Surprisingly, my friends at the pharmacy had managed to reach the doctor and had filled the prescription. It was mine to take. After I signed two forms. And they scanned my driver license. And made a copy of my military ID.
I’m fairly certain the tech thought I was insane. I couldn’t help laughing a little. It took some restraint to refrain from saying, “Look lady, if I was going to ruin my life, I’d be back in your monstrous liquor departments, doing it legally.” I have conflicting feelings about controlled substances. That’s a topic we’ll have to shelve for another day.
The best part of the trip was when my kids asked me how much the snack bar food cost when I was a kid and I realized it was exactly the same. Costco has not raised their prices in thirty years.
And… wait for it… the weird pomegranate stuff is good. Like, really good. Remind me to tell you my funny ER story. I was going to post it now, but I’m tired and emotionally exhausted from hating my book.
Not a lie.