Once upon a time, I used to take pride in the fact that I didn’t need to take any kind of pill for any kind of health problem. Back in my younger days, sure, I took a pill sometimes, but not one I really needed—if you get my drift.
Over the past few months since I’ve made a commitment to seeing doctors on a regular basis again, my no pill days are over. Now a shelf in my bathroom looks like a small pharmacy.
There’s that water pill in the morning for blood pressure, then another damn pill for the blood pressure too. I take that second pill in the evening also.
Being a diabetic, for years I was on insulin. No more. Now I’m taking some kind of diabetic pills—one in the morning before I eat and one at night before dinner.
In the evening after I eat, I take a cholesterol pill. I’ve never struggled with cholesterol in my life. What the hell suddenly is this about?
Sometimes I struggle opening those damn pill bottles. I can feel my blood pressure rise trying to open the bottle to take the pill for that blood pressure. It’s maddening.
Back before starting this cataract surgery stuff, it was hard, no make that impossible, to read the labels on the pill bottles. Despite being legally blind, at least my mind wasn’t legally dead. I had a number of Sharpie Markers and I color-coded the caps on the pill bottles. Red was for blood pressure (seemed like the right color choice), blue for cholesterol—I think you get the idea.
I’m a person of routine and I have worked my “pill popping” into it. I hate having to take all those pills but if they allow me to keep on doing what I’m doing, I’m not going to complain about it. Oh, wait a minute. I’ve probably just done that here.
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