Friday, May 19, 2017

Ch 1 We finally eat supper but it’s way too late to stop my migraine

Did I mention that? That I am getting a migraine because I haven’t eaten?

I think I did.

It’s my own stupid fault for not having brought Emergency Food. I should never have assumed that being a guest in someone’s home meant that that someone would provide meals.

By 7:30, when we finally have supper, my stomach is full of Bad Cheese, but I still have a headache. I finally give up and excuse myself for a moment, but when I get into the bedroom, which is where my purse and my Imitrex are, I realize that I don’t have my Swiss army knife with me because I have been on a plane and I for once remembered to remove the knife from my purse before leaving the house so I wouldn’t 

1.      Lose the knife or
2.      Have to run back to guest services and prepare an envelope for the nice volunteer to mail to me on her way home (after buying something – anything but coffee or liquid – at the Starbuck’s outside of security so I can break a $20 bill and give the volunteer the money for the postage)

My doctor writes the prescription for the largest Imitrex possible – 100 mg – and then I cut it into smaller pieces to take it. I get only nine tablets a month, regardless of size.

I take the pillbox into the kitchen, where I find a paring knife. I try to cut a quarter of the pill off the end, but the paring knife is so dull that it smashes the $20 tablet instead of slicing it. I watch most of $20 worth of prescription drug turn into dust and scatter on the counter with the cat hair and coffee grounds.

No matter. It’s still the drug. I pick out the cat hair and the grounds and sweep the dust into my mouth. My people do not waste.

I return to the table, the pillbox in my pocket, and try to pretend to be interested in the conversation. I poke at the food on my plate while Sly and Doris talk to Primo, ignoring me. The conversation continues along the same lines as before: All the stupid people, including Stephanie, who are ruining life for Sly.

I force myself to take a few bites. Who knows when the next meal might come? I also make a mental note to escape the next day to a grocery store – there is some advantage to having the rental car – so I can buy some snacks to hide in my suitcase. I should have slipped some cheese and crackers into a napkin and stuffed them into my purse.


2 comments:

  1. My wife has a switch that flicks when she's hungry; it's "loving, calm(ish) person" to "screaming harpy". And she knows this. Yet she hardly ever has emergency bars in her purse.

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  2. My suggestion is to cut the pills up, at home, as soon as you get a new prescription. Then put them back in the pill box. One thing I know about unknown kitchens is that you can never ever count on there being a sharp knife!

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