The Medicine Man

When we were in our 20s, my wife and I used to have a Halloween Party every year. We’d dress up in costumes. One year I went as Robinhood, another year I dressed up as an old-time western bartender. We’d invite friends over and have plenty of food and drink. Our one-bedroom apartment was tiny, but we still managed to jam everyone into the living room and kitchen. 

I’d take my time and ease into celebrating and having fun with our friends, but I still ended up drinking too much and would need to hit the medicine cabinet in our bathroom the next day looking for help with my hangover. I remember tottering into the bathroom, looking into the cabinet, shaking my head at my stupidity, probably even swearing off alcohol, from then until oblivion, and sucking down two Tylenol and a bucket full of water. 

Oh, my aching head just thinking about it. 

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Back in the prehistoric days

Back in the day, there wasn’t much in the medicine cabinet. My shaving cream and razor, the Tylenol bottle and that’s about it. Oh, times sure have changed. We have body creams, soaps, smelly perfumes and colognes galore in the cabinet, but that’s not why I’m writing. Now we have so many different prescription, over the counter medicine bottles, and vitamin bottles, they’re overflowing in the cabinet, forcing me to store them on my desk in the bedroom and even in a downstairs cabinet in our kitchen. 

The bottles are nothing extraordinary, all the usual suspects, medicines and vitamins to help with seasonal allergies, coughs and flus, upset stomach, cholesterol, various aches and pains, and other annoying ailments. What amazes me is the number. 

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Doc’s miracle cure-all

We’re generally healthy, but we’ve still accumulated our share of medicines. I wonder what has happened, but I know the cause. It’s really rather simple. We’ve gotten older. We’ve joined the “we can fix it” generation. 

Now I’ve fought the urge to have a daily pill box or counter where I lay out my pills and put them into a little container. My wife has jumped in head-first, but I’ve held my ground, at least for now. 

I watch her every Sunday, set up her little pill box. Of course, she’s much better at taking care of herself than I am. If I question my memory and if I’ve taken a pill or not, I tend to error on the safe side. She never seems to have that problem. Yeah, I guess she’s got me there. 

I still must laugh. We have all these medicines and life-extenders, but don’t you know it, when I go looking for Tylenol or Advil or even an aspirin to help with a simple headache, I can never find a full bottle. We’ve run out!