My dear friend is now getting better at home, which is fantastic news for everyone but Jelly. Our poor single child is back to sharing her home with two boring humans. Thank goodness for the meet up with her park friends this morning.
On to less important matters. J. tried to dissuade me from writing yet another post about my pills. You’ve been there, done that, she said. Oh well, it’s my blog and I can repeat myself if I want.
My pill regimen has remained largely unchanged for the last 6 months now, except for a reduction in one pill to alternate days. I still have my granny pill case, which works well if I remember to take the pills in it.
Once every two weeks, I sort my pills into two morning and two later-day cases. First, I put my stash of pill bottles and cases on the counter. And then I count and sort and toss until my little cases are overflowing and I need a nap.
In my efforts to keep my pills organized, I’ve become obsessive. I need 7 pills in my morning case, and 4 or 5 spread across three later-day doses, depending on the day. But there’s one problem: pill designers are grossly lacking in creativity. I have 7 white pills daily, two of which are almost identical sizes, as well as two pale yellow, and one pale green. I can barely tell the pastels apart some days. My two capsules are more vibrant colours but they are a variation on a rusty theme and I confuse them too. Forget about sorting my cornucopia by colour.
Rather, I sort my pills in order of importance. Since my sorting is for naught if I die from cancer, I start with my chemo, three little round white pills in the morning and one after dinner. I consider these pills my highest priority. I want to live.
Then I move to my diuretics, one potassium-sparing and one potassium depleting. If I don’t keep my potassium in check, I could have a heart attack, assuming my pill arranging doesn’t kill me first. I need these two pills to pee. It’s pure coincidence that they are both yellow.
Then I throw in my thyroid pill. Thankfully I’m at the light green dose of late instead of light yellow or light grey. If I don’t take this pill, J. will start to wonder whether I’ve turned into Dr. Jekyll and check off the TSH box on my lab requisition when I’m not looking. She will also tell the doctor I’ve been “difficult” of late. She’s probably right.
Finally, I throw in a Lactaid pill because someone who is obviously not lactose intolerant determined that lactose would be a great filler for medication. Thanks for that, buddy. The negligible amount of lactose isn’t so negligible when it’s added to several pills.
That’s just the morning. I’ll spare you the later-day sorting or you’ll need a nap.
I fear you’re thinking that I should graduate to those daily dosing bubbles the pharmacies make up for old, forgetful folks. I’m still trying to overcome the trauma of my granny pill case, so let’s not go there. You don’t want to see my difficult side, do you?