Mommy’s medicine cabinet has all sorts of things.
This particular mommy (mine) does not (currently) have “a problem”, other than very carefully controlling her intake, hoarding bought-and-paid-for refills of very UNdreamy meds (generic flonase anyone?), and (frustratingly) declining almost all of the good drugs when doctors offer them to her (and/or NOT getting those refilled).
Do you think she will notice if one of these teensy tiny little halves of stupidly low dose Xanax are gone when she gets home?
What if TWO go missing? Or … three?
Would she be less likely to miss a couple of whole ones from the untampered-with prescription bottle?
I am not here for these, but … they ARE here.
Can’t I at least ponder the possibilities? Assess the small cache longingly?
It doesn’t hurt just to look. And take pictures.
And fantasize.
About being the kind of invalid for whom access to such things does not have to be agonized over. Being the kind of invalid for whom the choice is immediately made. Without doubts. Without hesitation.
Taking enough so that any possibility of guilt or shame is immediately medicated into sleepy oblivion.
I wish I were the kind of invalid who had her own scripts. Tidy little pillboxes I could always count on without question.
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