musings . . .

So, we’ve got two cats.  There’s Tangee (we didn’t change his name when we got him), who we adopted from the Humane Society the August after we got the house.  He’s odd.  He was about twelve when we got him and he made these odd noises at the shelter, so we grabbed him up.  Because anything that makes odd noises is sure to attract us.  He was very timid at first, and he sure didn’t trust us fully for a good six months.  One time, a few months after we brought him home, he bit my nose because I was too close to him for too long.  I’ve still got a little tiny scar to prove it.  But he’s calmed down now.  And only uses his teeth to nibble affectionately.  But he weighs a ton and seems to think that anytime we’re on the couch (or doing anything for that matter) he should be a part of it.  It’s like he believes he’s a human or something. 

And he’s so timid.  We got a couple of cat harnesses to take the cats outside because they both seemed to yearn for that so badly.  So we hooked up the cats and opened the door.  The other cat, Isaac, just loved the idea of being outside.  Tangee, however, does not.  You try to take him outside and he starts to cry like you are killing him or something.  The poor cat.  Before we got him, the cat had been at the shelter twice in the same year.  The people who worked there theorized that the previous owners just kind of kicked him out.  And being in the wild without your front claws has got to suck.

Anyway, Tangee’s highly emotional and can’t stand it if you don’t give him attention.  And he loves it when Jerry plays the acoustic guitar.  He hears Jerry playing and comes over to sit near the sound and (it appears) to bask in it.  I’ve never seen another animal do this when a human is playing an instrument.  I have seen them run or howl, but not enjoy it like that. 

And Tangee’s funny about his food.  He can’t seem o defend his food against a cat half his size.  If Isaac really wants Tangee’s food, all he has to do is take it and Tangee will let him.  So I spent some time today watching Tangee eat and making sure Isaac stayed away from his food.  Tangee sure is a special needs cat.

And then there’s Isaac.  The poor little hyperthyroid guy.  If he could get any smaller, I think I’d cry.  Isaac needs to have some radioactive iodine therapy to cure his hyperthyroidism, and then maybe he can be big and strong like Tangee.  Isaac’s got this cute little high-pitched mew (and I mean “mew”, not “meow”) that’s much more “classic cat” than Tangee’s weird duck-like quacks.  But, for the most part, they get along.  And sometimes I even see them cuddled up together.  That’s when you know they’re like brothers.  They care for each other, yet at times they fight fiercely over stupid things. 

Ever since pseudoephedrine went behind the pharmacy counter, I’ve been trying to do everything I can to not buy it.  There are a couple of reasons for this, the primary one being that I don’t want to be on some list of people who take a particular drug . . .  and therefore suspected of running a meth lab.  The other reason, which is sometimes even more important than the previous one, is that pharmacies are not always open (unless you happen to live near a 24-hour pharmacy), and that makes the purchase of pseudoephedrine difficult when your head is congested at 1 AM. 

I understand that, in this less-than-perfect world, the government is trying to do something about the meth problem, and I’m willing to help.  I know many people have a problem with the “war on drugs” and this particular law regarding the retail distribution of pseudoephedrine.  I respect that, and share some of those concerns.  But I’ve got more pressing issues to deal with, like when I figure out that I’m having pretty severe sinus problems at 11 PM.  I’ve been to the nearest 24 hour pharmacy for Sudafed before when other pharmacies weren’t open.  Those pharmacists/techs treat me like a full-blown addict, even though I’m standing there sniffling while holding a tissue up to my nose to try to keep the runny nose at bay.  So I do all that I can to avoid that.

I’ve tried the phenylephrine products and I can’t even tell that I’ve taken any medication.  Then I find out that the efficacy of phenylephrine is in doubt.  No wonder it doesn’t work on me.  I’ve talked to others, and mostly they say, “It works for me.”  I walk away feeling like my body is abnormal and doesn’t respond correctly to medicine.  But now I am vindicated.  It doesn’t work for everyone.  I just happen to be one of those people.  So I am giving up on phenylephrine.  I’m done with buying a product that doesn’t work.

I gave in and bought some Mucinex D today, which is just an OTC version of a decongestant my doctor has prescribed for me successfully in the past.  I walked up to the pharmacist and asked him for it by name, and I quickly located it on the back wall visually.  The pharmacist, who I had interrupted while he was reading, began to tell me to look on the shelf, when he said “D – oh that’s back here”.  He condescendingly asked me which size box I wanted.  I asked for the larger box, hoping that I won’t need it all, but preparing for the possibility.  He brought the box to the counter and asked if I was 18.  Me.  I’m eleven years past that.  I know I look young, but I seriously don’t look that young, even if I am dressed only in jeans and a t-shirt.  At this point, I feel like he’s just trying to make me feel uncomfortable to creep me out if I am trying to get it for meth.  I shove my driver’s license at him, and he doesn’t make any more remarks.  I pay and leave. 

Most of the time when I buy my pseudoephedrine products at this particular pharmacy, I get sympathy from the employees.  This is usually because, like I was today, I’m sniffling, sneezing, have a red, irritated nose, and in general look like I need medicine. 

I happily comply when people of authority ask for information from me.  I don’t want to be suspected of anything and I have nothing to hide, so I see no point in putting up a fuss.  But the funny part here is that pharmacists (and others employed by pharmacies) are supposed to help people get well and keep them healthy.  Now that they are law-enforcement as well, they (sometimes) turn into this kind of suspicious, cranky controller-of-pseudoephedrine.  My point:  I shouldn’t feel like an outlaw for buying the only OTC medicine that will help my condition.  And if you’re going to make me go to a pharmacy to get it, you should make all pharmacies 24 hour operations.  Period.  No exceptions.  Medical conditions don’t read clocks.  They don’t care about business hours.  And I should be able to make myself feel better with legal medications whenever I need them.