Positive COVID test? Check. Apartment all to yourself? Check. A really strong drug prescription? Check!
Let the pharmaceutical phun tymes begin…
“Well, I can write you a prescription for something stronger, say with Codeine in it, or I can give you something tamer, like–“
“Doc, I’ll take the Codeine–I ain’t got no responsibilities and nowhere to be for the next few days, so sign me up for the fun stuff, please!”
As alluded to previously, back in June I had caught myself a case of the cooties–aka COVID–and was just embarking on my COVID-vacation. Despite my very half-hearted “protests,” I had taken the Boss Lady’s advice and was going to quarantine at a nearby AirBnB apartment–all in the name of protecting the rest of my negative-testing family members.
Oh, and also in the name of getting in some uninterrupted blogging–my real goal–and then spending the rest of my time in recovery by reading overdue library books. A simple plan for a simple man, what can I say?
‘Twas Thursday of that fateful week–aka Day Two of Symptoms, and Day One of COVID-cation–and I had kicked things off by checking into my pad, and was in the middle of my Dr.’s appointment when the idea of enhancing my time with a little Codeine first entered the scene.
“Consider it done! Now, just tell me which pharmacy to send it to.”
Dang, the Doc seemed almost too happy to enable my explicit plans of borderline opium abuse…
“This is your local CVS Pharmacy calling. Your prescription ‘CO’ is not covered by your insurance. For more information, please stay on the line to speak to a pharmacist…”
Dangit, Automated CVS Phone Voice, I was just getting settled in and thinking about what to do for my dinner! Now, I have to figure out what in the hell this cryptic message is about…is this about my COVID drug (which I was seriously considering foregoing), or my precious Codeine? Better not be about the Codeine…
*Five minutes of listening to annoying on-hold Muzak later…*
“Oh, high there–er, I mean ‘hi’ there! Yes, it seems that it’s not actually an insurance issue, we just don’t have any of the Codeine-Gwaffle-In-Scene in stock.”
“Mmmkay, well this is super-important that I get some. Could you check to see if you have any Codeine-Gobbling-Incense in an of your nearby pharmacies?”
“Sure…hmmm, shows here that there we don’t have no Codeine-Good-God-I’m-Effin-Insane within a 25-mile radius. Would you like me to check within a 50-mile radius?”
“What? No! Jeez, you realize I have COVID, right? I’m supposed to be relaxing right now, and in fact, I’m starting to get some pretty bad chills. You think I want to be apart of some hour-long Easter-Egg hunt bullshit right now?”
“Oh, well I suppose not…”
“And honestly, I have no idea what you’ve been calling it, ‘Codeine-what?’ I need to know the name if I’m going to have to call up other pharmacies on my own.”
“Codeine-Guilty-As-Sin.”
“Um, could you maybe spell that please?”
In retrospect, I have no idea what my strategy here was, seeing as this whole conversation had been taking place whilst I sat upon my porcelain throne…you know, on account of gastrointestinal issues and what-not.
“Sure. C-O-D–“
“Yeah, yeah, I got the ‘Codeine’ part down–spell the other thing.”
“Okay: SOREFFHBENTBGRNAEFBVOGBIJO.”
*explitive/sigh*
“Sure, okay, I got it,” I said, unable to refrain from letting a copious amount of sarcasm bleed through. “Okay, see you!”
After hanging up, I couldn’t help let out a few more curse words.
“Welp, I’m sure the Google will know what he was going on about…”
“How do you not know what I’m talking about?!?” I basically screamed into the phone at the Walgreen’s pharmacist.
And can you blame me? At this point it was pushing 5:45 in the evening, and sadly there was no codeine on my horizon. Even worse, almost every pharmacy in town that wasn’t a CVS was about to close around 6.
“Um, can you say that again?”
“Codeine–CODEINE! I have a prescription for cough syrup with codeine in it. This ain’t no Over-The-Counter strength that my Doc prescribed me. No, she gave me permission to score some Knock-You-On-Your-Ass-Give-You-LSD-Quality-Dreams-Don’t-Wake-Up-Until-Your-Quarantine-Is-Over strength codeine. How many cough syrups can there be like that?!?”
“Well, we have plenty of cough syrups, sir, if you like–“
“NO. Give me the good stuff. I don’t want any half-assed OTC ‘drugs’ of yours–I’m here to par-tay...”
“…with some of the hottest, most overdue library books in town,” I completed my own statement under my breath.
“What was that, sir?”
“NOTHING. I’m just looking it up on the Google now. Jeez, you call yourself a pharmacist?’
…
“You there, sir?”
“Okay, I think I found it: do you have any Codeine-G-U-A-I-F-E-N-E-S-I-N.”
“Oh! You mean. Codeine-Queafing-Raisin? Yeah, yeah, real good stuff…”
“So you have it?!?”
“Oh, no, we don’t got any of that in stock. Maybe you could try…uh…Walmart?”
“You got to be f***ing kidding me.”
I looked down to see my hands slightly trembling, with what I at first thought was rage, but soon realized that…wait, is it possible–no, it couldn’t be…
Somehow had I managed to be the world’s first person to have a physiological reaction to not having an addictive drug in my system.
OMG…
I was suffering from premature withdrawal.
Hold on, I’m getting a phone call…
*Hey, what’s crackin’? Uh-huh…what’s that?…oh. Ok. I see…yeah…ok. What about ‘preemptive’? Can I use that?…No? Oh well. Thanks for the heads-up.*
Sorry about that…um, it seems that particular medical term is already taken, and if I continue using it, I might just get sued by the good folks over at Coitus Interruptus, Inc...
Honestly, though, I don’t care what we call the malady that was overtaking my system (other than, ya know, COVID)…I just needed to get my drugs on and get on with my evening.
But, seriously, Walmart? I’m basically pinning all of my semi-psychedelic sedative hopes on Sam Walton, that old fart?
Welp, folks, if that’s not drama for you, I don’t know what is! You better tune in next time to find out whether ol’ Sammy-Poo came through for ya boy here, or if I got stuck trying to weather my COVID-cation sober af.
I can’t imagine things getting any worse for my poor, sick soul. I really can’t.
I mean, for crying out loud, this white guy has found himself in the uncomfortable position of randomly calling strangers and begging them for something that kinda sounds like a really poor choice of a name for an Indigenous American child: “Excuse me, my good man, do you happen to have any…uh…Queafing-Raisin“…
Content created on: 9 September 2022 (Friday)
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