Guido and I just don’t get sick very often. I suspect this is a matter of good fortune as much as lifestyle and diet. Neither one of us takes any medications, either, other than the occasional weekend gallon of tequila.
But we’re not immune. When Guido feels a cold coming on, I go out in search of Oscillococcinum, an OTC medication we need infrequently, but works very well to reduce symptoms if taken before the cold or flu takes hold.
First stop: Walgreens. I’m not good at shopping, and asking me to find something even here in my own refrigerator if I don’t know exactly where it is usually fails. I’m told this is a Male Thing. I personally am a Male Thing (yes, just checked again). Add blindness and you have, well, me.
Anyway, I don’t find it, so after 10 minutes of searching I ask at the pharmacy desk for help. Naturally, I forget the goddam name of the medication, but I tell the scrub-attired clerk it has about 15 letters and begins with Oxy (not Contin) and is a powder one administers under the tongue. She gives me exactly the look you imagine she would, relays the request to a colleague behind the desk, who turns to me and says something that I can’t hear because not only am I blind, thanks to tinnitus, I’m often deaf.
The first one comes out from behind the counter saying, I think I know what you mean, and leads me to the precise spot in the aisle I had searched through. This happens to me all the time – I look right at it, and don’t see it. But not this time. “Here’s the problem!” she says – “We’re out!” There’s an empty slot in the rack where the product usually goes. She checks inventory, and returns to say there ain’t no mo’ – “Everybody’s sick right now,” she explains, sadly.
So I head on over to Publix, go to the same section where the product wasn’t to be found at Walgreens – and I can’t find it. Replay the wait at the counter for the pharmacist, who scurries out and goddam – finds the empty slot on the rack where the product used to be. He tries to get somebody on the phone to check inventory, but can’t. Says somebody will be out soon to help me. I ask him what “soon” means: this is a pharmacy where they take an hour to pour pills from a big bottle into a little bottle when you hand in a ‘scrip. He says just a few minutes.
It’s longer than that, but as a blind deaf old Floridian I have nothing to do all day but bitch and fart anyway. Eventually a chirpy creature comes ‘round to whom I explain the dilemma. She advises that there’s no more – she’s sure of this, there’s been a run on it because “everybody has something” – and the next supply will arrive Tuesday (today), but won’t be on the shelves before Thursday. It takes 2 days to get a product on the shelf when they know it’s in high demand? Yep. Sorry.
So maybe I’m doing this wrong. Why am I flitting about in meat space talking to apathetic drones when I could see if Amazon carries this, and arrange for fast delivery?
And of course they do. It’ll be here tomorrow. All you can eat. Free delivery. And please fill out our on-line survey so we sell your personal data to the highest bidder.
Meanwhile, there’s Vitamin T. Pass the bottle. It’s 9 AM somewhere.