Thanks for your concern, but I don’t think I need for you to look at the box you’re about to hand me, cringe and then tell me how awful my medication is. See, you are filling the prescription, and I am using the medicine, so I’m totally one step ahead of you there. And then, when I say, in a fauxjovial manner, It sure does beat being sick! That’s your cue to find a segue to another topic, not an invitation for you to start calling me a “poor thing” even though I’m twice your age. And then, that Hmmmm you heard from me? Just so we’re clear here: Not me prompting you to proceed to tell me about how sorry you feel for all those poor patients (here I am certain she clucked her tongue) who have to take so many medicines. Now granted I am down drastically from the sixteen pills per day and four-hour-long IV infusions every month I was dealing with last year, but still. Just get my damn medicine and shut the hell up. Ahem. Please.
But if I thought my pharmacy pickup exchange was painful, at least I wasn’t the woman next to me. The quite old, quite frail woman holding a mask over her face in hopes of not catching something from all the sick folk in line. (Funny though, because when she walked up to the window the first thing she did was put both her hands on the hands of the pharmacy worker and I was all, All that hard work of wearing and holding the mask, BAM! totally wasted. I sorta wanted to sidle up to her with some hand sanitizer, but I was busy trying to make my pharmacy lady have a little less pity for me.)
The woman, the older frail one, she got up to her pharmacy lady, and her pharmacy lady was all, Hi! How’s your husband? And then the woman got to explain that he’d died recently. And, look, I know it’s uncomfortable to be in the position the pharmacy lady was in, but it wasn’t ten seconds before I heard her say to the woman, Well, but, he *was* suffering.
I’ve probably said that to someone myself before, and if I did, I am so sorry for it. What is with this weird compulsion people have to try and make the bereaved feel better? The woman lost her husband. And no she doesn’t want him suffering, but she does want him back, whole and well and sitting across the breakfast table from her, and you’re going to put her in the position where she has to imply that it’s such a great thing that he’s dead? What a complete and total bummer that is.
Anyway. To sum up: My pharmacy lady — Cut the medicine chitchat, you healthy betch. Other pharmacy lady — How about a simple, I’m so sorry, you must miss him terribly. He was such a kind man and we always enjoyed seeing him here.
There now. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?