Gut Rumbles

September 26, 2007

I'll stick m'dick if I have to, but I will not quit the cancer sticks

Originally published July 9, 2002

I won't get my new fix-a-flat elixer until tomorrow. The pharmacy didn't have it in stock and had to order it from some certified root-doctor (that's supposed to be a PUN) at Corporate Headquarters, or some such crap, and it wasn't ready today.

I forgot to tell the story of what happened when I dropped that prescription off at the local CVS yesterday. I handed the prescription, along with my bazillion-refill bottle of Viagra, to a young lady behind the counter and told her to fill them both and that I would come back after work the next day to pick them up. She looked at the terrible doctor's scrawl on the script and asked me if I knew what it was. I told her that I had no idea because I had never tried it before. She called another young lady over and together they tried to decipher what the doctor had written.

"Mr. Smith, I can't read what the doctor wrote. Do you know what this is for?" the second one asked.

"Yes," I replied, smiling as politely as I could. "I'm supposed to put that stuff in a hypodermic needle and inject it into my penis. It's supposed to give me an erection. Do YOU know what that is?" I thought about what I had said for a moment while both women looked at me with a somewhat stunned expression. "I don't mean 'do you know what an erection is.' I figure both of you know what THAT is," I explained. "I meant do you know what is the stuff that goes in the needle? That's what the prescription is for."

The second woman recovered quickly. "Oh! You probably want some whatevershesaid." She went to the computer, punched some keys, and informed me that they didn't carry whatevershesaid at that particular CVS outlet, but they would order some for me ASAP. There was one other problem with the prescription. The elixer comes in 10, 15 and 20 something-or-anothers and the doctor seemed to have written "5" on the script.

"He meant the strongest one you've got," I explained helpfully. "Call him and ask. Tell him I told you that. Straight up, no mixers. And don't forget about the Viagra, either." I left the store.

I don't know if I was a topic of conversation after that, nor do I care. When I say I left shame and embarrassment in my rear-view mirror a long time ago, I'm not kidding. Those women work in a pharmacy and they're supposed to be trained professionals. Other people have the same problem I do after prostate surgery. That's why some root doctor invented that drug in the first place. I am authorized to receive some, and I want it. And I want more Viagra, too. Maybe both together will give me something even better than what I once had, except for the goddam shot.

But I am NOT going to quit smoking.

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