Take twenty pills and call me in the morning

PillsI distinctly remember the first time my parents had to take pills for whatever was ailing them.

My dad, he who bequeathed to me the scourge that has affected my life for the past month and a half, was the first. And his was because of kidney stones. He was prescribed a drug called Allopurinol, which prevents uric acid stones from forming and also prevents gout.

I remember him taking a cutting board and a knife and cutting each of the pills in half– because his doctor had prescribed him to do so. Once a month after supper, he would perform this ritual. The “Thunk! Thunk! Thunk” of the blade as it passed through each tablet still resonates in my mind.

From that point on, the pills increased. There were some for high blood pressure, others for various aches and pains, and even more once his Diabetes was diagnosed. But through it all, the half-a-pill remained a constant.

When I was diagnosed with the same ailment, I figured I, too, would have to take that half-a-pill a day. It seemed easy enough, and considering I already take at least 3-4 pills a day to live a normal life, it didn’t seem to be that big of a deal.

Boy, was I wrong.

Apparently, since my dad’s initial diagnosis, doctors have found that potassium citrate not only prevents uric acid stones from occurring, it also dissolves stones that have formed. So this new medication is now prescribed for any and all patients suffering from this malady.

Problem is, potassium citrate is not taken lightly. It’s a big ol’ horse pill (as we used to call them). And an afflicted patient does not take just one a day– he or she takes THREE a day. Morning, noon and night.

So my 3-4 pills a day have now doubled to at least SIX a day.

My medicine cabinet is starting to look like a Walgreen’s pharmacy.