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January 20, 2007
Cialis and Wine
As you know, I have a couple of tumors on my pituitary gland that sort of screwed up my hormones. One of the side affects was that my libido went to hell. Another was that during those times I was trying to overcome the gone-to-hellness of my libido, the tools didn't work in a manner that suggested a problem with hydraulics.
With an honest-to-God hydraulic problem, thinking about the hydraulic problem doesn't typically make it worse. For example, I was watching a show on the moving of the Cape Hatteras lighthouse -- a project that involved the use of hydraulic jacking equipment, and I'm convinced that having one of the workers simply think, "Whoa, is it starting to droop?," would not have been enough to cause the light house to fall back to its original position.
With the human body, that simple thought is enough to cause any lighthouse-resembling body parts to lose their lighthouse resemblance and become more cooked pasta like (still more Sagne Incannulate than Angel Hair, and Manicotti'd for her pleasure, but noodly nonetheless). And that's the position I found myself in more than once.
Additionally, when moving a lighthouse, the fear that the jacks might fail when lifting the lighthouse is not enough to keep them from actually lifting the lighthouse.
With the human body, fear that the tools might not work is enough to keep them from working. I found myself there too.
And it's the fear we're going to discuss here.
For, even though I had the fear of failure, I was also confident that one day I'd be able to test that fear. And I wanted to be prepared! Up front! I didn't want to find myself years later having to ask for more troops to bail me out of a problem I'd caused as I worried about how I'd be perceived historically. I'm smarter than that. I can say "nuclear."
So, I called my doctor and asked for a Cialis prescription. I was going to be able to pick it up with my Cabergoline.
The grocery store/pharmacy where I get my drugs has a rope we're not supposed to step around until it's our turn to get our drugs. This keeps the busybodies in line behind us from hearing what we're picking up.
When I was next in line the twenty-something female clerk made eye contact, signaled me forward, and asked my name and date of birth. Armed with this information she retrieved my two prescriptions -- one, my Cabergoline, was already bottled and the other was written on a piece of paper. The bit of the writing on the paper I recognized seem to suggest the script was for 27 pills and the total was going to be very close to $300.00. This, in itself, left me with a cooked pasta feeling.
In a split second several things went through my mind: This has got to be wrong! I don't need 27 pills! Just a couple until I feel good about myself! Three hundred dollars!
I'm pretty sure I had a deer-in-the-headlights expression on my face that the clerk mistook for embarrassment because she started speaking in code to me. "This prescription," she said pointing to the Cialis prescription, "Is good for 27 pills."
Why are you speaking in code? Shit. Three hundred dollars.
"You don't have to get them all today, it's good for a year and you can get as many as you think you want now. When you come back, just let us know you want to refill this prescription," and she pointed again.
Why is she speaking in code? And then it hit me. She thought I was embarrassed. I was concerned about dropping almost $300 and she mistook my rats, three hundred dollars face for embarrassment and was trying to to protect my privacy ... which was the last thing I was worried about. Hell, I'd have been more than happy to have every single woman in the store know that with 30 minutes notice and just a little bit of coaxing I was going to be hard as a rock ... and, you know, just in case she got stuck behind someone in the Express Lane that had too many items and it was going to take her longer to get home than she thought, I was going to be good for three days (and experience suggests just a little bit longer than that).
I asked the clerk to quote me five pills.
I'm thinking if I decide to go in for a refill I'll have a bottle of wine with me when I get in line. Just to further demonstrate my level of preparedness.
[I'm pretty sure that fear of failure never really led to any actual failure -- it certainly didn't help, but my hormones were such that the lighthouse wasn't going anywhere anyway.]
Posted by delmer at January 20, 2007 11:00 PM
Comments
How is Cialis going to help move the Cape Hatteras lighthouse?
Oh, wait a second... is this a metaphor? Is the lighthouse supposed to be man's injustice towards man or something?
Sorry, I was never much good with symbolism.
Posted by: Dave2 at January 21, 2007 2:47 AM
I can't help wondering if the iBalls led you to thinking about this post, something along the line of iLighthouses? (I really wanted to type seomthing else there but I am being good - no really, I am!)
Posted by: Pen at January 21, 2007 2:43 PM
Guys, I wish I could think of something witty to say, but I'm beat. And I wish I could say I was beat due to a Cialis-enhanced weekend. Alas, I was not that lucky ... I wasn't engaged in anything this weekend that would provide 20-minute periods of rest ... it was go, go, go.
(Well, maybe there was that bit of time spent reading and keeping the van warm.)
Posted by: delmer at January 21, 2007 9:06 PM