on chemicals

This is a YELLOW, ROUND-shaped TABLET imprinted with O-M on the front and 50 on the back.

I read these words on March 11th. I read them for the first time after I fought with the pharmacy to fill the prescription.

I’ve read them every day since but I haven’t pressed my palm to the lid before turning it to the left as I’ve done so many times a day for more days than I can remember. I have turned that betadine colored bottle around in my hand as the 120 individual TABLETS work as one wave that clicks from one end of the bottle to the other.

This persistent ache that invades every fiber of every muscle. The searing heat that ignites in my shoulders, my knees, my wrists, my hips. This is with me when my eyes push themselves open and when they eventually close. Sometimes it wakes me to remind me that it’s here. That it decides, not me.

White oval tablets are never far from my hand. These have been my weapon, my shield.

I am comfortable with them.

I am not comfortable with YELLOW or ROUND or O-M.

I have been comfortable with so many tablets, caplets, creams, needles, and chemicals my body has endured. I have been comfortable with gowns and IVs. With new doctors bad doctors incompetent staff. I have been comfortable with good doctors experienced hands and caring staff.

I am not comfortable with YELLOW or ROUND or O-M.

I have read and reviewed and talked. I have read stories about migraines and fainting and dizziness. I have turned this bottle around in my hands while I waited for the triptans that dull the piercing migraines to leave my body.

YELLOW ROUND and triptans are not friends. Triptans and YELLOW ROUND cannot be taken together.

I had an excuse.

But now I don’t.

Now the only thing that’s stopping me from pressing my palm and turning it to the left

is me.

And I’m…not scared. It feels likes I should be scared. I’m just tired. I’ve been tired for a long time. Why YELLOW ROUND is the impetus, I don’t know.

I don’t care.

It just is.

 

Something in me is giving up. Accepting my fate to be broken for the rest of my days.

Something in me is fighting. Demanding to be prioritized.

In the end, I will put YELLOW and ROUND and O-M in my body. Maybe it will be the one that works. Maybe it will be another in a long line of tablets and caplets and creams and needles that don’t work.

Maybe I’ll try it tomorrow.

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