It’s that frustrating, dreaded day again.
When I realize it’s coming, I procrastinate. I postpone the frustration of the chore as long as possible, dreaming about how to live without them. Can’t I wish mind over body? The pressure becomes too intense. Breathing is cumbersome, the headache interferes with work. I squint, looking like Lee Van Cleef dueling against Clint Eastwood in an old spaghetti western. If you don’t know what those movies are, you’ve got some American cinema history to catch up on.
When I look like Lee, what can I do but cave and deal with the task?
For the longest time I thought I was the only one suffering angst around replenishing my supply. I felt alone, thinking I was the sole person raging against the wrapping. Jackie admitted that she dislikes it as much as I do.
It can be put off no longer. The re-used countless times, easy-open, not-childproof pill bottle is down to two tablets. I have no choice.
It’s Time to Buy Benadryl Again
I get the pink tablets with the B emblazoned on them, having found they are the easiest to swallow. More than other brands, Benadryl cures the sinus headaches that can reach the incapacitation level of a migraine. I tried non-drowsy Claritin D once upon a time and was awake for three days. A productive, but exhaustion trio of days.
Western Pennsylvania, unlike the clear mountain air of Montana, is hard on my head. This is a high seasonal allergy area. It’s a high humidity area. And, it’s a high whatever it is in the winter that brings on draining sinuses and a congested nose. How does a congested nose run to the point of depleting a box of tissues?
My Benadryl stock-up takes place twice annually, at least. Sometimes I luck into a Costco deal—three boxes holding 48 tablets or a total of 144. Thankfully, I don’t take them daily and I rarely need more than one to get the job done?
And so the Frustration Begins
At home, I open the boxes and my grumbling begins. My combined muttering under my breath and flat out, loudly complaining causes my wisely husband to leaves the room. Scissors come out, cutting each row of tablets, carefully not cutting the pill (why I avoid the gel version). Use a fingernail, bend the foil aside, pop the pill onto the confirmed-to-be-dry table, scoop, drop them in the bottle.
One hundred and forty-four times I do this—it’s better to get my complaining over with at once. Can you imagine dealing with me while I’m on this rant?
If we (Jackie, in case you forgot) at sixty—hate the wrapping, what do folks older than us do? I feel that way about opening many things from olive jars to Costco’s Animal Cookies. I rail against the manufacturers, swearing if I ever come up against the Tylenol killer in heaven, I’m getting him sent south. (Young readers, if you aren’t familiar with this sad piece of our history, Google to understand why tamper-proof packaging exists.) Childproof when I was a kid was either the item put up high or an adamant, don’t touch this! from our parents. And guess what? We didn’t touch. After 1982, that all changed.
Back to the Question, Back to My Angst, My Frustration
What is the purpose of these stupid rectangular foil-wrapped pill cozies? When they first came out, I tried carrying them in my purse, thinking wow, great idea. Then the practicality of trying to get to one of the pill gems-of-relief obliterated my tiny joy. It took a minute to get it open, poking the edge of the foil under my fingernail—drawing blood. I mean, honestly, just let me pop the bottle lid and get to it.
Manufacturer’s: When I’m in pain, it’s not easy to fold the foil back and forth, separate it, bend the corner, peel it out, and reach the drug to cure a headache?
Who needs that frustration?
Who’s the target market for the little buggers? Most men aren’t going to have the foresight to carry the little individual packets, so that leaves them out. Women, more than likely, tote cute tablet containers in our purses, often with a pretty design on the top. Mine is plain blue plastic and came from the Dollar Tree. If you’re crazy extravagant, go for the tiny sterling silver tortoise pill case I saw for a mere $294. Really, who does this?).
Sigh, a benefit of winter season is that my consumption of allergy meds usually decreases. As I mentioned, the unusual fall weather is wreaking havoc with warm temperatures followed by dropping ones. My supply is dwindling, so I must cave to the pressure and pick them off the shelf.
Time to stock up and start riling against J&J all over again.
Note: I discovered Benadryl in a bottle!
*Read: I am the queen of something, if not unwrapping pills