So it's confession time here at One For the Road, and boy do I have a confession to make. Something so dark and sinister that... Oh hell. It's really no big deal, and you're going to think I'm a pussy when I tell you what it is anyway:
I have a pathological fear of getting sick with a seasonal cold or flu. Not just because things like this happen. The thought of bronchitis alone can send me into a panic attack! It's not just the fevers, the aching, the snot and the phlegm. It's the antibiotics.
Yes, people. I'm scared of pills. It's part of the reason why I had three kids before I turned 27! I can't swallow them, for one thing. I am psychologically incapable of swallowing medication. My brain just makes my throat close up tighter than a tween at a chastity convention. Not just the physical act of swallowing tablets or capsules, but the very words "tablets" and "capsules" just gross me out anyway. Period.
If the actual (gag) antibiotic (gag) pill (gag) is not enough to make you want to run screaming from the room, think of the side effects. Itchy skin. Black, hairy tongue. Yeast infections. EWWWW!!!!!!!! Why, why in the name of Buddha would anyone want to take a medicine that makes you need to take more medicine that you have to shove up your hoochie? Especially when you're already ill and miserable to begin with?!
Though you all know that in my life everything is about me, so when it's all about me it has to be worse than it could ever be for you. Because not only do I have a fear of being sick, and a fear of taking medicine... I'm allergic to certain kinds of medicine. So that when I get something like Bronchitis, I don't just get to take the ordinary antibiotics that most people get to take. Hells no.
I get to come out of that pharmacy with a big old box that says, "Canada's Leading Treatment for Chlamydia". Not only do I have to take the medicine for the clap, it has to say it all over the box because there is no generic version that I can take. And! I live in a town where the population is less than 2000, and there is only one drugstore. A drugstore where people that I know and see all the time are working.
When I get sick, I am traveling. When I go to pick up my clap meds, I'm out driving to the next town, or hell even into the city so that I can pick them up and still remain slightly anonymous. The amount of fossil fuels I burn are nothing compared to the unbelievable feeling of treating my Chlamydia away from the prying eyes of my fellow townsfolk.
Yes, I know I don't actually have Chlamydia! But what if I did? They'd be talking about it for years! I still haven't lived down the time I went to pick up the kids from school in a mini-dress with electric blue tights, or that time my two year old yelled out, "Hello you old lady!" to one of the women collecting for the Salvation Army at Christmas time... There were those few incidences at the pub where there was whiskey and dancing on tables involved. Or the time that I told the Jehovah's Witness octogenarian to fuck off...
Add The Clap into that mix and dammit, I'd have to move! I'm just not ready to come out of the Chlamydia Closet yet. How about you? Discuss.
That's all,
Twills
XOXO
