A Day in the Life of Menstrua’s Minion.
I awoke after an evening of fits and sweats. And pain. As I dragged myself to the shower, I did some mental math. Yep. Today I am a servant of the Goddess Menstrua…and NOTHING shall quell my thirst for destruction.
Must…have…naproxen**…must…stop…pain!
I drag myself to the medicine box, which is technically a wooden bread box. My heart sags when I realize that, hey! I’m out of all painkillers! No acetominaphen. No aspirin. No ibuprofen. No naproxen. Nothing. I roar and hurl the breadbox into the kitchen wall, watching it splinter into a thousand pieces.
Menstrua cackles with glee and uses her mighty (and well-manicured) thumb and finger to flick me in the gut. Ugh.
Now I need to stop at CVS before work. Good thing there’s a 24 hour one nearby. But, lo! Something catches my eye in the rubbish that was my medicine box. A lone Thermacare pad. I weep with unbridled joy and kiss the plastic packet a dozen times. It will take 30 minutes to heat up, but will stay toasty for 8 hours.
After managing to pull myself together, I stumble down to the car like an extra from the Thriller video. “Mmmmmmm…drive car to store!!”
By now the Thermacare pad is in full effect and my loins are burning – but in a Rated G way. I should have worn these during the blizzard earlier this year…the snow would have melted around me!
CVS at 5:00 am – such a sad place to be. Because who else would be at a CVS at that time besides the deperately ill and crampy? I head to aisle 15a – analgesics. I want naproxen. I see Excedrin and Tylenol. I see Anacin and Advil. I see Bayer. I see More Tylenol. I see their generic cousins. Jeebus, this is like the end of Hypochondriac Romper Room. NO Naproxen?!?! RAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWR!!
I run my hands down the length of the shelf, knocking every last bottle to the ground. Menstrua be pleased!! Muahahhaa!! Hey…there it is! Being a savvy shopper, I choose the generic version (naproxen) from the pile.
“Cleanup in aisle 15.”
I pick up another box of Thermacares and then amble to the refrigerated cases for a bottle of water to wash the pills down with. Let’s see. Poland Springs. Evian. Deer Park. Dasani. Aquafina. CVS brand. Nesquik chocolate milk. Just what I was looking for! The thought of her temple being infused with chocolate appeases Menstrua, and she softens her crushing grip on my skull.
On the way to the cashier, I pass a mirrored section of the makeup aisle. If you ignore the fact that my left eye is spinning round and round within its socket, I look pretty darn good. I do! DARE YOU DEFY ME??? No? Good. See? We can get along!
I always feel sorry for the young adults who get the overnight shift. They have to put up with the likes of me.
“Do you have a CVS Extra Care card?” she asks.
“No.” I reply.
“Would you like to donate to Children’s something-something-something charity?”
“I eat children.”
She hands me my receipt and wishes me a good day. Nice girl. Hope she gets a better job.
Back into the car. Waiting at the light for the left-arrow to release me from the parking lot. I tear into the naproxen box. Twist off the top of the milk. Tear the foil wrap off with my teeth. Unscrew the top of the pill bottle. Two sweet little caplets drop into my hand. Menstrua howls her disapproval and unleashes a wave of nausea. My hand slips while twisting the top back onto the pill bottle and the bottle jerks free, scattering little blue pills all through my front seat, no doubt. It’s dark, so I really can’t see how many I’ve dropped.
Lovely. Now when the sun rises and people pass my car in the C-P lot, they’ll think I’m some sort of crazy pill addict.
I swallow two pills and let the sweet chocolate elixir wash them down. Ahhh…I’ll feel better in an hour.
During the drive, even the dulcet voice of Dave Matthews can’t soothe my pain. So I eject the CD from the player and eat it.
I park my pill-riddled car at the C-P and walk to the door.
“Good morning!” one of the drivers says to me as I swipe my keycards and gain entrance.
“I am a servant of the Goddess Menstrua,” I reply in a tinny voice that isn’t my own.
Forty-five minutes later…the feeling of no-pain washes over me. All that’s left are the splinters in my hands and the plastic taste in my mouth. I’m very warm, though. I don’t even mind the fact that the vinyl trim on the front of my desk is melting from its proximity to my lower abs.
**Naproxen is the active ingredient in Aleve. Being a pharmacist’s wife, I’m used to generics, because no matter what your friend Stella tells you, it’s the same darn thing as the name brand. Learn it. Love it. Save money. Buy CVS stock. Thank you.
Mood: Maniacal. You didn’t know this by now?
Work docket: Recipes, online mall
Lunch: We’re having a pizza party at noon. I know it sounds horrible, but I just don’t feel like dealing with a pizza party, so I’ll sneak out on my own.
Afternoon: Walk Max. Curl up on chair with blanket and think of all the things I should be doing in prep for trip.
Evening: Yoga at 7:30 if Menstrua allows. PopPop will be over Mom’s tonight, so I’ll swing by after class to say heya.
Work issues: I’m 98% sure my hunches re: boss interviewing for another job are correct. I just wonder where I’ll be sitting when I get back from vacation. Will my keycard still work? š
