He had scrambled looking all through the fridge in the back for it. It is not often my father screws up.
"I didn't want to take it anyway," I said under my breath.
"What did you say?" my father asked, normally hard of hearing.
"I said I will take it later," I replied, lying.
Last night I started to feel well -- the first time I have felt well in over a week. I am starting to believe Pipe Tobacco in that it is all the countless medications I am on and their interactions that are causing my attacks. I have been told it was alcohol withdrawal. Dehydration. And caffeine overdose. My head is swimming with advice about this matter and I don't know what to believe.
"I'll call you in the morning," my father said. "You need that shot badly."
"I am actually feeling well," I replied. "I feel better today than I have in weeks."
"Grrrrr," I could hear my father grumble under his breath. He hates when I disparage my medications.
I left the drug store and drove home determined I wasn't going to take that shot tomorrow. I feel cured. I don't want to be schizophrenic any longer. I don't want to be force fed mounds of medications and to feel stupid, slow, and asexual all the time. It will be a major battle in the morning with my father coming over and forcing me to go down to the doctor's office to get that shot. I hope I can hold off an attack. Wish me luck!