The phone rang at 7:30 AM.
"I am coming to get you to get your shot," my mother said on the other end of the line.
I hung up the phone after saying thanks for the call and muttered under my breath, "It's too damn early for this."
Once again, I put my life in my mother's hands and let her drive. She was still asleep as well.
"How did you get harangued into doing this?" I asked her.
"Your father," mom replied. "He is afraid you won't go."
I chuckled. I have been amusingly calling my father "the dope man" lately. The amount of pills he wants me to take keep increasing.
"Don't you get tired of taking all these pills as well?" I asked mom.
"Your father would kill me if I even mentioned going off some," she replied.
"The dope man" was glad to see me when I walked into the pharmacy. He pushed the green box of Risperdal Consta across the counter towards me with a devious smile. Medicare part D was billed $524 dollars for this one injection.
"You will feel better in a few hours," he told me.
My shoulders slumped as dragged myself out of the pharmacy, into mom's car, and down to my doctor's office. The good thing is that I am feeling better already. I struggled with my anxiety attacks all weekend thus the lack of writing. I have a love/hate relationship with all the medications I am on.