Tag: Tums

Redecorating My Home in Modern Pharmacy Decor

The other day as I was picking up my prescriptions at Walgreen’s and checking out the cane selection I suddenly stopped. Out of nowhere it occurred to me that I had accumulated more medical supplies than an Urgent Care.

The thought truly caused my head to spin with the knowledge how much of my home space was now covered in pills, pill holders, canes and a walker, which I hesitate to throw away in case my other knee refuses to work. My refrigerator is filled with gel-filled masks and under-eye patches, a freezer full of ice packs and bathroom drawers filled with pain patches, band aids, gauze, ace bandages to fit every part of my body, creams, lotions and gels for all and any ailment imaginable in the human condition.

And lest we forget the ready supply of heating pads, heating booties, around the neck microwavable heat pillows and anything that will warm and fit around all body parts. And heaven forbid we go to bed without our night guard to protect our fragile teeth.

Yet truly I’m healthy. Do people who are ill have to move into larger homes to accommodate all their medical supplies?

I never really noticed all this paraphernalia because unless you need it who pays attention?

But now that I’m paying attention, I’m asking myself, “What the Hell?”

Forget the cost of all this equipment, what stuns me is when did my life switch from English bone China, fabulous clothes, drooling over gorgeous jewelry and handbags to “Oh boy, there’s a two-for-one sale on Tums today?”

When did I stop shopping for relaxing spas and start filling my house with heartburn meds and probiotics?

When did my life change from Xbox to ex lax?

When does your husband switch from picking up flowers to picking up your prescriptions?

When did my stomach become less about Spanx and more about stool softeners?

So of course I had to take a beat to ponder about how much life had changed. How much the different stages of our lives can be sized up by simply glancing around one’s home and the items in abundance.

When you are single your closets are filled with high-heels, fabulous bags and the latest styles.

Now it’s about what shoes don’t kill your feet and a bag that won’t be too heavy to carry when filled.

In the children stage you had baby gear, then teen objects. Then when they left for college it was, oh boy room for more stuff now.

And what was the stuff? Tennis racquets, golf clubs, swimming gear, beachwear and lots of SPF creams. Suitcases for travel and brochures for Europe, cruises and proof of wanderlust.

Then came your grandchildren and your home was suddenly filled once again with toys, diapers and kid stuff.

It is apparent that there is a constant change of cycles occurring except for one sad fact.

The one where your house is suddenly a medical supply store won’t revert back to toys and travel brochures ever again.

You have become brutally aware that elasticity has nothing to do with your skin now, but something to wrap around a sore knee or elbow.

One of my kitchen counters now replicates my mother’s house and is filled with meds to take each day.

It happens so subtly we aren’t even aware it’s happening. Then boom, one day we’re wandering around CVS thinking, gosh I spend a lot of money here. And even sadder a lot of time.

So what are we to do to keep our age stuff from literally driving us out of our own home?

Would putting it in pretty containers hide its purpose? Would trying to limit it all to only a few select spaces in your home avoid having to see it as a constant reminder that the toys and high heel portion of life concluded while we weren’t looking?

Maybe there are some unique and clever ways to hide the “stuff” from our constant gaze. Perhaps we could make it look less intrusive and fill drawers instead.

Yet, just as when we were young so many of us had to keep stuff “just in case,” so it is now.

Sure, you don’t need that walker from your knee surgery, but what if you fall? You don’t need the drug store stash of stomach meds and wound healing equipment, but what if? I mean if you cut yourself are you going to run out and buy gauze at that moment? No, and that stuff was always in your home in case your kids scraped a knee, or you injured yourself cutting a bagel. Or that new pair of shoes was causing a blister on your heel.

Yet why does the, it’s just there in case, feel so unsettling when once it felt reassuring?

On the positive side all those meds we pop each day help us live longer and experience a higher quality of life. So why am I ranting about having it around?

I’m pretty sure it’s because it’s another reminder of Father Time crashing my party. I need a bouncer to throw his tired old ass out.

I know we need this stuff, but I guess I’d just feel a whole lot better if I didn’t have to see it everywhere.

Perhaps those pretty containers are actually a good idea. Might we feel younger leaning on a Prada cane or a Fendi walker?

Guess I’ll pull out some of the pretty dishes I’ve stowed away and find a new use for them. One must do what one can to feel young these days. All ideas are welcome here so if you can think of some please share.

While I’m at it I think I’ll smash the ten-times magnifying mirror. No good can ever come from looking into that evil invention!

Tripping The Light Not So Fantastic

I imagine we all remember how slowly time passed when we were young. It always seemed like summer vacation was a lifetime away.

I also remember how we all rushed through our lives. We couldn’t wait to turn sixteen so we could drive, or twenty-one so we could drink.

As we grew older we thought, wow, pretty soon I’ll get a senior discount.

How stupid do I feel? If I knew then what I know now, I’d say, screw the driver’s license I’m good just walking.

And to be excited about a senior discount? What the hell? Were the drugs we did in the sixties finally kicking in?

In our rush to speed through life and get to the next milestone faster than an LA blond chases a rich, old fool, we forgot one important thing…aging is a bitch!

We also were too foolish to realize that the road we hurried to travel was one way and return tickets don’t exist.

About getting older there is something upon which we can all agree…it sucks.

My life now is made up of doctor’s appointments, remortgaging the house to afford trips to the dentist, and an inability to live without an ice pack or heating pad attached somewhere to my body.

I travel frequently now. Only my trips aren’t to Europe, Asia or Bora Bora. They are trips over the rug, the curb, or the sidewalk that lifted up from a tree root. Hard to love trees after you kiss the pavement at twenty miles an hour.

I can even go to bed at night and wake up with a pain somewhere I didn’t possess the night before. It’s like the tooth fairy has been replaced by the pain fairy.

I find myself tripping and not in the way Timothy Leary proposed, but over any object that’s within two inches of my feet.

I swear sometimes I have seen a rug actually move closer to get under my foot and send me flying.

Someone should invent trip-free shoes or slippers that yell a warning when they see an object coming to get in our way. Now there’s a Nobel Prize I could sanction.

Speaking of trips, the bathroom is a place I frequent often at night without the need for a passport. Good luck getting back to sleep again. My bladder used to be the size of a lentil now it’s shrunken to a raisin.

Don’t for one minute think I’m alone in this clumsiness convention here. I’m always receiving calls from friends, and the minute I hear their voices I know immediately.

I start the conversation with, “Okay so where did you fall?”

If you think for one minute that after you heal there won’t be another adventure in pain awaiting you, I have a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you. If you can get across it these days.

Black ice, the enemy of the aging is the reason people move to Florida and Arizona. Even people who are old and senile are smart enough to know not to move to California for warmer weather. The danger of catching stupidity and insanity in this state can be fatal.

So, life has pretty much become, okay, on to the next thing. Or my favorite mantra, this too shall pass.

Of course, I haven’t even mentioned the really bad stuff that’s harder to fix than using ice packs or heating pads. There’s that to contend with as well.

So you’re probably thinking, “I know people who are old and live amazing and active lives.” That’s so rare Netflix does specials on them. Did you notice they all seem to live in clusters in a place that probably has no throw rugs, black ice or uplifted curbs.

I’m certain everyone over the age of sixty-five has a list of places they’ve fallen and every doctor or dentist they frequent is on speed dial on their phone.

My new favorite is going to lunch with friends. While we once used to actually peruse the menu for our favorite dishes, we now check for foods we are allowed to eat.

A typical friend’s lunch these days sounds like this…

“Oh I love their ravioli, but last time I ate it I was sick for a week.”

“I know, it gives me terrible heartburn. I’ll just have a salad.”

“I can’t eat salad, the ruffage gets to me.”

“They say you shouldn’t eat certain vegetables if you have acid reflux.”

“No green pepper please. I’ll be burping it for days.”

“I can’t live without my Tums. They literally save me.”

“Let’s order quickly cause if it gets too late I can’t eat a complete meal.”

“Waiter, can you please ask them to go easy on the garlic and make the marinara sauce with cream? Otherwise it’s too acidic.”

“I’ll just have half an order of the spaghetti please. If I eat too much, I can’t sleep all night and easy on the salt, I bloat.”

‘I was going to have a face lift but I decided to have my bladder lifted instead.”

“You’re smart to do that. Who can handle wearing those diapers?”

“Oh, and waiter, be careful not to trip over my cane, I’m still recovering from a fall.”

Lunch nowadays sounds more like a medical convention than a meal.

Then there’s the balance issue. I used to have such great balance that seals with balls on their nose envied me. Now I have to hold onto walls when I’m attempting to exercise.

Yet on a positive note, I do have friends who stay active especially the ones I call the pickleball posse. They seem to be able to do the things so many of us only dream of doing now.

Forget pickleball, I’m thrilled if I can just eat a pickle without heartburn.

Walking downstairs used to take a minute, but now it takes half the day. Instead of one foot after another, it’s one foot then put the other foot on the same step and then move on to the next one.

And heaven forbid there is no railing.

I have so many bars in my shower and tub now it looks like saloon row in Las Vegas after dark.

I guess if we weren’t all talking about our aches and pains we’d have to discuss the horrible things we now call reality. So maybe a fall or two is worth avoiding the bad trip that is the news today. Let’s face it, hanging in there is still the real goal.

I guess being a klutz is a good thing after all. It does prove we’re still here and kicking. Well maybe not kicking…