amoxil, trimox, zithromax, bacitracin, erythromycin, ciprofloxacin, omnicef and cephalexin.
these are the words I have learned after years of study and residency for my MdC degree--Mother of diseased Children. yep, I can engage in playful banter, or serious brows-furrowed consultation, with any pediatrician and/or ENT specialist. my ability is a powerful one, but I adhere to the advice of Uncle Ben to Peter Parker, "with great power comes great responsibility."
for instance, when a non-MdC degreed mom is being pushed into purchasing the grape flavor for her omnicef prescription because the Meijer pharmacist lackey tells her it "really improves the taste," I will feign reaching for blistex and whisper, "save your money, nothing makes omnicef taste better." I will not, however, share the omnicef side effects that the poor victims (child and parent) will endure: gagging, tears, teeth clenching in refusal to take the med, and bribery may all occur three times a day for 10 days. to reveal that much information would just be cruel and looking like a "Mrs. Know-it-All, MdC" who wants to come off like that? tee hee!
so after years of shoveling out the multi-syllable words along with multi-dollarsign co-pays, the years of standing in the Meijer Pharmacy line while child-in-pain begs to be shot and put out of their misery, years of the genteel elderly hacking up phlegm into their wadded up handkerchiefs (hmmm, handy pocket bacteria at your fingertips!), what miracle of miracles happens...FREE ANTIBIOTIC PRESCRIPTIONS! AND...brand new MEIJER PHARMACY DRIVE THRU!
can you even believe my luck?! as a mom with the monogrammed bench for her Gold-Level sponsorship in the pediatrician's office (not really, but I should look into that), I am finally given a break--free antibiotics--or as we liked to call them "ickies." and I can keep my precious, disease infested, angry as a rabid dog, cherubs in the car and away from breakables. the elderly are included in the "breakable" category.
the pharmacy drive thru was placed on the west side of the parking lot--yes next to the Garden-for-5-months-of-the-year-Center. the large red-lettered signage declares "drive-thru pharmacy" over a large drive-thru banking type of window. it doesn't have the sucky-uppy tube like a bank, just the shove out drawer, flanked by two red painted cement posts. my "raging ear and sinus infection daughter" (that's her pet name at the peds office) is literally writhing in pain in the backseat of my odyssey, she reminds me of a Star Trek episode when Kirk is tortured with an awful high pitched noise and... dramatically... falls... to... his... knees... gasp!
apparently, when the plan to put the drive-thru on the west side of the building was concocted, they forgot that there is this big, blinding thing called the SUN that sets in the evening sky...everyday. I reach out to press the buzzer and am suddenly blinded by the reflection of said "sun." I feel for the buzzer and press frantically while I cover my eyes to readjust. the poor pharmacist walks towards me with her arms stretched out trying to reach the phone to talk to me. she put a hand over her eyes, and gives me a harried, "can I help you?" I squint my eyes and shout out my child's name. the pharmacist runs from her direct exposure to the sun, retrieves my med then approaches the window with one hand covering her eyes while the other searches the counter for the phone.
needless to say, paying with my debit card turned into a drive-thru drawer nightmare with me unable to reach it (remember the cement posts), getting out of my seatbelt, body through car window, squinting to type my PIN on the little machine, waiting for pharmacist to go through an acrobatic act with the VISA machine in order to read the digital "approved" readout, her search for the bag of meds she put down, shove the meds into drawer, while I wait with my hand over my eyes, hanging out my odyssey window as Capt. Kirk screams from the back seat, "THE PAIN! STOP THE PAIN!"
sheeesssshhhhh! but here's the best part, I've only had to go through that scene once. apparently, with the onset of free antibiotics and drive-thru windows, my children are cured! my up-to-this-point-bags-of-bacteria-susceptible-children are suddenly the embodiment of all things hardy and thriving. welcome to my world.