Better Living Through Chemistry

2001, my grandmother home from the drug store with an armload of prescriptions, sitting at the kitchen table with the little week-long, seven cubicle old age aid to dosage regularity, putting one pill in each cubicle from prescription after prescription, so that they're bulging out of the little tops so that she has to force the lids down, hoping they'll catch and stay closed, then at dinner she's gulping them down even the horse pills, taking them with little bites of applesauce all the while grumping that they cost about $400.00 a month even with insurance, but her blood pressure's good, her heart strong, no dizziness, better living through chemistry.

2003, my first taste of antidepressants, Zoloft or a generic equivalent and, mmmmmm, suddenly I'm feeling real good walking to the mail box, realizing I'm not sad and I don't hurt, mmmmmm, I could like this, I could smile like this, hell, is this how normal people feel all the time?  Feel the sun and the breeze, see the green of the grass and the blue of the sky, the white house with dogs capering in the front yard, the driveway warm under my bare feet, straighten up, shake off the gloom, see a future different from the hell of the last year, who cares that my pecker's numb, worthy trade-off, better living through chemistry.

2007, had enough of these damn pills, tired of taking them each day, dependent, weak, junked-up fuzzy thinking, need clarity now more than relief, need to write and think, argue my point, dissertation, after all depression is a feeling, I feel a certain way, just a way of feeling and I can tolerate, realize that the feeling is not the sole reality, bye-bye shrink, ink on the arm to celebrate, I am my family - A lexa, N ancy, I an, ani means me, hey for Hayes, bye-bye Cymbalta it was good to know you, now just me and MY brain chemistry.

Today, one year in and eight meds down after running home from the AT and straight to the doctor to get the meds again, the good ol' meds, but not Cymbalta 'cause it's $12.00 a day with a catastrophic illness insurance policy so the drugs are full price, try the generics the cheap ones, one year on and tricyclics do the job, like Zoloft only instead of welcome to the monkey house numbness I've gained a middle-aged prostate needing some of my dad's Flomax, fair trade-off, thinking about feeling again, just a feeling, thinking about working again, hating the thought of taking meds each day for the rest of my life, my life insufficient without aid, my life halting and spare, ill like my grandmother was (may she rest in peace), each year the pills will multiply, someday I'll have my own week of cubes with pills bulging out the top and from now to then each day is a medicated day, a weak day, but better living through chemistry.