My Medicine Cabinet

Seniors, we’re told, love medicines. Often, the more the better. If a physician says ‘take two aspirins and go to bed’ we’re liable to reason ‘if I take three or four it ought to be better.’ When we do this with medicines on our own, we’re asking for trouble. In fact, at times we might be better off taking half a dosage rather than overdose. Check with Doc first, though.

I am not a physician so take this with a grain of salt.

Recently we went on a four-day journey on a scouting mission. We packed for both warm and cool weather, and unlike the sage advice (take half as much clothing and twice as much money), we took too much clothing. Among other items, I took my 7-day box of pills and typical of a change of pace, I forgot once or twice to take those pills. I am fortunate in that I don’t need prescription drugs but I do take vitamins and minerals primarily.

We returned home and when I checked my pill box, I had missed two days out of five. Imagine. Fortunately, these were not life-saving medications. So, rather than double up (which is not recommended), I reminded myself that I have a pretty good forgetter.

While enduring cataracts (not yet ready for removal), I take eye drops on occasion. When I forget, I often take a drop in each eye before retiring. The other night I reached into the closet in our bathroom, took a bottle of eye drops, and popped a drop into my eye. Immediately I knew I had taken the wrong bottle, similar in size and shape but there the similarity ended. My eye screeched in pain. I immediately poured water into my eye and washed it the best I could.

The pain quickly subsided, fortunately, and I discovered my error. Close call. I quickly put the proper fluid into my eye, and repeated it a couple of times until I felt I was exonerated.

Now, perhaps I should have gone to my physician (had the pain or other symptoms lingered, I probably would have considered it). On the other hand, we seniors can get too hung up on pestering our doctors. My senior moment this time was ‘should I or shouldn’t I seek professional care or advice?’ If I go blind, I’ll have no one else to blame (and you will be relieved of wading through these senior moments).

The moral is obvious. As we age, our bodies and minds age right along with us. We are not as nimble as we once may have been. At times our age and experience makes up for our shortcomings (and we can readily dream up excuses as well). We do take more medicine, walk less, ride more and we may indeed eat less and enjoy a better diet. Even so, there are times when we do forget, procrastinate, and equivocate (mislead ourselves).

Yes, we do need pill boxes. We do need medical attention. We do need a balanced diet with exercise. Simply trusting our fallible memory or a faithful spouse or sheer luck may not be enough. As they say, we may need to put it in writing (like on the refrigerator or garage door), stash the pills into a weekly or monthly receptacle, set an alarm, come to terms with our memory . . .

I can hear some of you: I don’t need a pill box. I don’t like alarms. I won’t desecrate my refrigerator. I will call my doctor if I feel like it. I hear you. But these infamous words may haunt you someday: I told you so. Mind your own business. It’s my body, not yours. I’ll take my chances. Just remember: this senior moment might save your life. Really.