WAITING ON THE DRUGGIST CAN BE A SICKENING EXPERIENCE

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: THURSDAY, January 23, 1992                   TAG: 9201220175
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: E-1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BEN BEAGLE
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium
WAITING ON THE DRUGGIST CAN BE A SICKENING EXPERIENCE
Part of The Great Army of Suffering Americans was there when I went to the drugstore for this stuff I needed to prolong my life.
These were desperate people. They looked hurt. Beaten. Old before their time.
I had a fever myself and may have been hallucinating, but I'm pretty sure there was a guy there with an envelope taped to the back of his parka.
The writing on it said: "To be opened in the event of my death."
There was a woman with vacant eyes. She kept asking: "Why me? Can you tell me that? Why me?"
At my age, I certainly don't want to offend any pharmacist, but you have to wonder why it takes so long sometimes to get a prescription filled.
I mean, these people aren't in the back room in a laboratory with all of these whirring things that give off sparks - while Frankenstein waits for them to finish his bride.
They're not pouring the contents of one beaker into another, watching the mixture smoke and screaming: "I've got it! At last I've got it! Ahahahahahahahahah!"
No. As far as I can tell, they pour pills from a big bottle into a little bottle or something like that.
I realize that I've gone too far and will now be denied access to life-sustaining substances at my favorite drugstore.
To be frank, this does not bother me a whole lot. I probably will be beyond the help of drugs by the time you read this anyway.
(It's all right. You can go ahead and admit all of this bothers you, too. I won't tell a soul. I'm the one who's putting his life on the line here, not you.)
Discreet people don't like to keep standing around looking at the druggist while they're waiting. It isn't considered good form, and it hurts when you're too sick to hold your head up.
A lot of people avoid this by overuse of the blood pressure machine, and the readings get worse and worse.
I know better than that. I walk up and down the aisles looking at all the things you can buy in a drugstore today.
When you're running a fever, you tend to make irrational purchasing decisions.
The other day, for example, I came very close to buying a complete makeup set, a blow dryer and some real nice rinse.
I still wish I had bought the foot-massaging machine.
The time passes somehow, and they call your name and you begin to hope again.
It may not be a new beginning, but the end doesn't seem as near. The woman who was asking "Why me?" looks a lot better.
Whoa! Is that the guy with envelope on his back lying across the hood of that car in the parking lot?

by Archana Subramaniam by CNB