OCTOBER 4, 2022 – This year I’ve developed heightened appreciation for what others do for a living—particularly in medical care and research. This morning my sharpened gratitude extended to the concrete prep work unfolding in front and back of our house. Precision in word-smithing (my principal vocational activity) is one thing, but try operating with precision, a Bobcat armed with a skid steer-mounted hydraulic breaker—without destroying half the neighborhood, let alone the garage floor abutting the concrete you’re breaking up. Or try digging a footing trench that has plumb sides and level bottom.
As I watched our contractor, who’s pushing 70, and his righthand man, who must be in his 60s, I was impressed by their skill and hard work. It occurred to me to add a bonus to the contract amount, especially since the contractor, a long-time neighbor, had given us a good deal on his bid. “He and the other guy deserve something extra,” I thought.
This impulse, however, came at an immediate cost: distraction from my morning pill-popping routine.
Currently, I take only two meds (two-and-a-half, if you count the non-prescription vitamin B6 that my doctor recommends): a big GREEN pill (mega-vitamin D) and a big BLUE pill (acyclovir, an anti-viral drug). Each morning, I take these in the same order: vitamin B6 tablet, GREEN pill, BLUE pill, each crushed between my jaws and swallowed with a few swigs of water. But today I tripped. Had I taken the BLUE?
This happened once before, several weeks ago, but I’d managed to backtrack. I knew exactly when I’d started taking the BLUE pills, and the total number of pills, of course, was printed on the label. With simple arithmetic I’d solved the problem. Today was different. Recently, I’d transferred from a pillbox, several BLUE pills, but I had no idea whether “several” had been three, four, or five. Arithmetic couldn’t provide a precise answer.
I darted into the bathroom, flipped on the light, leaned into the mirror, and opened my mouth wide to search for GREEN . . . or BLUE . . . residue on my lower molars. I couldn’t tell. After washing my hands (mouth frozen open, gaping at the mirror), I dried them on my shirt, then used my right pinky fingernail to extract a sample of GREEN (or BLUE?) powder from a molar.
Next, I placed the sample on a white napkin and compared it to a GREEN pill. “Ah ha!” I said. “It’s GREEN! This proves that I didn’t yet take the BLUE pill.” But to double-check, I placed a BLUE pill next to the sample. “Sh_ _!” I exclaimed, for now the sample looked . . . BLUE.
If math couldn’t provide certainty, at least a bit of reasoning might deliver a solution. First, until today, my medication compliance since “Transplant Day 1” had been 100%; presumably, one “miss” wouldn’t leave me vulnerable, particularly with a medication that is taken twice daily. Second, because I take GREEN and BLUE pills twice a day, doubtless I’d be safer skipping one BLUE pill (if I had, in fact, skipped) than taking a double dose (if, in my distracted state, I’d already taken one). Third, I could mitigate any potential adverse effect of skipping my morning dose of BLUE if I moved up by an hour or two, my evening dose.
Lesson learned: pay attention.
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
