Look What I've Become

If I get hauled off to jail, I'll blame it on Bro Bro.

My doctor and I agreed I should experiment with the dosage for my Prozac to determine what dose works best. She's given me a one-month supply till our next visit. To let me play with the dose, she's prescribed 10 mg pills. I can take one pill, then move up to two, depending on how I feel. My gut feeling is I am better on 10 mg.

Only, a 10 mg pill is more expensive than a 20 mg pill. If I end up taking 20 mg of Prozac as two 10 mg pills, I am paying twice for my medication. So Bro Bro came up with an ingenius solution. He would give me the pills at 20 mg, plus empty capsules. All I have to do go home and divide the pills to turn them into 10 mg capsules. That way, I pay 54 cents for a 10 mg pill instead of $1.14, or worse, pay $2.28 for two 10 mg pills instead of $1.08 for one 20 mg pill. Follow me so far? Me neither, but at the time, Bro Bro got me convinced. You had to be there.

So I spend the evening pulling apart my medication pill by pill, spilling the white Prozac powder on a piece of paper, cutting the powder in two lines, then filling each line into an empty capsule to create two capsules from one.

This is a prescription drug. I have a prescription. My doctor recommended it and is working with me to find the right dose. Yet, I felt so stealthy, manipulating the drug, as if I had gone over to the dark side, called on my nefarious twin, invoked my inner Slim Shady - will you please stand up? Yeah, we're gonna have a problem here.

For one thing, my mother is staying with us for the week. I had to make sure neither she nor The Boy sees me. How would I explain cutting white powder into lines?

Thankfully, mom went to bed early. The Boy has been glued to the TV after an exhausting day of jamming. Mom snoozes, Boy tuned to the tube, I cut white powder. I know, it's so trailer park trashy.