1094. Warning label

Warning: This medication can cause blindness. Should this happen, see a doctor.

 

P.S. – nothing to do with the above story:

An anthology of poetry – which includes three poems by the late Cynthia Jobin and also dedicated to her memory (many of you will remember her and her blog littleoldladywho) – was released the other day by Bennison Books. You can read more about it here and also purchase it if you so wished. (Things open in a new window) It’s for a good cause. (And as a corollary to this announcement: I’ve got a couple of poems in there as well!)

750. An ordinary Friday

Cosima glanced up at the shelf where she kept her bottles of medicinal pills.

“That’s funny,” she thought. “They’re all empty. There were pills in those bottles yesterday.”

And then she heard it… a faint whimper; more of a pianissimo shriek. It came from behind the…

Oh my God! OH MY GOD! THERE! OH MY GOD!

And to think, the day had started out as an ordinary Friday.

372. Ella’s medical complaint

Biology was not Ella’s forte. She had been to three different doctors. They were all useless.

Each time the doctor had examined her throat. Each time the doctor had said the same thing: “Really, you shouldn’t be having any problems with this at your age. It’s usually only with children, and then it disappears after about the age of five. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“But doctor, it hurts,” said Ella.

Eventually, it took a specialist to sort it out. And the specialist was way out of her field. She looked at Ella’s throat.

“No! No!” said Ella.

“I think you mean haemorrhoids, dear,” said the specialist. “Not adenoids.”

206. Heading for ninety

Simone was heading for ninety. She had to take five pills every day; four in the morning and one at night. One pill was for cholesterol. The other pills she wasn’t sure what they were for, but the doctor said to take them, so she did.

She took the four pills in the morning, and then a little while later she couldn’t remember if she’d taken the pills. Did I take the pills or not? she asked herself. To be on the safe side, she didn’t take another lot. She didn’t want to overdose.

A few days later, once again, she couldn’t remember if she had taken the pills. Enough is enough! thought Simone. I’m getting one of those plastic weekly pill containers. So she did. And there it was, with a little separate pill compartment for each day of the week.

Simone couldn’t remember what day of the week it was. Come Tuesday, she was sure she’d taken Wednesday’s pills. Or did I just forget to fill it with the pills at the start of the week?

She hadn’t lost her marbles. It was simply one of those jolly things about getting old.