I think it would be easier for me to score some crack than it is for me to fill the Adderall prescription I picked up from the doctor last week.
I have been to every pharmacy in town. They cannot fill my prescription because either they don’t have it in stock, they don’t have the ability to fill a partial and make up the difference in a week, they can’t even order any because they are without a pharmacy manager who must sign off on an order of controlled substances in order to receive them, or they are incompatible with my insurance and pharmacy benefit system (not that they do much besides make it harder for me to get these medications at a decent price…).
Here we are, five days away from the beginning of school and there are exactly four. pills. left. Just four. My prescription ran out a week ago — I’ve been borrowing from Sticks’ prescription (we have the same script and same milligrams, so it’s not a sin….) figuring I’d fill both of them at the same time and be done for 90 days. I am an optimist. A naive optimist.
I really hate the way our meds are viewed by the insurers, state and pharmacies. I do understand that there are huge potentials for abuse, but let’s face facts — kids are getting high from Sharpies and huffing anything they can get their hands on, including canned air for blowing dust out of computers. Sudafed is off the shelves and behind the pharmacy counter because it can be distilled into meth and I’m waiting for them to announce on the nightly news that Starbucks is highly addictive and therefore has been restricted to adults over the age of 21. I’m sure someone is trying to figure out how to distill lattes into crack, too. Does anyone really think these measures really stop people who are determined to get high?
No. The people who are stopped are people like me. Between the arrogant little insurance pissants who don’t know me from their favorite grocery clerk but think they should tell me what medication to take if I want the insurance that my employer AND I pay handsomely for to cover them, the pharmacies who are completely useless when it comes to filling anything more advanced than a prescription for antibiotics and the federal and state watchdogs, getting this medication takes an act of God. Or a criminal mind. At this point, I’m not sure which one would be more effective.
At the same time, the guy down the block that just got out of jail after the cops pulled him over for a DUI and found meth in the front seat was in his garage tonight making noise, being obnoxious and speeding higher than a kite. Evidently he hasn’t had a problem scoring his speed, but I’m sitting here with a piece of paper and the prospect of being out of meds in four short days. What’s wrong with that picture?
Where exactly are all the folks scoring the prescription drugs that are being abused to such an extent that those of us with legitimate purposes for having them cannot get them? I want to know, because I’m already paying for these medications out of pocket since the aforementioned pissants decided that my doctor doesn’t know what he’s doing and dictated what medications they deemed appropriate in the place of his judgment.
If I could just find a dealer maybe I could avoid the aggravation that I’m having now and that I have every 90 days when I’m faced with filling yet another one of these prescriptions. Maybe I’ll pay a visit to my neighbor tomorrow.
I hate IE. I used to like it and then I discovered Firefox. And then I discovered how pretty sites can look, decided to learn CSS and convert my volunteer sites over to that nice clean look without all the table kludge which I have always hated.
Service Pack 2 messed up the standard IE tweak scripts, and it took me forever to find something to fix them and even now they’re not right. grrrrr. IE browsers will become frustrated because my drop-down menus only hover to the second menu entry and then stall. And after about 48 hours of getting the styles done and tweaked and beginning to update and move content, I’m about ready to SCREAM. I HATE IE! I HATE IT! If I weren’t so tired, I’d be stomping my feet.
This site is out of control anyway — this is the beginning of my third year maintaining it, and being the packrat that I am, I don’t archive much. Sort of like our house and our lives…little snippets of magic times all piled into a box to review whenever we please.
I expect I’ll be at this for a few more days, but I sure do appreciate the resources that are on the web and in print. Without them I’d just have a ho-hum home-stitched site, but they’ve really been indispensable for making it look more polished. I can at least say that I know much, much more tonight than I did on Friday just through the experience of doing this, which was my goal when I started. I’m also beginning to hate typing with upper and lower case — after writing all the CSS and XHTML and having to remember to keep everything lower case, it’s actually effort to go back to “the proper way”.
The books I like the best are Charles Wyke-Smith’s “Stylin’ with CSS”, Eric Meyer’s “Eric Meyer on CSS” and “More Eric Meyer on CSS” and of course, “The CSS Zen Garden“.
Even though I’m ticked off at Microsoft for their quirky browser, I do feel victorious, because it is very difficult to stay focused on something for this long and actually deal with the details. With this type of coding, I’m forced to look at each and every detail pixel by pixel, section by section and figure it out. For someone with an attention deficit, that can be a real exercise, but I credit the great book resources I had for making it tolerable and in the case of the Firefox result, actually rewarding!
I think that today must be the day for weird disasters or something. I am still wondering exactly what possessed me to get out of bed this morning, and after reading Denise’s blog today I think maybe we all should have stayed in bed. What a day!
The “Before” picture is what my daughter’s comb looked like at 8:00 this morning.
The “After” picture is what it looked like at 2:30 this afternoon.
It looks like The Pug chewed it, but no…can’t blame her this time, though K did try.
After dragging ourselves out of bed this morning and hustling Drummerboy off to band camp moaning, groaning and grousing, we came home ready for coffee, the paper, and a slow start to the day. We arrive home, make the coffee, open up the paper and call to K (dancergirl) to get out of bed and get moving. We are slowly but surely trying to acclimate her to the possibility that she will actually have to be out of bed and moving MUCH earlier in the morning than she is now when school starts in a week and a half.
As I get to my favorite section of the paper and the second half of my first cup of coffee, The Pug goes mad, running from room to room trying to chase the gardeners down and eat them before they bring their lawnmowers and blowers too close to the house. She runs into K’s room and the next thing I hear is “Ouch! Ouch! PUG, OUT! OUT! OUCH!” A few more rounds of shouting ensue, the gardener comes closer with his damnable blower, shattering the peace of the morning with shrilly barks and bass blowers.
Finally, the gardeners retreat and so does The Pug.
Just about the time I settle back down for the next sip of coffee, K walks in our room. She is dressed (progress!), but her hair looks funny in front. I could’ve almost sworn there was a comb wrapped up in it. And I do mean wrapped, up to the nape and well-tangled. HUH?
K has a LOT of fine, wavy hair. It’s especially wavy in the front and is more hair than any 11-year old child should be allowed to have. Last weekend, while down at T’s sister’s (J), the hair was cut by the designer hairdresser that J uses. This person is the only person K will permit to touch her golden locks. I am barred from such things on the premise that: a) I hurt her; b) I have no sense of style; and c) I like her wavies in front and refuse to straighten them. In fact, I have been encouraging her to EMBRACE that lovely wavy hair, to wear it like she means it. No sleek, straight hair for one with such wonderful crimpy waves in the front — she should wash it, toss it and love it! (I would love one day with that amazing hair, waves, curls and all!)
So….seeing my pre-teen-somewhat-snobby daughter walk in with a comb completely wrapped in the FRONT of her hair (yes, the wavies…) was a shock. Tears are rolling down and she says…”I don’t know how, but the comb is tangled and I can’t get it out! Help!”
Quickly Mom springs into action, figuring that a few minutes unraveling the hair would take care of the problem and make me a hero for a few minutes anyway till I did some other stupid thing that preteens hate.
An hour later, I was no closer to removing the comb. It was time to bring in the big guns, so I got on AIM and pinged one of my co-workers with daughters and cried for help! She suggested detangler; I slapped my forehead. Of course! That will solve it!
An hour after that, I finished the bottle of detangler and had moved up to putting undiluted,expensive salon-brewed conditioner in her hair, hoping it would get it slippery enough to unwind. The crux of the problem was that she had it rolled up over the comb 4 or 5 times in 4 or 5 different directions, so the ends were completely locked by the wrapped hair, and hair overlapped hair, locking it down as tight as a snare drum.
By 12:00 I was starting to get aggravated. I’d finished the detangler, used way too much conditioner, and taken the scissors to the comb. (I know….why not just cut the hair? No, no…it was in the FRONT!!!!)
I cut the comb down so that only the piece that was actually wrapped remained. T then cut it down more, to remove the teeth to the comb as far as possible without cutting any hair so that what remained in her hair is what the “After” picture shows.
That helped some. I was able to disengage about half of the original tangle, but still was stymied by what remained. There was no rhyme or reason to anything, so I was confronted with the possibility of unwinding everything one hair at a time.
People like me don’t do “one hair at a time”. We have neither the patience nor the constitution for it. We are not wired to untangle sewing thread, fish line or hair. Plus, and this was the kicker….I had an eye doctor appointment at 2:30, it was rapidly approaching and I was completely not ready for it — not dressed to be in public, no shower, no hair brushing of my own, no nothing.
Desperation setting in, I FINALLY just decided to use another comb to burrow under the wrapped hair and pull it off the ends in chunks. I no longer cared whether there was a big tangle when the comb was out, because we could hide the tangle for the 4:15 dance class and figure it out later, but I was NOT going to miss my appointment.
2:20pm — The last clump of hair is removed from the comb. I throw the good, uncut comb and second bottle of detangler at her and tell her to work on the two HUGE knots in the front of her head, throw on some clothes, run out the door and make it to the eye doctor 5 minutes late, but there, nonetheless.
4:00pm — Arriving home with brand-spanking new monovision contacts that I can actually READ in for a change, I call up to her to see how it’s going. She walks out and shows me the four clips clipping the GIANT knots back but she’s ready for dance class so I don’t even bark.
10:00pm — The last knot is finally out, after buying a new “comb from hell” and the slimiest conditioner I can find to slick up those knots and get ‘em out (Dove).
Amazingly, I did not once tell my daughter how incredibly stupid it was to get a comb wrapped in her hair like that, nor did I act on impulse when I got frustrated and cut it out…I just kept reminding myself that I would hate it if those wavies were little hair stumps and kept trying to do it one hair at a time.
I just can’t help thinking that there must be better bonding opportunities than this. Dinner and a movie would’ve taken less time and been more fun.
It’s nice to untangle a messy web and make it smooth and pretty again. I like doing things like that, but not one hair at time.