Today’s episode brought to you by the friendly letters A, A, A, A, R, G and H
Going to put my weekly pills into my pill cubbies, I realize that I don’t have enough of my anti-falling-down meds on hand to fill the entire week. It’s odd because usually I would have noticed the week before, and left the container on the counter to remind me. No worries, I’ll go onto my handy-dandy Shoppers app and request a—
My prescription isn’t showing up on the Shoppers app. I look in the archived scripts and it says that betahistine – my Meniere’s medication – can’t be refilled online. Not a problem. I call Shoppers.
“Oh, sorry, no, we don’t have any betahistine. It’s on back order. We’re not sure when it’ll be back in stock. There’s a shortage. It says that your last refill was forwarded to York Super Pharmacy.”
Face palm. Of course it was. I got a partial refill from that pharmacy last month before Rissa and I had our mini break in NYC. I’ll just use their automated system and pick the pills up later.
I return from a walk to hear the faint metallic beep on our old school answering machine. “Heather, it’s York Super Pharmacy. We don’t have any betahistine in stock. It’s on back order. You’ll have to transfer your prescription to another pharmacy.”
They don’t have it?!? They don’t have—?? This is NOT good!! NOT GOOD!!
Just relax. Don’t go there. This’ll all be fine. There are plenty of other pharmacies around.
I call a pharmacy which is walkable distance from our house. “Sorry, it’s on back order.” I call another pharmacy close to the mall “Sorry. We’re out.” Another pharmacy further afield. “Sorry, back ordered.”
I count the pills that I have on hand. Five to put in this week’s pill cubbies and then another five in my emergency stash of pills that I keep in my purse. I take two pills a day. This gives me five days of not falling down.
I call ALL the pharmacies in Cobourg and Port Hope. Not one of them has betahistine.
Oh, I forgot to mention that in less than two weeks I will be performing the role of Nostradamus in Something Rotten. Nostradamus will not only have to walk, but also sing and dance onstage – in front of audiences. There are ten shows over two weekends.
I feel myself teetering on the edge of my least favourite landmark: The Pit of PTSD. Without warning, I am Sister Mary Lazarus in Sister Act. I wobble my way onstage for my rap solo, and then as soon as I clear the wings, I collapse into the arms of a couple of cast members. I’m lying on the couch in the green room, my director Val, speaking to me in her calm nursing voice, telling me that I have to remember to breathe. I teleport into two previous collapses at rehearsals where I can’t keep my feet under me. EMTs leading me down four flights of stairs from the rehearsal hall when I can’t feel the stair treads beneath my feet and, with every ungrounded step, my stomach threatens to unload its contents onto the hapless EMTs.
In spite of the tears now trickling their way down my cheeks, I roll my shoulders back and start deep breathing.
I am breathing in deep relaxation and breathing out all anxiety. I am breathing in DEEP anxiety—!! No, I’m breathing OUT all anxiety and breathing IN all—
There are other pharmacies. I call Grafton, then Peterborough, then Trenton, then Bowmanville, Courtice and Oshawa.
The tissue box now sits beside me, as I try to calculate the best way to ration my existing ten pills. Do I stop taking the pills immediately and hoard those ten pills and only take a single pill for each of the days when I have to perform? What about withdrawal? Oh my God!
WHAT ABOUT WITHDRAWAL?!?
I madly continue my hunt for pharmacies before discovering that on the Shoppers’ site, you have the option to find out whether your drug is in stock. It shows which pharmacies carry your drugs! This is an amazing resource!!! Which, turns out, is totally full of shit, because as I call these numbers, NOBODY has betahistine!
After another dozen calls and more panicked sobbing, I decide to call the customer service line at Auropharma. This is the pharmaceutical company that makes a generic version of betahistine. The dude that I speak to (apologies to the dude – I am so panicked I forget to ask his name), immediately finds me a pharmacy in Toronto who has it in stock.
I call the pharmacy – who assures me that they’ll contact my local pharmacy to get the script and should be able to fill the prescription within a day. They call back a couple of hours later to tell me that my prescription is ready.
I drive to the Whitby Go station, take the train, then the subway to On Care Pharmacy in Toronto’s Chinatown. I throw open the door and announce, “Hi, I’m Heather, I have a—”
“Oh, you’re here for the betahistine, yes?”
“Yes!!”
