Thus far in life I’ve been blessed with decent health. This is not to say I’ve never suffered an illness or a broken bone. I have, but healing has always been swift, which allowed a quick resumption of life as I’d been living it. Recently, though, I’ve noticed a change. It’s a pulsating headache, which seems to surface and then escalate when watching a news channels on TV. This seemed worth mentioning during a recent visit with my family doctor.
Doc sat quietly, arms folded and nodding his head at times, as I explained the problem. When I’d poured it all out, his response was immediate. “You are not alone,” he said.
Access Denied
Before I could respond, he added, “Lots of folks have related the same thing to me since this Covid-19 problem hit. And it’s getting worse as the presidential election nears.”
“Any suggestions on what I should do?”
“Several things,” he said. “When any headache sets in, take an aspirin. Better yet, to prevent this type of headache in the first place, either mute your TV or leave it off. Next, get out of the house. Take a walk. The best medicine is exercise, fresh air, and sunshine.”
One morning a few days later I felt a headache gearing up. And, yes, the TV was on. As I searched for the mute button on the remote, my wife announced that breakfast was ready. I tossed the remote onto a sofa cushion and headed for the kitchen table. By this time my headache was screaming for attention. No problem. Doc had told me to take an aspirin. I detoured to where we kept this item, but the bottle was empty. This, too, was not a problem, as my wife maintains our pantry with efficiency "Our People" at Wal-Mart can only dream of. I quickly located a replacement bottle of aspirin, but it was attached to a chunk of cardboard and hermetically sealed within a clear plastic bubble.
No amount of twisting, tearing, or chewing would allow entry. Undeterred, I sawed it open with a steak knife. With this mission accomplished, I had a fresh bottle of aspirin in hand; however, in today's sense of the word, the term "bottle" is misleading. In the days of yesteryear bottles were indeed made of glass, but this was not now the case. This container that I'd just freed from its transparent cocoon was plastic. And, despite another round of twisting, tearing, and chewing, I couldn't open it.
Access Denied.
I'm the poster child for the male camp that doesn't care for instructions
My wife leaned across her bowl of cereal, pointed at the cap, and said, "You have to tear that little thingy off first."
How does she know this stuff? I suppressed curiosity and tore off the "little thingy."
With this roadblock eliminated, I continued twisting and prying. Still nothing.
Waving a piece of toast like a baton, she added, "Now you have to press the cap down as you twist."
Someone had lost much sleep designing this wrinkle but pressing down as I twisted was the required move for success. Partial success as taking the cap off simply exposed another barrier, a foil seal, shining like an astronaut's helmet. I dug at it with a thumbnail but press as I might it would not give.
Enough.
I'm the poster child for the male camp that doesn't care for instructions, and my wife was opening her mouth to offer more when I plunged her butter knife through the foil.
Support Canada Free Press
Mission accomplished? Not at all. I had to use a toothpick to dig out a wad of cotton and then entice a cylindrical object from the container. The object's size and shape suggested it was an errant round from a kid's popgun. So how did it make its way into the aspirin container? I took aim at the trashcan, and was about to launch the little missile, when my wife said, "No! That's to absorb moisture."
Shaking out a half-dozen aspirin, I said, "Baby, it took two knives and a pint of sweat to open this thing and you're telling me they're worried about moisture?"
Ignoring my sarcasm, she said, "Your cardiologist said you should only take one aspirin."
I picked up a single aspirin. "This one is to keep my cardiologist happy. The rest of the pile is for the headache I got fighting this stupid thing."
"Well, don't take those; I'll get you some Tylenol."
She did, but the capsules were in a plastic bottle attached to a chunk of cardboard hermetically sealed within a clear plastic bubble.
Remembering what else doc had mentioned, I pushed my cereal bowl away and stood. "Forget it," I said, "I'm going for a walk."
Bob Burdick is the author of The Margaret Ellen, Tread Not on Me, and Stories Along The Way, a short-story collection that won the Royal Palm Book Award.
Thus far in life I’ve been blessed with decent health. This is not to say I’ve never suffered an illness or a broken bone. I have, but healing has always been swift, which allowed a quick resumption of life as I’d been living it. Recently, though, I’ve noticed a change. It’s a pulsating headache, which seems to surface and then escalate when watching a news channels on TV. This seemed worth mentioning during a recent visit with my family doctor.
Doc sat quietly, arms folded and nodding his head at times, as I explained the problem. When I’d poured it all out, his response was immediate. “You are not alone,” he said.
