The Joys of Being Sick in Brooklyn

So yesterday I went to see my Doctor. Bad news. Looks like I've got the Bird Flu. Yikes. It's bad. I'm coughing up feathers here. So she wrote a prescription for some serious Antibiotics (the kind that make you nauseated) and sent me on my way. I made a command decision not to go back to work, where my greatest achievement of the day had been "not drooling." I just wanted to go home, fill the prescription, take the drugs and go to sleep.

I went home to Brooklyn and went to my local Duane Reade. I knew I was in trouble when I went back to the Pharmacy area and Dr. Corey was behind the counter flipping out. Now, Dr. Corey isn't really a doctor; he's just a guy who stands behind the pharmacy counter wearing a white coat dispensing drugs. I suppose he is actually a pharmacist or pharmacist in training. The issue with Dr. Corey is that he looks like he is 17. And also, it's kinda hard to accept someone with a name like "Corey" as an adult, Corey Feldman notwithstanding. So, it always makes me a little nervous to see young people in positions of authority, as in, dispensing prescription drugs, because I think, well, I'm 24 and I'm an idiot ... and everything I remember about 17 year old boys is that they are mega idiots... but I guess it's okay, because Dr. Corey always does right by me and perhaps I'm exagerating; maybe he's 19.

Anyway, today was not a good day because Dr. Corey was going on about how he didn't have time to do the inventory yet and he hasn't even had time to take a lunch break and blah blah blah. I felt for Dr. Corey- I know what it's like to be slammed at work and totally stressed out. Then I dropped off my prescription and Dr. Corey told me it wouldn't be ready for another 3 hours. 3 Hours??? I might have said something, but again, Corey usually does right by me and besides I was too weak to fight. I was totally bummed I wouldn't get to start the drugs and go home and sleep, that I would have to come back in 3 freakin' hours.

So I went to the Tylenol aisle. From there I witnessed another woman try to fill a prescription and get told, 3 hour wait. This woman turned on her heel and started yelling, "Like hell. Three fucking hours. I'm in pain here and you want me to wait three hours while you shitheads behind the counter stand around and do nothing." This wasn't really fair, Dr. Corey was working very hard. Meanwhile, looking at all the different kinds of Tylenol for sale was making me want to kill myself.

Now, I don't know when the last time I bought Tylenol was, it's not my go-to pain reliever. But I wanted to have something in the house that wasn't full of caffeine (like Excedrin Migrane) and would make some effort at controlling my fever. When I got to the Tylenol Aisle, that is essentially what it was- a whole aisle of Tylenol. There was Extra Strength, and Regular Strength (pansies). There was Quick Relase and Controlled Release. There were EZ Gels, Rapid Release gels, Tablets, Geltabs, Caplets and Cool Burst tabs. I shit you not. Now, this is Brooklyn. Our stores are not known for bountiful variety. You can't go to the grocery store and find 12 kinds of breakfast cereals, but there were 12 kinds of Tylenol. I grabbed a bottle that looked cheap but effective and went to pay at the front of the store.

While I was waiting in line to pay, there was one girl standing at her register who wasn't open. The phone rang and she answered it. "Duane Reade... Twinkie? You want to talk to Twinkie? I don' t know anyone who works here named Twinkie, hang on." The girl turned to the girl at the next register and said, "This guy wants to talk to Twinkie. You know who Twinkie is?" The other girl shrugged. The girl got back on the phone, "Hold on, I'll ask the Assistant Manager."

Now seriously, if someone called my place of business and asked to speak to Twinkie, well, I guess first I would ask if they possible meant "Cupcake". But if that person was adamant about talking to Twinkie, and I didn't know who that was, and my friend didn't know who that was, well, that would probably be about the time I hung up the phone. I would not consider that this phone call needed managerial intervetion. But that' s just me. What do I know? I work in Manhattan.