Hey, Will You Go Get My Meds?

Mooch is on a lot of meds. At least he was when he lived here.

Antidepressants. ADHD meds (no H with him, barely had a pulse but the pills are all or nothing I guess). Blood pressure pills. The works. Anything to make him "better". Anything to make him "want to work".

I'm self-employed and pretty busy. Every 30-31 days, Mooch would call in tears from the office.
"I, I, I ran out of my meds. I have a meeting later, my head is killing me, I can't work, will you go get my meds?"

What the hell was I supposed to do? Have him lose his job because he didn't have his pills? Anyone on these meds knows you can't stop and start them. Every. Damn. Day people. Just like Birth Control pills.

So, I would stop what I was doing or would re-arrange a meeting. Make sure the primary care doctor had a new Rx written for the controlled substances, drive to the doctor's office, sign for the Rx, drive to CVS, wait on the Rx, buy a drink for him sometimes, call him, meet him at the curb of the plant, hand him his pills and the drink. I would get a "thank you, whew that was rough. I'll write down when I need to call that in next month."

30-31 days later, here we go again. Oh wait, sometimes 35 days. He liked to skip pills on the weekend and stay in bed. Productive father of two.

This went on 2-3 years. One day, he called, same routine.

This time I said no. He said, what? But I need it. No more, Mooch. You are a big boy. Figure out to function on your own. Several weeks later, I told him he had a month to move out.

Damn. That felt great. :)
-Stella