I’m sipping my coffee contemplating the busy work day ahead. I’m okay with it. I’m fortunate to have a job I enjoy. I’m grateful for that; I know too well what it feels like to be trapped in some day-to-day grind because the paycheck is necessary and the options are few. I’m sneezing, though – allergies – and not really looking forward to interacting with people all day. Another hot summer day ahead, too, and the AC in the office already sounds like it is “working too hard”, which does not bode well for comfort. Add to that, my pharmacy has still not been able to refill my Ozempic, and now I’m 3 days overdue for a shot that should be done weekly at about the same time each week. On top of simply being annoyed by that, I’m starting to “feel effects” of going without medication that does so much more than provide a little help with weightloss. This medication, for me, successfully manages my blood sugar, my blood pressure, and helps with certain consequences of my brain injury, too (which was unexpected but very much valued and at this point, relied upon). I sigh and drink my coffee – at least I’ve still got coffee in the morning, though I wonder how long that will last?
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The lack of my medication is not likely to become life-threatening (I hope), but I’m angry that the medical needs of real people matter so little, in comparison to profits, or supply chain efficiency, or systems and processes within large corporate hierarchies. (Looking your way, global pharmacy systems, and fuck you for not caring about the people you serve.) Another breath. Another slow steady exhalation. Another attempt at relaxing and letting small shit stay small. It requires practice.
I’m not in a great mood this morning, and I remind myself again (and thank my Traveling Partner for his patient reminders yesterday evening) that this abrupt change in my medication is going to affect things like mood (and mood management) and impulse control, and all sorts of seemingly unrelated “little things” that taken together don’t always feel small at all. Knowing I’ll be “dealing with people” all day, I calm myself with meditation, and a few minutes of quiet reflection on the moment and the day. Things are fine for most values of “fine”, and I’m okay in most practical senses of that word. This will pass.
I did try to arrange to have my prescription filled at a different local pharmacy within the pharmacy chain I generally use, and that looked do-able from the perspective of yesterday. This morning the pharmacy app indictes that my refill remains “delayed” with no expectation that it will be filled before tomorrow at 3 pm – an availability commitment that continues to be pushed back every day. The pharmacist said, yesterday, that they just haven’t been receiving this medication in their orders, in spite of ordering it repeatedly. “It’s not available.” (I wonder if it is the heat? It is a temperature sensitive medication, and degrades quickly once not refridgerated. We’re in the middle of summer heat that comes with a hazard warning, although it isn’t being discussed as a “heat wave”… I could see that potentially stopping shipments of some kind, but g’damn, we’re talking about fucking medication here!)
Another sigh. Another cycle of breath. Another attempt to get my mind (and mood) to move on from this irritation… my results vary. My coffee is tasty, though, and I focus on that pleasant detail, here, now. A breeze tosses the branches of the trees beyond the window, and the lush green leaves flutter and twist. Pretty. There’s a clear blue sky overhead. The morning is already warm. My head aches. My tinnitus is loud. This room is quiet, aside from the woosh of the AC in the background. Breathe, exhale, relax… repeat. I still feel bitchy and cross, and I’d really like very much to complain about… something, but I’m aware that it really could be worse, and that as things go generally it’s fine. I think of my Traveling Partner at home, probably still sleeping, and I smile to myself; just knowing he exists in the world is a thought that fills me with love and delight. I’m fortunate. Perspective.
We can’t necessarily change the circumstances we find ourselves in, but we can change how we react and respond to those circumstances. We can make choices that improve our experience. There’s a lot of power in that. I sit with that thought awhile. How would I respond to these circumstances if I were indeed the woman I most want to be? Can I make that happen, in these circumstances, now? What would that look like? What practices can I count on to get me there? We become what we practice.
…No AI anywhere can help you with that; you’ve got to practice the practices yourself, and do the verbs…
It’s a new day. Another chance to be the woman I most want to be. Another opportunity to live well and treat others with kindness and compassion. Another day to do my best. I make a note on the notepad beside me, a reminder for later. It’s time to begin again.
Evening Light 