Most people in the world go see our doctor, get the prescriptions that we need, have those prescriptions filled, and waste no time in starting the medicine – before thinking twice or looking at the label. This really is one way to die. While pharmacists are typically proficient at their jobs and extremely careful, they’re only human and because of that they make fatal mistakes once in a while. Even doctors can can make mistakes.

When in the examining room of the office of a doctor, find out from himwhat it is that he’s prescribing for you. Find out the name of the medicine, how much you should be taking of the medicine, the frequency of your prescribed medication, how many pills are going to be in the bottle, how many refills the doctor is giving you for this medicine. along with any subsequent questions that you come up with on your own. After he’s given you your prescription, take a moment to read it – prior to him leaving the room. Make sure that your prescription states the same things he or she told you. If you’re unsure, don’t hesitate to ask, and speak up and ask him to review what’s written. You shouldn’t feel bad about ‘wasting’ his time…the time is what you could end up a lot for.

Once you’re certain that your physician prescribed what he planned to prescribe for you now it’s time to head to the pharmacy. It is always a good idea to get them filled at just one pharmacy. Although the larger pharmacies might be better on the wallet, home town, privately owned pharmacies will often offer better service, even though they usually cost a bit more. These kinds of pharmacists will normally know you better, which is very important.

Have them fill your prescription, and when you go to get it, find out from the pharmacist about how your new medication might interact with the other things that you are taking, including any OTC medicines. Get that medication from the plastic bag! Read its packaging. Open up the bottle and take a look at your pills. Were you given the accurate medicine? Do you have the correct amount? Drive back home and search for the pill on the internet. The website for the drug maker is your best resource for doing this, due to the fact they’re going to have photos of the medication dosages and you can compare what you have with what it is supposed to look like. This is the case even for generic versions of your medicine – go to the manufacturer’s site for generic form.

Keep in mind that you’re human too. If you are on numerous medications, you can easily get them mixed up, and this can be dangerous. You need a foolproof system so that you can keep the pills straight, and so that you know that you’re taking the right medicine at the right time and the right amount. Check things thoroughly before putting that medicine in your nose, ears, eyes, or mouth so you know you’ve got the right medicine, the correct amount and time. If you are talking with a health professional regarding prescription medication mistakes he or she may possibly be sporting urbane scrubs mainly because they are regarded as high quality scrubs within the professional medical community.

          The pain inside Joshua’s head was becoming intolerable.  He had been in Ashbury’s General Infirmary for two days now and, if anything, his symptoms were getting worse. 
         “Nurse” he shouted “Nurse, nurse!” 
         He pressed the emergency alarm button at the side of his bed and looked around frantically in the hope that somebody, somewhere, would hear him and come running.  The ward was only half-full, with the beds to his right and opposite being empty.  In fact, the nearest patient, a man without legs, regularly abandoned his bed in favour of hurtling down the corridors at full speed in his wheelchair.  Apart from that, there was one old gentleman who slept constantly, did not appear to move in his sleep and might well have been dead had his snoring not indicated differently.   
          Joshua had realised that hospital staff were a rare breed.  They only functioned when patients least needed them, or at mealtimes when gruel fit for previous centuries was being served, or in the cold dead of the night when voices and footsteps echoed and the moon cast shadows across the linoleum floor.  It was between one and five in the morning that the nurses were at their most industrious – evidently the preferred time to shine lights into sleeping eyes, take blood pressure, stick needles into unsuspecting flesh and check if the remaining patients had made it through another night.  During the day-time, the doctors were barely ever witnessed and obviously prided themselves in their elusiveness.  
          Although caught up in some living nightmare, Joshua’s anger at the National Health Service was drowned by a fear which was eroding his soul and pushing the blood through his veins.  For months now, he had suffered from migraines which were progressively getting worse, at times he could not focus, at times he lost his balance and he had developed a new and unsavoury habit of being sick in the mornings.  He knew that there was something wrong with him, but what, he dared not even consider. 
          He screamed and cursed until the air around his bed was blue, his voice echoing and bouncing off the white-washed walls.  To his left, rain pitter-pattered heavily against the window, competing with his anguish but failing miserably to match it.  Joshua’s face, slick with perspiration was now red and tear-stained; his blonde hair tousled into mighty disarray because he was grabbing it so often in his discomfort.  Eventually, the pretty but useless nurse ambled over like a dandelion seed on a gentle breeze.
         “The doctor will be with you soon Joshua” she chided condescendingly, a light smile on her delicate lips.  There were obviously parts of her job that she enjoyed. 
          “I don’t need the doctor, I need some pain relief.”  He hurled a crass expletive towards her with as much venom as he could muster, a spray of spittle escaping from his lips. 
          “Joshua, swearing is not going to help you.  You’ve already had the maximum dosage of painkillers.”  She floated gracefully to the end of his bed, glanced at one of his medical records and then looked longingly outside, evidently more interested in the raindrops than in her troubled patient.  
          “Besides,” she said, as her attention returned to the room “the doctor will be here shortly.” 
          “Listen, Florence bloody Nightingale” he said “I need something for the pain!  My head is going to explode.”  Salt water filled his eyes and the young woman before him blurred in and out of his vision.  Partly, he was crying because his headaches were so excruciating; partly because he felt that nobody cared, neither could they help him.  The nice, gentle Joshua known and loved by family and friends was no longer lying in the bed that day; instead a tired, lonely, shell of a man remained.    With his left arm, he swung to his side and knocked the glass jug, sending water cascading down the bed clothes and the ancient side-cabinet, collecting in puddles underneath the bed.  He then made an ill-fated attempt to get out of bed but quickly dissolved into a heap of crumpled medical gown, bed covers and fear. 

          *******

          As Joshua came round, he found himself back in bed with Doctor Patel peering closely into his face. 
         “Joshua, we have the results back from your MRI scan.  We’ve also received your blood test results.”  After closing the curtains around the bed, creating a secluded chamber, the doctor sat down to the right of Joshua and gazed momentarily into Joshua’s turquoise eyes. 
         “I’m afraid it’s bad news.”  The doctor said with a sigh and then, faster than a python with a frozen rat, he revealed that Joshua had an advanced frontal lobe brain tumour. 
          All at once, words, phrases and medical jargon spilled out of Doctor Patel’s mouth – a tsunami of information – but Joshua could not understand half of what was being said.  Eventually, Doctor Patel paused for a breath, a miracle in itself.  Finally the past few months of suffering, sickness and fatigue made sense to Joshua; now he understood why his GP had been quick to refer him to the specialists for every manner of test: eyes, memory, hearing, reflex and muscle strength as well as a whole host of internal and external examinations.  The doctors had been over him like a rash. 
          “How long do I have left Doctor?” Joshua asked as he stared as the liquid sunshine merged into small rivers on the pane of glass.  Surely this diagnosis was just another example of the catastrophic mistakes made these days; he had always been so fit, both mentally and physically.  And at only thirty years old, he was still a young man.  He repeated his question. 
          “How long Doctor?” 
          “Like I said, you have less than one month.”  The doctor’s words echoed in the chambers of Joshua’s heart.
          “I have less than one month – to live?  Are you sure?”
          The Doctor nodded “Yes, we are sure.  The unfortunate news is that things are only going to get worse.”  Doctor Patel smiled sadly as his patient slipped rapidly out of consciousness.           

          *******

          Instead of concentrating on the road ahead, the taxi driver stared at his passenger through the rear-view mirror, convinced that he was carrying an escapee from the local mental health institution.  Still wearing his hospital gown, the man at the back of his car was wide-eyed, his face tear-stained, his complexion as white as the melting snow on the local hills.  Although he liked to talk, the driver knew to leave this man in peace, but regardless his interest was getting the better of him and he chewed thoughtfully on his nails as he tried to find the best way to start up a conversation. 
         After regaining consciousness, Joshua had immediately left Ward 26 at Ashbury’s.  He had no intention of spending another minute there.  If he was going to die, he would rather die at home, in dignity, rather than amongst the living dead in a place where life expectancy was reduced even if you were only a visitor.  He would sooner die surrounded by his books and pictures than in the sterile confines of an institution, where the few people who showed their faces talked in hushed voices and wore deathly masks of indifference, as if the patients had already departed from this world and gone running into the next.  Besides, he needed to get back to Stormy, his beloved dog.  So far, Stormy had been Joshua’s reason for living and he knew that it was only her who could possibly help him through the next couple of weeks. 
           After getting out of the taxi and paying the driver, the driver chuckled and said “You’ll catch your death dressed like that.”  He was referring to the lightly-tanned butt Joshua was revealing through the light-blue gown.  The shower had eased off now and in the distance, a bright rainbow spanned the sky, but it was still cold and although spring was in the air, winter was tenuously holding on for dear life.  Little did the driver know that Joshua had already caught his death and that the robe had nothing to do with it. 
         Joshua eventually got into his house and sighed deeply, standing in the hallway, not quite sure of what to do next.  Everything looked so different to him; the house was like that of a stranger, air cooler than normal, atmosphere like a tomb.  Suddenly Stormy came running from the living room barking and breaking the chilly silence.  Her ritualistic dance heightened as she jumped, squealed, and almost tripped up over her tiny paws in the excitement of having her owner back.  Mrs Jones had been in to feed her for the past few days but Stormy was not used to being apart from Joshua for so long and her joy was palpable.  They both went into the living room and fell onto the couch in a bundle of love and fur.  Stormy’s dinky body writhed and shook as she clambered up on to Joshua’s knee, tongue licking, tail wagging, her cute paws firmly planted at either side of Joshua’s neck as she nuzzled in close to him. 
           “Hey baby girl, I’ve missed you my sweetheart.”  He said lovingly.  “How you doing my little wriggle bum?”  Stormy barked in response to confirm that she was, indeed, doing fine.      Joshua had never known such love prior to getting Stormy and it occurred to him that he would soon be leaving her behind permanently.  She was almost two years old with years ahead of her.  He had always dreaded the day that his adorable cross Jack Russell and Yorkshire terrier passed away but had always presumed that he would be there to ensure that she was able to die in peace and comfort; he had never even considered that he would be the first one to go.  Now this poor, helpless, loving mite would have to deal with the heartbreak of losing Joshua, of not knowing where her master had gone, of possibly thinking that he had just walked out on her.  Joshua hugged Stormy close and let his heartbroken tears fall on to her neck.
           Together they sat on the couch holding one another as close as any human and dog could do.  He could feel her tender heart beating close to his, feel the warmth of her shoulder blades beneath his hand and the softness of her fur.  Through blurred, tear-filled eyes, Joshua glanced at his garden: it looked splendid.  The trees shimmered with life as the sun shone brightly for the first time in days, precipitation reflecting like diamonds on the leaves, flowers tap-dancing together whilst the birds chirped in the fresh air against an azure sky.  He wondered why he had never quite noticed how beautiful his world was until now.  He had spent hours in his garden but rather than appreciate it, he had almost always looked at it as an unfinished task.  His throat tightened as he realised that his view of the garden had been wrong and soon it was going to be lost forever.  In fact, his view of life had been askew. 
           He glanced around his small living room, observing the IKEA furniture that he had built, the laminate flooring that he had laid, the crisp white paintwork that he had only finished months before.  After spending his life helping others he felt that his reward of an early grave was more than unjust.  At some level Joshua had felt almost invincible, his life so real, so good, so uncomplicated, that he had mistakenly believed that death only belonged to strangers.  But even his good deeds, good looks and good intentions could not help him dodge the bullet disguised as a brain tumour.  Evidently, walking the good path and trying to live the good life did not always pay off after all. 
          Normally a gentle, solitary man, Joshua’s unwavering confidence and quiet self-belief were being crushed by his approaching doom.  Standing up quickly and in desperation, Joshua wiped all of his books off the shelves so that they made a big pile of other people’s dreams.  He picked up the carving he had done of an owl and threw it at the large mirror mounted on the wall, the glass smashing into shards of silver and saddened reflections.  Stormy yelped and looked at Joshua in trepidation before giving a confused half-wag of her tail. 
          “It’s just you and me, Sugar Bug.”  Joshua said through his anger. 
           He had decided on the way home in the taxi that he was not going to let his family and friends see him in his agony as he refused to wilt before their eyes.  Although he could not go out fighting, he could at least spare his loved ones from seeing his rapid demise. 

 *******

          Doctor Patel had been right because a week later Joshua’s misery and discomfort had more than quadrupled to what it had been before his prognosis.  Joshua’s usually bright spirit was fading and apathy was rooting itself deeply into his heart and mind.  He constantly felt like he was being tossed on a ferocious and unforgiving wave, unable to find stability or meaning in the world.  The electrifying headaches made him physically sick both day and night now and the intensity of the bright flashing lights blinded him for hours at a time.  It was taking all of his strength to survive the roller-coaster ride of fever, nausea and wild, uncontrollable thoughts.  Anger simmered just beneath the surface at all times, sometimes boiling over with such ferocity that he shook and cursed and broke many of the things that he had once cherished.  Unshaven and dirty, Joshua was gripped with such torment that he was whimpering out loudly, even in his sleep.  There seemed no point in dragging out the inevitable and Joshua wished that death would come quickly. 
          Joshua woke up on the couch with Stormy at his feet and apart from the deluge of water plummeting from the sky, a haunting silence clothed the deep darkness surrounding them both.  A thunderbolt of pain swept through his body like a tsunami against a rocky shore.  Despite the gloom, sharp bursts of electric white light lit up the back of his eyes and, startled, he staggered to his feet, holding his head between his hands. 
           “I’m dying baby girl.”  He whispered through his anguish to Stormy.  “Stormy and Daddy love each other, hey, baby?”  Stormy gazed at him and let out a long, slow whine, her ears back, tail hanging down rigidly between her back legs. 
          Joshua fell down hard on his knees, cursing, crying.  He could feel the room spinning in a vicious circle as nausea pulsated through his veins.
          “God, please” he pleaded “let me die.  Or take this pain away.”  Tears navigated down his face.  “Please.  I can’t take it anymore.  Take this agony away and I will serve you forever!”
          Joshua fell from his knees and crashed onto the laminate flooring.  He did not notice the thunderstorm outside that had appeared almost instantaneously, nor did he see the thrashing, electrifying bolts of lightning that filled the darkened skies.  The sound of the heavy downpour was lost on Joshua as he lay there motionless.

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I’ve changed my mind.  I used to think that Facebook was for the most part, pretty much a time-waster and lots of nonsense.  I haven’t entirely let go of that thought….but I am willing to take a second look at its benefits.

My kids.

Andrew.  This week I found out via facebook that he loves the Daily Nebraskan, he skipped his Spanish class ( I left a comment that said, “Bad idea to be skipping class” and got a response within 30 seconds that said, “I have a high A in there!”).   He and his old high school band are planning a reunion over Spring Break. (Wonder if that means that I need to be laying in a supply of Cherry Coke?)  I also learned that he has an amazing sense of compassion and knows how to appreciate good quality journalism.  http://vimeo.com/8191217

Mary.  I learned that she and her friend MW visited Pet Smart to get some one-on-one time with a cat.  She must have been missing Grumbles.  She didn’t succumb, thankfully to an actual purchase. She had her first OR experience this week and spent the day with a 48 year old scared-to-death-woman who had a breast lumpectomy for a tumor that turned out to be cancerous. The doctor removed it and there were “clean edges”.  She called my daughter her “Guardian Angel”.  On the down side, she botched an attempted IV, but “got back on the bike” the next day and got it on the first try!  I learned that Mary’s friend from high school wants her to go back to the Dominican Republic with her on a mission trip this summer.  And that she is doing a lot of studying.

Kathleen.  I learned that she is enjoying rehearsals for the play, Girls vs Boys that she is stage-managing at The House Theatre in Chicago.  I also learned that she doesn’t use facebook much…not much info to be garnered there.

In many ways, the facebook stuff is sometimes even better than a phone call (keep calling, though, Mary…I love it!)  That’s because facebook, the way my kids use it, is all about the excitement of the moment.  It all has that “I can’t wait to tell you/share with you/ what is utmost in my mind right this minute.  The stuff they are sharing has legs.

It takes the passion of the moment and spills it onto the cyberspace page.