My normal Sunday morning routine includes sorting out my medicines for the week. I have a little faux leather pouch with seven plastic containers each divided into four sections so I can't take the wrong tablets at the wrong time. I hadn't checked during the week that I had all the tablets I needed so I've only been able to make up three days until I get to the chemist to collect the rest. I complain, of course, about all the hassle associated with medication: regular trips to the doctor, making sure all the prescriptions are up to date, going to the chemist and so on.
As I write this I can hear Marilyn in the background discussing this very issue with our friend, Robyn, bemoaning the number of pills they take each day and giving each other recommendations for useful patent medications.
It's all too much ... but, I take a deep breath, pull myself together and think ... all these medications, all this infrastructure is designed to keep me living longer. And it's working. Looking at my family tree, there is not one male listed who has lived longer than I have. That's not bad so, whatever the inconvenience of the pharmaceutical industry, it's worth it.
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