I take more vitamins than you can shake a stick at. From the looks of my bedside table, you'd think I wasn't long for this world. I'm a good Boomer, on top of all the latest advances, so the folic acid and the multi-vitamin are prescription strength, with very pharmaceutical-looking bottles. It's not a good look for a Boomer, cause it hearkens back to grandma's death bed. What will our kids think? Sure there's the cholesterol medicine, and the thyroid supplement, maybe a blood pressure pill, but they're so tiny they hardly count.
With the advent of old age and what William Shatner's Boston Legal character calls "mad cow disease", I got a very large and uncool pill organizer to help me remember whether I took the daily dose yet or not. Doctor, doctor, can't I just take Aricept prophylactically? Time marches on.
This is really it, isn't it? This isn't pretend. It doesn't matter if the kitchen counter or the bedside table are cluttered with vitamin bottles or death-defying utterly-essential medications. After a certain age, they all suddenly look a little ugly, whatever they are. You tend to hide them.
Back when we were young our jars of exotic vitamins, ginsengs and papaya concoctions were a source of pride. Those were the days! I remember fascinating and highly conspicuous shelves of vitamins and capsule-bound herbs in youthful homes in Santa Barbara, Santa Fe, Key West and Amsterdam. Let's hear it for tropical consciousness! Look at me, I'm hip to kavakava! Now, the jars and bottles have an ever-so-slight look of urgency and desperation. It was ok to cling to youth for awhile. But now, if we're not careful, it looks like we're clinging to life. Not that there's anything wrong with that. We just have to go on doing what we do best: staying cool.
Uh...don't look now, but I'm doing a Google search for hip and nearly invisible pill organizers. Anyone? Anyone?
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