Because I Have No Self Control: I Scratch My Crotch
Whenever I get a little too much sun, a cold or overtired I get a blister on my lip. I like to call it a blister, but sadly the rest of the world calls it Herpes.
So I have this amazing Doctor and I run in sobbing, “My lip is going to explode,” and before I have the sentence complete they’re handing me samples of Valtrex. This is a miracle, I can feel the burning and the lump under the skin slow down within the first few hours, and I’ve got a day’s worth so I can amble into the pharmacy for a refill whenever it suits me.
That was the plan anyhow.
The plan was not for my son to spike a fever Wednesday night. When my son gets a fever I do not sleep. He’s fine, I just have a touch of PTSD from 8 years ago. I spent the day today with Alexander hanging off of me like a scarf. I like it that way. I know he’s breathing.
And that is how I ended up going to CVS at 9.30 at night.
My lip started burning. I can feel the herpes before I can see the herpes, and I really needed that prescription filled quickly.
I went to the drop off line at CVS and told the pharmacist that I needed it in a hurry. He looked at me a little funny, but said, “ten minutes.”
Ten minutes later I’m standing in the pickup line and a very junior pharmacy technician is shuffling his feet and not making eye contact with me. He asked me to see my ID (I’ve never had that happen before) and the red started somewhere under his collar and was making it’s way up his neck.
Stuttering, the young man asked me if I needed a consult. He almost whispered.
And then it dawned on me. He thought I had that herpes. So I did what any classy lady would do.
I scratched my crotch. I grabbed a handful of my jeans and scratched just like my husband does when he’s watching sports, never breaking eye contact.
Oh and I made it all the way out the front door before I burst into laughter.