Drugs and the Resurrection

The Girl returned to school today for the first time in three days after going several rounds against this year’s seasonal allergies, they had her against the ropes and after a couple of days of treating her ourselves my husband and I came to grips with the fact that neither one of us has a medical degree or even a certificate in medical billing and decided to get a cut man in the ring- Dr. David Resnick.

Short of the requisite velvet rope and bouncer with Secret Service like earpiece, his waiting room is the hottest spot at Columbia Presbyterian (why is Presbyterian so hard to spell?), especially this time of year. We scheduled the visit three weeks ago to test her for a mango allergy, but: this week’s food allergy was preempted by pollen. The visit lasts about 15 minutes which means the wait time to face time ratio was about 4:1. Usually he’s spends more time with us but the place was jumping with sneezers and wheezers and he had to keep it moving before the waiting room reached its legal capacity. He only had enough time to write her prescriptions for seven medications, one for just about every orifice.

Steroid eye drops- one drop in each eye for times a day for three days.

Non-Steroid eye drops- one drop in each eye twice a day for 30 days.

Flovent-two puffs twice a day for thirty days.

Albuteral – two puffs every four hours as needed.

Zyrtec- one teaspoon in the morning for 30 days.

Nasonex- two sprays in each nostril once a day for 30 days.

Benedryl- one teaspoon before bedtime for 30 days

It was then I decided that in my next life I want to return as a drug company executive and in the same breath cursed God for not making me one now.

I picked up the prescriptions an hour or so later, the lazy pharmacy cashier did a cursory “search” for the prescriptions asked for the spelling of my last name, resumed her half-ass “search” said “They’re not ready yet.” The pharmacist said to the woman, “I filled them, they’re there.” I chimed in “Did you look on the shelf below the other prescriptions?” She says, “Are they in a box?” I was like bitch I don’t know if they’re in a box or in a gunnysack? Do your flipping job- it’s a dang on recession stop acting like it’s 1998. The pharmacist said, “They’re down there.” She spots the bag and was like “Oh.” She rings up the drugs- $105! I nearly fell out. I asked which ones weren’t covered by the insurance? She said they all were. One of the eye drops was $60. Sixty dollars for 10ml of liquid, really? Six dollars a flipping ml- those drops better last until next year. The cashier asked me if I still wanted them- as if that was an option. Have you seen what she looks like without them?

One time I was at Duane Reade and saw a mother in the same situation except her kid’s drops were- $139. There was some overlap in her benefits, so they weren’t covered at the time. She looked at her kid and was like oh, well guess you’ll be blind until Monday, when I get paid, but don’t think about having dinner for the next week. Tsk. Tsk. America. Tsk. Tsk.

So now the girl is in an antihistamine haze, which however has not put a damper on her repeated queries about the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. I want to say Easter’s -over finish your chocolate bunny let’s get passed this, but no I indulge. And I find the more I tell the story the crazier it sounds. Put down your stones, I heretic I am not. But think about it- if we went to a remote island lets say in the middle of the Indian Ocean and were told a tale by the natives about a man who was half-God/ half-mortal, who was killed and disappeared and came back as a spirit, we’d think –cool story- probably no true-but cool. But anyway I feed her insatiable religious curiosity- why because when all else fails- “God will be really mad if you don’t listen to mommy.”

The Girl: So the soldiers nailed Jesus on the cross?
Me: Right

The Girl: Were the soldiers bad?

Me: Well, they were following orders. Sometimes soldiers do bad things but that doesn’t make them bad people because their boss tells them to do something bad.

The Girl: Who was his boss?

Me: Pontius Pilot.

The Girl: Why was he bad?

Me: Because he told them to put Jesus on the cross.

The Girl: Were Jesus’ friends on the cross bad?

Me: No they did bad things but they weren’t bad.

The Girl: Did God take Jesus off the cross?

Me: No. The soldiers did. Then they put him in a cave and put a big rock in front of it.

The Girl: Mary was sad, right?

Me: Yes. Because when she went to see Jesus he wasn’t there.

The Girl: Then Jesus went to Heaven?

Me: Well, yes.

The Girl: I want to go to Heaven. Would you be sad if I went to Heaven?

Me: Yes, if you went before me.

The Girl: Why?

Me: Because I don’t want you to go to Heaven while I’m still alive I will be really sad.

The Girl: When I get bigger I want to go Heaven. Mom was Jesus brown? (Thank you Catholic nursery school for your Aryan iconography)

Me: Yes.

The Girl: Why?

Me: Because the part of the world Jesus is from, the people are brown.

The Girl: Light brown or dark brown?

Me: Dark /light brown.

The Girl: How did God color me brown?

Me: (I thought the drugs were supposed to make you drowsy) With a very small paintbrush.