Some may say I never needed more sass, some will say I did. But living with nan is certainly increasing it tenfold. That and dying my hair red. I don’t know if it’s the stereotype, or possibly the chemicals in the dye but I certainly feel more empowered and fiery as a redhead.
The topic of my hair colour does have some relevance to today’s post. Which is once again nothing to do with any of the topics on my list. Just life keeps cropping up and throwing new obstacles at us.
A few weeks ago I called the pharmacy line to order Cefalexin for nan. Had to make a point of which one was to be ordered as there is a brand that makes her poorly (shall spare you the details, it’s enough I have to live through it). The lady said she could not guarantee it but would make a note on the system. That week we got the Cefalexin we ordered. Went down to collect again yesterday, and lo and behold they had the wrong one in again. Tried to send me home with it, and maybe the (meek-haha) person I was a few months ago would have taken it and lived with the consequences. But no. Not today. I refuse to make nan suffer any more than she has to. So I kicked up a teeny fuss. This is not the bottle she has. Half an hour it took me to convince the pharmacy that nan is not just fussy, its not the flavour she doesn’t like, it makes her poorly. My nan is not the sort of person who would complain about the flavour of a medicine. Grins and bears it. So after a minor tiff with the pharmacist he told me there was nothing he could do, but would order some in for me to collect tomorrow.
So today I went back to the pharmacy, and they made up the Cefalexin. Told me it was strawberry flavoured. Wonderful I said, but nan doesn’t care about flavour as long as it won’t make her poorly. The pharmacist just looked at me (hindsight tells me it was a shifty look). Curious, I thought, they haven’t given me the box. But no matter I shall take it home and try it. It is not our usual brand, but at least they haven’t given us the one that makes her poorly. Or so I thought, when I got it home I noticed the label had a pink brand mark on it, suspiciously like the brand mark on the box of the one that makes her poorly.
Lo and behold, three doses later and nan is poorly. And I AM LIVID!!!!!!!!!!
Nan now has to put up with being poorly until the pharmacist opens again Monday, and I can unleash my fury upon the halfwits. It’s not as if she can miss the doses as the medicine keeps her kidneys working. But why should she be taking something that makes her feel worse, instead of better?
Why aren’t the professionals listening to me? I live with her and care for her. I may not be a bloody doctor but I know what she needs. Trying to fob me off with changing packaging is unacceptable. Trying to fob nan off because you think she just doesn’t like the flavour, when I have made it quite clear it makes her poorly is not professional.
Gods be with the people at the pharmacy Monday. I am sick of the elderly and ill people who get fobbed off and ignored because they cannot stand up for themselves. I am sick of being treated like a little girl who doesn’t know any better. I am Kirsty, the carer and loving grandaughter and you will rue the day you acted against me. (or something mighty like that). No longer will I squeak like a little mouse, my voice will be heard.
(You may be able to guess I have been reading Game of Thrones, battle speeches galore. Also empowered red-heads)