Sometimes, I think my life revolves around pills. I even have a tea mug with a pill theme. I got it in England. It's part of the "Interesting thoughts of Edward Monkton" line. I don't know who Monkton is, but I suspect he and I would get on very well.
"We must take our tablets every day," the mug tells me, "or else we will GO MAD."
That's pretty much what I've been told, by endless doctors. "Take your meds." They don't actually say I'll go mad, but they pause and give me a significant look. Having reassured themselves that I understand the importance of their statement, they then write me a nice prescription and push me out the door.
Being not quite sane, I don't want to take my pills. In fact, I hate them. Still, I recognise their supposed usefulness, and dutifully count them out, morning and night, and pop them into my mouth.
"This one helps me not to scare the Postman." - The Mug.
I have one of those. One that stops the world from scraping against my soul. It's round, and mustard yellow. I take two a day, one in the morning, and one at night. I quite like this one, because it has the lovely dual effect of stopping the horrible migraines I've suffered from since I had encephalitis 20 years ago. Also, I can fell it working, it gives me odd pins-and-needles sensations in my fingers and toes. It's an interactive pill.
"This one is evil and must DIE." - The Mug.
Mine is red-brown, the color of drying blood. A capsule full of tiny white beads. Sometimes, I open it up and pour some of the beads down the sink, imagining that I'm killing it a little. Weakening it. I imagine that I can weaken it more, day by day, until it is empty, and dead. Then I'll be free, and I'll never have to see it's evil color again.
The next day, I don't open it. I swallow it whole. I'm defeated by the Logic of the Pills.
I hate it. I plot again. Tomorrow, it will die.
"I love this one so much it hurts. One day it will understand my Special Powers and Love me too." - The Mug.
The one I love is pure white, a small rectangle, and I have never seen a pill so perfectly formed. This is my anti-allergy pill. I take THIS one with great joy. This wonder has freed me from the horrors of seasonal allergies, and endless sinus infections! How I love it! I will never give it up. NEVER.
"Please don't eat me!"
"Be quiet, tablet, and suffer your FATE!" - The Mug.
I have to be severe with this one. It's small, round and a dingy off-white color. It lacks self-confidence. It cringes in the corner. It's the type of pill that you have to abuse. It's just so very pathetic. Not only that, but it forces me to go for quarterly blood-tests. I feel the urge to crush it before I swallow.
"Sometimes, I hear this one singing in voices so HAUNTING and LYRICAL that a single note can make me WEEP." - The Mug.
I don't have any pills like that, yet. Maybe one day I will. I hope I do, because I'd like to hear the song of the pills. After all this time, and all those pills, I think I deserve it.