The Pharmacist Strikes Again

Just thought I'd pop in to reassure you that I am not deserting my newly found blog. I am in the process of recovering from my second migrane this week. Life is wonderful. Ha ha.

Perhaps it is a bit misleading to say "the pharmacist strikes again" as that would imply that I have encountered the same (mildly irritating) pharmacist twice in the last week. And whilst I admit to being a little lacking in the brain department on some occasions, I am simply not self-punishing enough to head to the same pharmacist who prescribed me medication which made me very ill. This time, after consultation with a fellow migrane sufferer, I headed to another pharmacist. As I was close to collapse, with somewhat iffy vision and severe nausea, I sent Mr B in to acquire the latest miracle migrane drug, only for Mr B to emerge approximately five minutes later with a questionnaire. Just what I needed given the circumstances. After filling in the questionnaire, I had to go back to visit the pharmacist. The lovely, lovely Mr Pharmacist spent a good five minutes pouring over my completed questionnaire, whilst I did my very best to remain upright and not collapse in a Mrs B shaped heap on the floor (which could have been a little messy, and a bit of an inconvenience to the other people waiting to see Mr P). He then returned with a little tick box chart and my questionnaire to ask me the symptoms of my migrane, which I explained, and which Mr P agreed were in fact migranes. He then proceeded to ask me not once, or twice, but four times (!!) exactly how many migranes I get per month. I explained (all four times) that they don't happen to a pattern, they come in clusters of two or three, usually every three to four months. To which Mr P replied "well, real migrane sufferers tend to get them regularly and in patterns". I wonder, if I am not a "real" migrane sufferer, what does that make me? A pretend sufferer? A casual user? Or perhaps a hypochondriac? Yes, that must be it. I purposely give myself severe headaches, complete with visual disturbances and nausea, just so that I can continue to have pointless (and increasingly frustrating) encounters with pharmacists. Thank you so much for that diagnosis; I feel that my life is now complete.