Normally when I accidently drop a medicine on the floor, one of my family will hear it land and come quickly to the rescue. No one saw or heard me drop a pill tonight, and instead of asking for help, I tried to pick it up myself.
I don’t say coincidence, but my dropping of pills is always the same two and they never seem to end in causing me troubles: the first is skinny, yet cylinder shaped, and has the smooth outer wax-looking covering making it slippery for my numb fingers; and the second pill, well, it just so happens to be the exact same color as the wooden floor and when it drops–it’s transparent. It’s a daunting task to find this pill, and when I do, it is usually if I tip my head at very awkward angles or the lights suddenly reflect a shiny stud on the floor. I take both these pills twice a day…some days, like today, are just aggravating!
When I dropped the former of the pills this morning, I was alone. I tried with no success to pick it up with my fingers, but after a few minutes, resulted in grabbing a spoon from the drawer and pushing the pill into the middle of the utensil. Pulling myself back into standing position, balancing the pill on the spoon had me feeling as if it was a raw egg. 🙂 The spoon-retrieving-medicine was a success, so when the pill dropped again tonight, I started the same process, except this time first asking Marcia for a spoon. It was then Dad realized what I was doing and came to the rescue.
It must not have been my day for medicine, because shortly after this I set out to refill my day caps for the coming week. When I got to the latter of my two trouble-making pills, I didn’t drop just one…but two, as they slid out of my hands. I did the usual awkward angle head positions and found one, but as I gently swept it closer to me in order to pick it up without falling off my chair, it speeds away and goes back into transparency. It’s then that I let out a disgusted, frustrated: “UGH. Good grief!!” Mom came to the rescue and found both.
I had one more refill, but in this case, the pill is never the problem–the bottle cap is the problem. It is one of those “squeeze the cap on the sides while you turn the bottle,” and I normally don’t bother to try anymore with opening it. I can’t remember the last time I opened a bottle like this normal…it has to be a few years; the atrophy in my thumb muscles played a role in this long before numbness was a problem. My hand format consists of placing the bottle in my left hand–one of the “push here” spots rests against the bone of the thumb that stands out since the atrophy; and the other “push here” spot, I place my pointer/index finger and squeeze as hard as I can, while twisting the bottle with my right hand. It never started to become a major problem until the numbness increased.
Maybe it was my frustration of medicines today, but as I tried to open it, instead of giving up right away, I set out to try something else. I unsuccessfully tried using a pair of needle-nose pliers, but in this attempt I noted that most of my problem was not the “push and twist” of the cap, but my holding the bottle firm in the right hand. So, I found the non-slip rubber jar opener pad in another drawer and just tried again to see if I could open the medicine bottle.
It was not easy, even with the assistance…but after a few more big squeezes and strains, the bottle opened. And I cried. In that moment I felt victorious. I should see the same in life…that even the most difficult days are worth living, because I am held firm in God’s hand.