UPDATE: Chandler and I figured out what CVS did.  The meds I take come in bottles of 30, prepackaged. My script called for 60 pills.  I got half.  They just gave me the other half today.  Now I know I wasn’t taking it when I wasn’t supposed to be, for sure.  I made half a month’s worth of meds go nearly a full month.  Yikes!

I’d intended to go to Sunday School today.  Now I’m late.

I’m all dressed up.  Nice shirt, dress pants, nice shoes, showered and shaved. 

And yet I’m struggling with the pain of sitting here, also not wanting to go into an environment where I’m compelled to smile and be happy.  Because at this writing, I’m anything but.

As you can tell, I’ve been on a roller coaster of emotions the past few days.  My doctor put me on new meds in mid-June.  The bottle says there were 60 pills in it.  When I opened it, I remember looking in it and saying to myself, “Oh, he said see you in three weeks, so he must have only written that much.”  So for the past four days, I’ve not had the meds.  I can’t get them refilled until Friday.

I know there were days when I didn’t take two of them as prescribed, and there were a couple of days where I forgot to take it all together.  And I ran out 10 days before refill.  None of my other meds have gone at the same rate.  And I know I need to call the pharmacy and tell them they need to do a recount of their inventory, because I’m betting they have more than they should.

And yet, (okay, I’m calling them.)  But I don’t think they open until 10 a.m.  They don’t.

I’m struggling, my friends.  I’m hurting.  Mourning.  Frustrated about the turns in life.  I feel horribly wounded by the loss of a second marriage.  And even though I know it wasn’t a good situation, I miss it nonetheless.  I miss those good times.  I miss having someone, even if they were in a bad mood most of the time, being around.

Please, don’t interpret this as a message that I desire to go back.  I don’t.

But I’m grieving.  You know they say that a divorce is like a death in the family, you just don’t bury a body. And of course, missing meds isn’t helping.

I’ve got to get back onto my exercise program.  I’ve got to get Active.  And I know I’ve got to tread through these sad emotions as well so that I can put them behind me and come on through to the other side.  (Thanks, Jim Morrison.)  The only real medicine for that is time, prayer, more time and lots more prayer.

And I know I need to get up from this chair and go to church.  A place where those in pain should flock to, but it so often seems like it’s just the other way around.




  1. Jim "Genuine" Turner

    Been there Donny. Lifting you up my friend. Picking you up too if needed. Keep your light shining and it will get brighter.

  2. Donny Claxton

    Thanks, Jim. It’s a lonely road to be on, but with each taste of the pain, the sensation has less and less effect.


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