*Edited: If you TRULY want the TOTAL experience of the minutiae you are about to read, then start with the post BELOW this one.*
So the helpful if not happy pharmacist at Wal-Mart took the $50 inhaler chamber back. . .and then I went to Walgreens. . .and sat in the drive-thru line for so long that I finally picked up the glow top that Sick Child 2 had received as a treat for memorizing her latest chapter in Psalms, and began to spin it in the cup holder out of sheer and complete boredom. It was also at this time that I pondered my own sanity and then remembered that I am, indeed, sane, and that neither of my children has anything horrible (too many sites here to link to–but you know what I mean), so what’s a little waiting and top spinning compared with, say, leukemia? Nothing at all.
At this point, I spun the top so perfectly that is just kept going and going and going and going as though the Energizer Bunny had control of it. I was almost sad to have to pull up in line–it spun for like 3 minutes.
Then Susan the Helpful Pharmacist’s Assistant said, “May I help you?” and thus our relationship began. . .because they were OUT of the inhaler chamber that I was supposed to get even though I had CALLED to make sure they had it–they do, indeed, CARRY it, but they did not currently HAVE one. So Susan, seeing my panic and noticing the skin beginning to peel back from my skull said, “Give me one minute.” Then she typy-type-typed on her computer probably thinking, “Oh my great heavenly days this woman’s skull is going to explode if I don’t do something immediately if not sooner.” Then she said, while averting her eyes, “I HATE to ask you to do this, but could you circle around?” She was probably contemplating escape through the fire exit.
Once I “circled around” I waited and waited and waited–and then The Pharmacist gave me and inhaler chamber–but not the cough syrup. So I asked for that too–then I said, “What is your assistant’s name?” and The Pharmacist glanced nervously at me, then glanced at Susan, then said, “Her?” and I said, “Yes.” and she said “Susan.” and I said, “Please, tell Susan I said ‘Thank you so much for being incredibly helpful.'” At which point she did and Susan looked at me–with my skin and skull intact and smiled and waved as I smiled back and mouthed “Thank You” through the glass that Susan will probably check later to make sure it is bullet and splitting skull proof.