I recently had to refill my birth control prescription, a very normal thing that happens every three months but that almost always goes poorly.
As an important side note, I have been taking the same kind for over five years. It doesn’t give me any unfortunate side effects, other than that it’s probably destroying my organs. But alas, that is the trade-off we must make. It has great reviews from lots of people who have also been convinced to destroy their organs over time. However, the generic version of this birth control does not. It has a 4/10 rating and pages of horrifying stories associated with it. Reviews from people saying they got a severe blood clot and almost died. They became depressed and started harming themselves. They started having bipolar episodes. One woman was very disappointed to find out that the generic version gave her twins. The highest rating is from a girl who said it didn’t affect her, except that she gained ten pounds, feels nauseous all the time, and now has bad skin. Great stuff.
So I go to the pharmacy to pick up the refill. Pharmacy dude says, “Here’s your prescription!” I say, “Can you please read me what brand it is?” because after years of having to do this, I have learned a thing or two. Pharmacy dude reads it aloud. I say, “That’s the generic brand. Do you know when you might have my actual prescription back in stock?” Pharmacy dude goes in the back and stares at the shelves for several minutes. Then he comes back and says, “We’ve never carried that specific brand” to which I respond, “Well that is quite weird because I got that specific brand here just three months ago, and every month before that.”
Pharmacy dude: “Well I can give you this generic version and then you can ask around and see if anyone has your specific brand.”
What an intriguing idea pharmacy dude. Except I know that once you sign over that medication to me, I cannot just go ask another pharmacy for some more, for free. Because insurance. And basic common sense. And pharmacies don’t normally do drug trades.
Except pharmacy dude didn’t seem to be concerned about this, and he insisted on giving me the generic version anyway because I could just “sort it out later.” And then he chuckled and said, “good luck” as he shooed me away. And that is how I ended up with 3 months worth of a pill that is almost destined to kill me.
When I told my boyfriend about this experience, this is how he processed it:
“So basically you went to a restaurant and ordered fried rice, except the restaurant didn’t have fried rice so they gave you gross white rice with soy sauce on it and said ‘this is basically the same thing except it might kill you.’ And they forced you to take it even though you said you didn’t want it. And they said you can take it to another restaurant and the new restaurant will give you the fried rice you want. But you know that if you go to another restaurant that restaurant will say, “We can’t give you fried rice because you already paid for that shitty white rice, that would be crazy and too much rice” so now you’re really stuck.”
And then he laughed and laughed at how clever he was while laying on the floor. And that is why men shouldn’t be in charge of things like giving out birth control or making up metaphors.
Memoirable Moments 