From Chicken Soup for the Soul in Menopause

Feeling Better?

One Saturday, my husband of twenty-eight years looked pitifully at me and moaned, “I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“Because I have a scratchy throat, achy joints, and a little headache.”

“Take some medicine, drink tons of water to flush out your system, and go rest,” I advised.

“You sound like a doctor,” he said with a slight grin. “So, where’s some medicine?”

“Oh, brother,” I rolled my eyes and snapped. “After all these years you don’t know where I keep medicine?”

“I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to think.”

“Go look in the medicine cabinet or on our bedroom dresser.”

The following Friday, we were eating breakfast in the wee hours before he left for work. “I’m still not feeling well,” he sighed between bites of his cereal.

“I thought you were taking some medicine.”

“I have been!”

“Well, what are you taking, sweetie?”

“Every morning, as soon as I get up, I take that medicine on the dresser.”

“And you’re still not feeling better?”

“I sleep like a log, but nothing else.”

“Are you taking the right dosage?”

“It’s dark when I get up. I don’t want to turn on the light and wake you.”

“Well, honey, read the box to make sure you’re taking it right.”

“I didn’t see a box.”

“There should be a box the medicine comes in.”

“There’s no box!”

“Medicine always comes in a box with instructions!”

“I’m just taking those white pills you laid out on the dresser.”

“Which white pills?”

“The ones you have in a basket on the corner.” We stared blankly at each other for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed and his forehead furrowed in thought. A smile broke out on my face.

“Those are my estrogen pills!”

Brenda Nixon

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