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Nashwah Azam

Writing Prompt

more than ten million prescription medications are filled incorrectly every year. write about one of them.



A downcast rainy day. The pitter-patter woke me. Lazy, I'm tired. I don't want to get up - it's cold. But I should. I promised I would today. I flip over, dreading the moment I'd dare to pull back the covers and I wouldn't be warm anymore. Gotta face the day. My sister is coming. My niece is coming. You don't want to look disgusting in front of her again, right?


That convinces me. I get up.


The bathroom's cold. My head's fuzzy with a headache. A dulling, thounding white noise rushing through my ears. I take my little bottle, shake, it rattles. POP it open - one small pill. I swallow it dry. A sweet trail stays on my throat - I feel instantly better. A little. I mean that's what they're for right?


Suddenly, my niece is there. Playing on the living room floor. When did I get here? I don't remember getting dressed, or showering. Huh.


"How've you been today?" My sister asks. She's smiling - she's always had a reason to smile.


"I'm good."


"Has the medication been working for you?"


I nod. My niece demands my attention then. She wants to play with my giraffe, my childhood buddy Raffy, who is her favourite member of the family.


"Raffy runs through the forest, and now he's gonna start a YouTube channel with Barbieee..."


"YouTube huh?" I guffaw. "What's his channel gonna be about?"


"Gaming."


"Do you like games? What's your favourite kind of game?"


"CSI: Miami!"


We both laugh - my sister's favourite. My niece suddenly stands.


"I need the toilet."


I show her my bathroom. She closes the door - "cos she's a big girl now!". I go back the room. I'm glad I got out of bed today. I'm glad I made the effort. It's easy to forget this feeling of contentment.


"Mummy can I have some more of these candies when we go home?"


We both turn. I blanch in horror. My niece is holding my little bottle of antidepressants, once full, was now completely empty.


There is a squeal, a scream, a lot of scrambling and running to the car. Traffic, beeping, honking, speeding at the force of light to the emergency room. Waiting in the waiting room. Nail biting. Stop it I tell myself. And guilt, an angry, blistering guilt that burns an acidic hole in my stomach. I wait for ten minutes, then twenty. Every second pounding in my heart.


In the corner of my eye, my sister comes back out. I stand, spitting apologies as fast as I can get them out.


"I'm so sorry, I thought I had put it away but I am so so sorry - "


Incredulously: "Your meds were sugar pills."


Blink. "What?"


"They were sugar pills. Harmless. Apparently it happens, medications are filled incorrectly."


"What the hell?!"


My niece zooms out from behind her.


"SUPER ZAFFY FLYING TO THE RESCUEEEEE EEEEEEEH -"


My sister looks at me, tears in her eyes. "How am I going to sleep tonight?"


 

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