Cure for Everything

        I was in a bad way. So my doctor put me on Bluebegone.

        That raised my blood pressure. So she hit me with a prescription for Thinredaline, which
seemed to do the trick. However, soon after, I developed an erectile dysfunction. ‘No problem,’
she said, and she told me about Dixaloft, which proved to be every bit the perfect little blue
nugget of sunshine that she’d purported it to be.

        Unfortunately, the Dixaloft was not without its drawbacks, as it was soon discovered that
I’d begun harboring delusions of grandeur. These, we battled with Bluntalicin, which quickly
proved to have an adverse reaction in combination with my Bluebegone and Thinredaline,
resulting in hives and a serious case of obsessive compulsive disorder. I couldn’t so much as
leave the house in the morning without bathing, from head to toe, a total of six consecutive
times... and that was the least of my neuroses. This led to my switch in favor of Quietol, a
multipurpose psychoactive agent, replacing both the Bluebegone and the Bluntalicin in the ranks
of my ever-widening pharmaceutical arsenal.

        After that, everything went smoothly, for a time. It appeared that we’d arrived at just the
right medicinal cocktail required to set me straight. That is, until it was found that the Dixaloft,
in concert with my Quietol, was beginning to strike me blind.

        Immediately, at my doctor’s request, I jumped ship for Rizenfen. My vision remained
dim, but got no worse as time wore on. I did, however, notice a bit of male pattern balding
becoming apparent.

        A brief internet search brought to my attention a product named Apollo Gold, a ‘proven
pill for hair loss,’ on which ‘9 out of 10 doctors agreed.’ Without pause, I placed an order.
Another pill couldn’t hurt, especially not if ‘9 out of 10 doctors’ could find nothing negative to
say about it. Besides, I was really starting to acquire a taste for the damned things. Pills, I mean.

        The Apollo Gold arrived within a few days. Two weeks later, I arose to find that my hair
had chosen mutiny. It just stayed put on my pillow, thumbing its collective nose at me.

        My doctor told me this was brought on by a clash between the Apollo Gold and every
other medication on which I’d already become dependant. She admonished me, told me I should
have consulted her, first. I agreed. Hell, I even felt sort of foolish and a little bit guilty, like I’d
just been caught masturbating in church.

        She told me not to worry about it, and prescribed me a waxen, honey colored salve called
Phlochumex to re-stimulate my flustered follicles. Each application burned with such intensity,
I’d almost swear that it was seeping through the walls of my skull, scorching my brain, causing it
to expand like a marshmallow in a microwave oven. I figured that simply meant the Phlochumex
was doing what it was supposed to, eventually coming to take a sort of masochistic satisfaction
in the twice-a-day ordeal. ‘No pain, no gain,’ right?

        Three months later, my hair was back. Even better, it was longer, thicker, and more
flowing than ever before. I felt like an Adonis, a gift from God to all the creatures of the Earth.

        But, this exaltation was not to last. On the morning of June 5th, I awoke to a strange
numbness in my gums. I reached my finger in there to probe. I figured it was probably just a
cold sore. At worst, a cavity.

        Next thing I knew, I was rattling a palm full of my own molars like dice. They’d all just
hollowed out and pulled up roots in the night. It all happened very succinctly. There was no
pain. Only loss... and the bitter taste of almonds, something rotten.

        I couldn’t go to work like that. I was just beginning to feel like a human being, again.
What would my secretary think?

        So, I phoned in. Immediately thereafter, I placed a call to my doctor and made an
appointment for that afternoon. Surely, I thought, she could tell me what had happened.

        She’d never seen anything like it. Couldn’t make heads or tails of my condition. ‘You
should really go and see a dentist about this,’ she said.

        But, I didn’t have dental. Hell, I hadn’t suffered so much as a toothache since I was 10. I
never thought I’d need it.

        My mistake. Soon, all my teeth had fallen out. I was reduced to eating pudding, apple
sauce, baby food, and supplemental vitamins. What’s more, I couldn’t drag myself to the office.
I was afraid to show my face, couldn’t even muster the gumption to phone in my absence after
the first few days. I didn’t know how to explain it to them. I...

        I sat on my hands and did nothing. I’d only ever held one job in my entire life. Now,
that life was over. ‘Aw, fuck it’ became my mantra, my three-syllable answer to everything, to
the proposition set forth at the beginning of every day.

        Without employment, my insurance had been kicked out from under me and, with it, the
chemicals which had propped me up for over a year. Immediately, back came the hypertension
and ED. My hair fell out in clumps. They wouldn’t so much as let me past the front desk in
the hospital at which I’d been a patient for as long as I could remember.

        I was a pathetic wreck. Completely hopeless... until it hit me. The ultimate in home
remedies. Sitting on the can last Monday morning, I wrote my own prescription. It was the one
and only moment I could ever claim to have had what you might call a world shaking epiphany.

        Tonight, I paid a visit to my doctor at her home. I wanted to share this with her, in the
name of science. I thought she’d understand, that she’d hold some professional interest.

        Of course, she did, in a sense, but not fully. Not at first. I had to hammer the point home
for her. It drove a beautiful, gaping chasm right through center of her left eye.

        Yes, I’m sure it hurt, but only for a moment. Sometimes a little pain is necessary. It
means that things are changing, that the medicine’s doing its job. As a doctor, I’m sure she
would understand that... wherever she is.

        So, I guess it’s my turn, and that’s just fine. It’s about time I made my way up to that
shining ivory pharmacy in the sky. Just one more pill to swallow and everything will be...

        Too bad I can’t leave a pretty corpse.

        Maybe I should rethink this.

© 2007 Underground Voices