Pharm-assist BFG’s

Believe it or not, I was once a tall, skinny teenager. Yeah. Back in the 80’s when I ate peanut butter sandwiches and played sports just for the fun of it. Playing sports was so automatic, I could play tennis when I was watching TV, or hit a baseball with one arm while punching my brother. I could sink half court shots while blindfolded. I was like Forrest Gump playing ping pong.

Forest Gump.

I remember the exact moment when I hit my peak physical condition. I was in my Fitness for Life class in my freshman year at college. Our teacher made us do the body fat measurement and I came in at 4%. (A professor would get slapped with a lawsuit so fast for doing that today.) I remember scoffing and laughing to myself when my teacher she said we had to eat healthy or we would eventually gain weight when we got older.

I also remember the moment I regretted scoffing at my professor. It was the very next year, when I was sat down in my missionary apartment and it hurt my stomach. Not my butt. Specifically, my stomach. I mentioned it hurt to my missionary companion, and he offhandedly made a remark. “You’re probably gaining a little weight.” Then my stomach and my ego hurt even more, because that was a definite punch in the gut. The words of my college professor came back and haunted me like Casper the Pretty Rude Ghost.

For most people, that would have been the moment they realized that they should start working out, watching what they ate, and improving their lives. But of course, you know I’m as bitter to the core as the apple Snow White ate, so of course, I didn’t listen at all. I went the opposite direction.

That started the era of GDOBB (the great decline of Bitter Ben). Things started hurting. I already had scoliosis, so that started getting worse, and my knees started hurting because I played horrible basketball well past my prime. Now I don’t even need to play sports in order to achieve pain. All I have to do now is this strenuous thing called sleep. What used to help me get over pain is now my biggest nemesis. My neck, shoulder and knee pain INCREASE after a bad night’s sleep. Is it any wonder I want to stay up all night?

Now, in order to fight against the pain demons, I have to visit another of my favorite nemeses. The doctor. Yesterday, I went to visit the doctors and they made me do my favorite activity, but in my least favorite place to do it.

I had to wait. And wait. And wait. Which I love to do…at home on my couch. I DESPISE waiting for doctors just so I can get a prescription I asked for, but they needed me to come in for.

Which leads me to my main complaint. See how I make you do the same thing I hate? I made you wait forever for me to get to the point. Here it is.

I went to the pharmacist to get my prescription. I usually just go in, the clerk guy gets it for me, and then I leave. But yesterday, when I went to pick it up, I had to speak with the pharmacist about it, because it was new. It was for this really deadly new drug called Ibuprofen. Ever heard of it?

The pharmacist must have thought I was a drug dealer from another planet where Ibuprofen gave you hallucinations. When I spoke to the pharmacist, he asked you if had questions on how to take this new drug.

I started to wonder if anyone has ever had questions about how to take Ibuprofen. Like, how do I get it in my body? Is it a suppository? Do I stick it in my ear? Am I supposed to melt it on the stove before I take it? Do I jam it down my throat with no water? Can I take it with soda or is water the only way I can take it? Am I allowed to use it as a football? Do I just crush it and rub it into my shoulder in order to relieve the pain?

I have so many questions, but not about how to take a pill. I have, um, let’s see, counting on all my fingers…about 48 years of experience of taking Ibuprofen. On the other hand, I have thousands of questions for pharmacists. Mostly this one though. How much do you get paid, because I want to be one. Just for the entertainment. I at least want to wear my invisibility cloak while they ask other people how to take a drug. I can only imagine what kind of 45-minute Q&A sessions they have with customers when they ask that question. I have no doubt that is why they call them pharm-assists. I just…can’t.

In the interest of not being here all day, let’s just move to the BFG’s…

I have…

…so many questions.

I’m trying to hold back all my excitement…

…for the answers to these questions.

I want to go to four years of pharmacy school…

…just so I can ask people, “Do you have a prescription for that?”


…”Can you please not knock over those drugs?”

But people have questions for you too like…

...”What is it like to be a legal drug dealer?”

Or more dad jokes to annoy you like…

…”What kind of Pharm do you assist?

Is this how…

…to take my pills?

Or do I just take…

…a shower in them?

Will this Ibuprofen…

…make me smart like Ron Swanson?

Or make me able to tolerate…

...annoying co-workers like Toby?

Or will they make me handsome…

…like Homer Simpson?

All I know is that I’ve never wanted…

…misinformation more than I do now.

All I know is that from the moment I started the Great Decline, I should have had the realization that I should have gone to Pharmacy school. My life would have been infinitely more interesting and who can resist when someone asks you what you do for a living and you can say, “I’m a drug dealer.” with a straight face.


Bitter Pharm-assister Ben

17 thoughts on “Pharm-assist BFG’s

  1. I went to the pharmacy yesterday and bought some real Sudafed. The girl behind the register got all flustered and asked me with big wide eyes: “Do you promise me you won’t make meth with it?” I looked at her and said, “You know, most people wouldn’t admit to something like that. But, I promiser you, I’m not going to make meth.” The whole thing was hilarious and dumb.


  2. What I really hate is buying Sudafed for my allergies. You do not need a prescription but have to ask the pharmacist for it. They always eye you suspiciously and ask stupid questions to be sure you are not cooking up a batch of meth in the microwave at the senior center.


    • They do NOT like when you inform them that making something FAR WORSE (the guys who thought Chernobyl was a neat idea were scared by it. THAT’s how much worse.) is trivially easy for anyone who can garden and is aware of chemistry, so why bother with something traceable?


  3. Pharmacists really are legal drug dealers. I hadn’t thought of that, but true. I know that around here at the pharmacy I use they don’t stick around long, it’s always someone new. It’s suspicious.


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