WHAM! WHAM! WHAM ! Vocalizations of rage followed.
I looked up from my tablet from which was was reading John Grisham’s latest book, Sycamore Row. “Uh oh.” I said aloud. “This can’t be good.” I scooted from my room and wheeled into the kitchen. There was an animal in there that looked quite a bit like my wife, but this beast was red faced angry, had barred teeth and a wild and feral appearance. It was armed with a cast iron skillet and was laying waste to a seemingly armored pill bottle on the counter.
“I hate this!” growled me wife. “All I want is some aspirin for my hands but I can’t get the top off of this damn pill bottle.”
“Hang on,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” I went to my bathroom and fetched a fancy set of toe nail clippers I’d bought some time ago. I rarely used them on my nails, instead using them for a variety of tasks. They were shaped like a pair of dikes, diagonal wire cutters, except they had thinner and sharper blades. Plus, they were smaller than wire cutters. I grabbed them and returned to the kitchen where my wife was getting ready to slam the plastic aspiring bottle again.
I picked up the offending container and shoved the point of one of the clipper blades under the lip of the cap. A snip and then a repeat of the action created a split in the outer rim of the “child proof” cap. I made about six of these splits, working my way around the lid. When I was done, the cap looked a little like a tutu you’d see on a dancing poodle. I was able to then lift off the outer cap which I chucked into the garbage can. I handed my wife a pill bottle that now sported a regular twist off cap. She opened it with ease and shook out a pair of tablets and swallowed them with water.
I’d been entreating pill bottles that way ever since I got peripheral neuropathy in my hands. The pain I felt was fierce and there was no way on God’s green earth I could get at the medications inside the insidiously capped pill vials without an agonizing process. My wife, who suffers from arthritis which has gnarled her once sturdy hands, suffered the same indignity of being foiled by these stupid damn lids.
I know all about how little children poison themselves with frightening regularity as they sample the edibility and potability of all sorts of solids and fluids they find in their exploration of the new world. I happen to believe that a high cupboard with an adult accommodating yet child defeating latch is more than enough to protect the precious little offspring. It is not necessary to make so-called child-protective bottle caps which defeat the access of those who need the medications within precisely because they cannot manipulate these hellish bottle caps. At times, in my agonized frustration, I have figured that if a kid is so self destructive as to locate, climb and orally sample the unknown contents of things placed beyond their reach that they have subjected themselves to Dawinian extinction. Of course, I don’t really believe that –except when as my wife just was, relief is so close yet so distant because some jackass designed the perfect way to kill off the disabled. Frustrate them into cardiac arrest or stroke.
Since I discovered how well my little tool worked to turn denial of service into relieving victory, I have happily clipped away the offensive child protection of every bottle and vial I find, regardless of its content. After all, I secured these items to use what they contained, and by God I’m going to get at what I acquired and not suffer to do so.
For a while, the pharmacy at the VA was dispensing medication in reversible capped bottles. You had to push-grip-turn-wrench-scream just once and then could flip the cap over and from then on have access the way the good Lord invented bottles: with an easily removed cap. But in its infinite wisdom and attempts to make sure that those of us in childless homes were protected against burgling infants who broke into our home just so they could poison themselves and thus open the possibility of a lawsuit (against the VA), the discontinued those compromise caps in favor of the frustrating, contemptible, torturous, asinine and ridiculous relief deferring bottle caps. Since then, I have been making the containers see it my way, giggling fiendishly as I do so in hopes the process is an agonizing one for the plastic which allowed itself to be turned into such a formidable weapon against the sick and lame.
The world is not made of Nerf, and I personally believe that our societal attempts to defeat Darwinism by creating a safe and welcoming path for the common-sense deprived is one of the reasons our society faces many of the challenges it does. There are just too damn many stupid people out there. You see them everywhere, especially on the news channels. Unfortunately, some behind the scenes agreement was made with the media in smoke clouded darkened rooms to twist stories from “Look what this jackass did” into tomes applauding some retarded new move. Like testing spaghetti for doneness by tossing strands against the wall, some of it is bound to stick and I think that’s what’s happened with news. We have come, by saturation alone, to believe that the incredibly dumb things being done to “keep us safe” are actually doing that, when in fact they are ringing in the death knell of humankind as we know it. It makes me thing of C.M. Kornbluth’s Marching Morons. For those who don’t recognize it, the book is a very accurate history of America during the last decade –including, perhaps more plaintively, now. If you really want to know what’s happening, shut off Fox and MSNBC and read Kornbluth. It’s an eye opened with tons of easily recognized personalities appearing in today’s “news.”
At any rate, for the others out there who face the damnation of the medication bottle caps, perhaps this will be instructive and helpful. Please note that the remaining caps seal the bottles perfectly, and in no way have negative effect on the product. The only danger is the occasional ambient toddler explorer, and in a them or me situation, I vote me.