heart like a fire alarm + a pulse of tiny, angry wings

Y’know those commercials for prescription drugs for this or that chronic ailment, ads inevitably ending with an “ask your doctor about,” and then promptly launching into a whole litany of horrors (in some patients, shedding of vital organs may occur, etc.)? Those wretched causative unwanteds, plus my own propensity for reacting negatively to, well, just about anything pharmaceutical, have led my wife to jokingly not-so-jokingly refer to me as the King of Rare but Serious Side-Effects.

That said, I just switched today to another in the same class of drugs I’ve been using these last few weeks to poorly control my elevated blood pressure, because the last Rx. had, over the last several days, converted my puffy eyes into aching deserts of muddy-vision dysfunction. And now, me being me, I have a mass of swelling balloons where my brains should be and the inside of my skull festooned in razor wire, with my cramping stomach aflutter with militaristic butterflies launching a campaign to retake the open air.

And still I can’t see worth half a damn …

I seriously want a new biochemistry. And hey, Father’s Day’s coming up, right? Gift idea …

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