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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Life Changing Decisions/Events
- Published: 07/12/2015
Counterfeit Chemistry
Born 1948, F, from Warren, OR, United States.jpg)
Beverly clenched her teeth to keep from crying out and waking James, but a moan escaped her lips nonetheless. The pain was especially intense after her Epogen injection today. Leg cramps, pain, and nausea wracked her body. The doctor said she needed the Epogen in addition to her chemotherapy, yet he had brushed aside her complaints of pain.
She rolled over quietly and reached into the top drawer of the bedside table, fingers searching for the smooth, round bottle promising her relief. She pulled it out slowly to avoid the rattle of the pills in their plastic case.
She pushed down on the top, releasing the lid, and eased two oblong tablets from the vial into her hand. Popping them into her mouth, she grasped the glass at the back of the table and washed the pills down with cool water.
After she recapped the bottle, the anxiety set in. James would be furious if he found out she’d been buying these pills off the Internet from an unknown Canadian web site. But since her doctor wouldn’t authorize enough Vicodin refills, she had no choice. She’d found a site that didn’t require a prescription, and paid them with her credit card.
Beverly glanced over at James’ sleeping form and quietly returned the bottle to the back of the bedside drawer. She dreaded the trip to the clinic for the weekly injections she received to boost her red blood cells and battle her fatigue—the leg cramps and the nausea laid her low for the next three days. Nothing helped. Between the after effects of both the injection and the chemotherapy, she was exhausted and miserable. At least she was saving money by purchasing the Epogen from the same Canadian web site.
She squinted at the iridescent numbers on her bedside clock and groaned. In just a few hours she would drag herself out of bed, put on a smile, and try to be there for her staff and the customers of her restaurant, Tangles.
She knew her employees were worried about her. Sarah, her lead chef, suggested she call her daughter to come home and help with the restaurant so she could rest. But Beverly wouldn’t bother Jessie, who was busy working two jobs and raising her young son alone, a state away. She’d just deal with it on her own. She didn’t want to bother either her boyfriend, James, or her daughter with her health troubles. She wanted them both to see her as the strong capable woman she’d always been.
When her alarm brought her out of an uneasy sleep, Beverly stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Letting the warm water wash over her, she leaned a shoulder against the shower wall, struggling not to let her frustration bring her to tears. But her resolve crumbled, and she hiccuped back a sob as she watched her tears fuse with the water and flow down the drain.
It exasperated Beverly that everything she did now took twice as long. She didn’t even have time to read the newspaper that morning as she rushed to her car, bleary-eyed and already half-an-hour late. If she had, she might have seen the story buried on page eight about a young man from New York who experienced intense pain and seizures from his weekly Epogen injections. The drug had been purchased off the Internet and found to be counterfeit—not only diluted and relabeled, but spoiled due to being improperly stored. He nearly died as a result.
Counterfeit Chemistry(Linda McMann)
Beverly clenched her teeth to keep from crying out and waking James, but a moan escaped her lips nonetheless. The pain was especially intense after her Epogen injection today. Leg cramps, pain, and nausea wracked her body. The doctor said she needed the Epogen in addition to her chemotherapy, yet he had brushed aside her complaints of pain.
She rolled over quietly and reached into the top drawer of the bedside table, fingers searching for the smooth, round bottle promising her relief. She pulled it out slowly to avoid the rattle of the pills in their plastic case.
She pushed down on the top, releasing the lid, and eased two oblong tablets from the vial into her hand. Popping them into her mouth, she grasped the glass at the back of the table and washed the pills down with cool water.
After she recapped the bottle, the anxiety set in. James would be furious if he found out she’d been buying these pills off the Internet from an unknown Canadian web site. But since her doctor wouldn’t authorize enough Vicodin refills, she had no choice. She’d found a site that didn’t require a prescription, and paid them with her credit card.
Beverly glanced over at James’ sleeping form and quietly returned the bottle to the back of the bedside drawer. She dreaded the trip to the clinic for the weekly injections she received to boost her red blood cells and battle her fatigue—the leg cramps and the nausea laid her low for the next three days. Nothing helped. Between the after effects of both the injection and the chemotherapy, she was exhausted and miserable. At least she was saving money by purchasing the Epogen from the same Canadian web site.
She squinted at the iridescent numbers on her bedside clock and groaned. In just a few hours she would drag herself out of bed, put on a smile, and try to be there for her staff and the customers of her restaurant, Tangles.
She knew her employees were worried about her. Sarah, her lead chef, suggested she call her daughter to come home and help with the restaurant so she could rest. But Beverly wouldn’t bother Jessie, who was busy working two jobs and raising her young son alone, a state away. She’d just deal with it on her own. She didn’t want to bother either her boyfriend, James, or her daughter with her health troubles. She wanted them both to see her as the strong capable woman she’d always been.
When her alarm brought her out of an uneasy sleep, Beverly stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Letting the warm water wash over her, she leaned a shoulder against the shower wall, struggling not to let her frustration bring her to tears. But her resolve crumbled, and she hiccuped back a sob as she watched her tears fuse with the water and flow down the drain.
It exasperated Beverly that everything she did now took twice as long. She didn’t even have time to read the newspaper that morning as she rushed to her car, bleary-eyed and already half-an-hour late. If she had, she might have seen the story buried on page eight about a young man from New York who experienced intense pain and seizures from his weekly Epogen injections. The drug had been purchased off the Internet and found to be counterfeit—not only diluted and relabeled, but spoiled due to being improperly stored. He nearly died as a result.
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