A couple of days ago I drove my mom around on a bunch of errands. When we were halfway through, she asked if I would take her to the pharmacy to get her meds. But I forgot. I didn’t remember until I was ready to leave her house so I suggested we go before I went home. She said never mind, she’d just walk down the next day. I offered several times more, but she kept insisting she would walk so I drove off.
My drive home takes me right past the pharmacy so I decided to stop and pick up her prescription. As I was parking the car, I remembered that my mom had said the pharmacist had given her a hard time about not having identification. He won’t let her have her prescription without it. On several occasions she has had to walk home and then return. She doesn’t carry a purse any more; once a thief broke her finger to steal it.
So when I went into the store I felt a little bit of dread. I was already thinking about what I was going to say.
But when I walked up to the counter, I saw a young Asian man was working there. Suddenly I felt enormous relief and all my apprehension vanished. I told him I was picking up my mom’s prescription, he got it for me, I paid and left. It was that simple. He didn’t ask any questions or even seem to hesitate.
So I was thinking about picking up my own prescriptions, and I don’t think I’ve ever been required to show identification. I’ve picked up other people’s medications several times. I’ve even picked up heavy-duty narcotics and never been questioned.
I have no idea why one pharmacist requires my mother’s identification. He is aware that she walks a little more than a mile to get there. He also recognizes my mother since she has been going there for some time.
However, my relief at seeing the Asian pharmacist tells me that I do know. Because it’s always at the back of my mind.