Yesterday, we both scored prescriptions for Paxlovid, the novel anti-viral medication for covid. It used to be that supply of these drugs were so limited and their demand was so high that getting a script would have been impossible. You had to like be president or something. Times change, well mostly. When I spoke to my doctor’s office the medical professional said that she would submit my case to the Wizard, an AI doorman of sorts. I chuckled at this term of art and was reminded of Tooter Turtle from my childhood Saturday morning cartoons, “Help me, Mr. Wizard, I don’t want to have Covid anymore!” Anne’s interview was much more prosaic, and she was granted access on the spot, but she is already seventy and I was only 69.926. I understand that you have to draw the line somewhere. 😉 Eventually though Mr. Wizard incanted, “Drizzle, Drazzle, Druzzle, Drome, time for this one to come home.” and I too was granted access.

However, having access is not the same as having, as I was about to learn. When the call came from our neighborhood Walgreens, I was out the door in a flash. Masked, I approached the pharmacy counter. I picked up my meds without a problem, but when I asked about also getting my wife’s I got a different story. Yes, they had a record of her prescription in their computer, but they were now all out of Paxlovid. I had just gotten their last course. This simply would not do.

On Monday morning, when we both tested for Covid, my test’s line was brighter than the control. Anne’s however was so faint that I could not even see it. That was then, then. Just to shore up her weak Covid case, she began to develop symptoms. Just circumstantial evidence, I am sure. Eventually though her symptoms became worse than mine. So, shutout at the Clayton Walgreens, the inept clerk suggested that I try the Walgreens in Brentwood.

It was rush-hour by then and it was also 102 ºF. I still trundled over there. They too were out of Paxlovid, but they were also incensed that I had been sent to them without even a call ahead to see it they had the drugs. This new clerk and I shared a moment of disgust with the Clayton Walgreens. After calling ahead, she directed me into the city, to the SLU Walgreens. They had what I wanted and after exiting my third drugstore of the afternoon, almost like a sign from God, I heard a thunderclap overhead. The much-needed rain had arrived.