“Riding along on a carousel, trying to catch up to you. Riding along on a carousel, will I catch up to you? …” “Carousel”, written by Allan Clarke/Tony Hicks/Graham Nash/Don Rathbone, from The Hollies.

“One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small, and the ones that mother gives you don’t do anything at all.” ~~”White Rabbit”, written by Grace Slick from the Jefferson Airplane

When my husband and I moved from the Midwest to the great Northwest in the mid 1980s, we stayed with two close friends for a few weeks, until we found a place of our own.

Our friends were in their 30s, healthy and vital, so we couldn’t understand why they would need the elephantine pill carousel, which claimed a prominent space on their kitchen table. They each swallowed about 30 pills a day, ingesting what seemed like every vitamin and mineral known to mankind. We gaped as they swallowed their pills, one after another, and vowed to do one one-fingered pushups, if that’s what it took, to avoid owning a horseless carousel on our own kitchen table.

Press the fast forward button a couple decades. It’s early morning. The routine is the same: stumble out of bed, catch a passing glance in the bathroom mirror, scream in fright (but there’s an up-side: I remember the Frankenstein video we rented over the weekend is due), shower, trip over the dogs on the way to the kitchen and immediately head to the kitchen cabinet to spin the Wheel Of (mis) Fortune and grab a handful of pills from the pill carousel, which I swore we wouldn’t need until we were old enough to play a hand of cribbage and discuss bygone times with Whistler’s mother.

Round and round goes the carousel. I grab three fish oil pills (to lower cholesterol–never mind controlling the cholesterol by dumping the two scoop hot fudge sundae), a multi vitamin (one needs energy to spin the carousel) a vitamin B6 to keep carpal tunnel syndrome at bay (so I can keep typing these goofy essays) , the Fibercon and Imodium (you don’t want to know), not to mention the six prescription pills I need to just be alive (to keep typing these silly essays).

While I’m doing this, my husband is upstairs, following a similar routine– waking, screaming at the reflection in the mirror, stumbling over enthusiastic dogs and finally winding up at the carousel for his morning spin. He grabs brown pills, white pills, yellow pills and swigs them with some orange juice.

Almost always, one of us, while collecting our pills, will drop one or more on the floor. For some reason, the pill that falls is always the smallest pill, always the prescription pill (costing a million dollars a pop) and it almost always rolls under the stove or under the refrigerator. Sometimes, it will land in front of us on the floor. Then, whoever dropped the pill must ponder the five second rule. You know the rule: If something falls on the floor and you retrieve it in less than five seconds, it’s okay to ingest. (I saw this on a food commercial so it must be true.)

When this happens, we pick it up, dust it off and stare at it for a while. We usually say, “Nah,” and toss it in the trash. (Another day, another million dollar loss.)

Sometimes, when we’re very tired, we’ll start to take a pill until the more observant spouse shrieks, “Stop! That’s the dog’s heartworm pill!” Hey, it never hurts to cover all bases, does it?

I have always been in love with and obsessed with horses. When I was a young girl, my parents would take my sisters and me to Kiddyland–a local amusement park–and I’d immediately make a dash for the carousel. I’d pick the prettiest, most spirited looking horse I could find, close my eyes and pretend the horse was my own, and horsie and I loped to a wonderful adventure, flying across coastal sand and surf on a cool spring day. Since I couldn’t have a horse, I wanted a carousel of my very own.

Now I have one. Be careful what you wish for.

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Jillian Leslie

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  • Jillian Leslie is an incredible angel that has touched the lives of many through her sharing and caring. He life challenge with bouts of surgeries and all types of treatments for her cancers is extraordinary. Her love, compassion and care manifests itself in her wonderful site, Everyday Warriors. Her sense of humor and dignity is a blessed gift for all who visit with her.