Put a group of gals together, gals whose bodies ache and creak and demand constant TLC, and you get a hodgepodge of iffy medical advice. In dance class, where we stretch and groan and flash the semi-arthritic jazz hands, we split into two camps: The Holistic Types, who believe the body can heal itself. And the Advanced Kvetchers, who believe there's a nice pill for whatever ails you. Which camp do I fall into? I'm so glad you asked, even though something tells me you already know. Before I divulge the answer, let me give you some medical back story. I never met a flower, a tree, a blade of grass that didn't make me sneeze. Growing up, I got allergy shots twice a week. I had my own Ear, Nose and Throat specialist before I hit puberty.
SJG Pharmacy Always Open
Every morning, my mother gave me a yellow spoonful of something so icky, so repugnant, that I'd pretend to swallow it, then spit it out on the black rug in the dining room. Yech. What prompted me to tell you that? Sometimes, I overshare. As a grown up, and I use that term loosely, Googling disturbing medical conditions is a hobby. God forbid I shouldn't be up on the latest life-threatening disease. I like to stay informed. Advanced Kvetcher. That's me. I'm the leader of the pact. In dance class, I'm the Short Jewish Pharmacist. Need an Advil? Hit me up. I got a stash in my handbag. Need a tranquilizer? Yeah, I got that too, in case I need to jump on a plane at a moment's notice. I'm all about disaster preparedness. You need a nail file? A stick of gum? A doctor recommendation? Look no further. I'm here for you.
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