Eventually, we all must learn how to take pills. We’re not dogs, so they can’t (always?) be wrapped in cheese. They probably shouldn’t be shoved to the back of a kid’s throat, either. I don’t remember exactly how, but I remember being very young when my dad taught me how to do it. I remember gagging on pills, and I think he was gentle and encouraging, telling me to slow down and not think about it. “Put it in your mouth, sis; take a sip and swallow.” (I’ll bet I was bribed with Pepsi, a huge treat at the time.) There may have been fits and starts, but eventually, I got it. These days I take a handful of various supplements nightly. When I say handful, I’m talking eight or nine pills. Every evening after dinner, when I pop those pills all at once, I think of Daddy. He’s been gone a very, very long time and yet, obviously, still with me. I am not going to tell you about suppositories. Does anyone do suppositories anymore? I hope not. Certainly not voluntarily.
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