The Tablets

Peninah was the kind of woman who never liked to make a fuss.

If her boss at the grocery store told her she needed to work for an extra hour, she would nod her head and immerse herself in duties that were probably not hers to do. If there were no seats on the bus and a pregnant lady walked in, she would stand up and beckon her to take her seat with a smile. She was always the last to hear the latest stories in the neighbourhood and would easily get lost if a billboard on the highway was replaced with another advert.

“Oh my, I am such a klutz,” she would laugh it off.

She did not mind the peculiar things that happened in her life. At least not in the last two years, when everything changed. Stage 2 breast cancer.

When she collected her medications from the pharmacy that day, she went about her business and did not open the box until she arrived home. The house was candlelit, but she could tell something was not right. It was her name on the sticker, but the colour of the capsules was different. They even felt bigger in her hands. There was a hyphen at the end of the drug name, with the letters “PR” added on.

Her husband was furious. He paced up and down the house, telling her how unacceptable it was for someone to mix up her medications when it was important for her to take them every day. He was already reaching for the door when she reminded him that the pharmacy would be closed by the time they made it to the centre.

She convinced him. “Dr. Quiton gave me a few more tablets of the previous one. I’ll take them, and we’ll sort this out tomorrow morning.”

He settled down quietly at the sound of her soft voice. “Okay. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“No… no, you don’t need to do that, my dear,” she said quickly, because she knew he would cause a scene if he went there. He would not be able to hold himself back. He was a matchstick; with a single strike, he would light up and burn.

She had to explain herself. “It’s closer to my store than yours. I’m sure it was just a mistake, and I can get my tablets in a split second. Besides, I know the one who served me. She’ll be so sorry about it.”

Her husband retreated to the bedroom, throwing his hands aimlessly into the air and lamenting about how people were careless and could not do anything correctly.

She stood at the back of the line at the pharmacy the next morning, holding the pack in her hand. She had rubbed the top part of it with her sweaty palms. She felt ridiculous standing in line, waiting just to point out a mistake that had never happened before. She could see the pharmacists at the counters. She knew all of them by name. She wished Janice, who had served her the previous day, would be there so they could have a quiet word of clarification. No one would know what had happened.

She had once heard that pharmacists could even lose their licences for errors like these, and the thought made her cringe in horror.

Another counter opened up, and she saw Janice appear behind the window. It was a miracle.

Against her nature, she leaped forward and waved at Janice, who gladly beckoned her to come forward.

“Hey, Mrs. Bekra. Nice to see you again,” Janice began, although she could not conceal the surprise in her voice.

Peninah prolonged the small talk, asking about her family, her boyfriend, and when she was planning to get married. She desperately tried to find the words to explain the situation.

In the end, she pushed the pack through the window for Janice to see.

“I think there was a slight mix-up with my drug order yesterday,” she chuckled. “I’m sure you were busy, and you must have had a long list of the same…”

Janice took the box and looked at the labels again, then checked her records. “There is no mix-up, Mrs. Bekra. Your medication was upgraded by Dr. Quiton last week. It must be because your cancer has spread, right?”

The words exploded in her ears. There was a stabbing pain in her belly, and it took all her strength to remain standing. She had met with Dr. Quiton the previous week. They had done some tests and a scan, the usual ones, but she had not been told of any changes to her medication.

Janice realised she must have said something she was not supposed to.

“I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Please ignore what I just said.”

Peninah did not move a muscle.

“I can call Dr. Quiton’s office right now so we can get you an appointment.”

Janice was reaching for the phone, but Peninah raised her hand to stop her.

“I’ll do it myself… thank you, Janice.”

Peninah walked out of the chemist with the pack in her hand. Janice wanted to follow her, but another customer stepped up to the counter as soon as Peninah walked away.

She did not know how long she had been walking, but she found herself at the grocery store where she worked. She sat on one of the park benches and placed the bag on the ground.

Everything started to make sense now. The breathlessness, the strange pain in her hip, the on-and-off headaches.

How had she not noticed it?

Was it all a lie? That when you spread positivity, the world gives back to you in kindness?

She had tried to stay optimistic all this time. Maybe she was a klutz, living in an illusion that had suddenly shattered into a thousand little fragments of her life.