Medication Mnemonics

For six months, I studied for my Pharmacy Technician certification. The nerd in me loved the opportunity to swim in the academic lane again. The Virgo in me seized on the opportunity for my job to pay for it.

Throughout all the coursework, nothing challenged me more than having to rote-memorize the details of 600 hundred drugs, which felt more like a thousand drugs. I resented the process. Initially, I only used the digital flashcards to learn the brand/generic name pairing of each drug, mostly ignoring the drug class(es) that appeared on the cards. Yet, the course obligated me to know it all: drug name, both brand and generic, drug classes, indication(s), contraindication(s), and drug form(s).

OK, so fuck all THAT. The only bright spot was creating mnemonics for the drugs. My very first breakthrough mnemonic was: OMG, Al gave Dara herpes. [Generic: Imiquimod; Brand: Aldara; Class: Antiviral; Indication: genital herpes]

So proud of myself, I shared it with several people, regardless of whether they were also studying for their pharm tech certification or not. And, no, I didn’t care that the mnemonic omitted the drug’s contraindication(s) and form(s). After all, I didn’t have to get a 100% to pass.

The challenge then became not memorizing 600 different drugs, but creating 600 fabulous mnemonics such that when I saw either the brand or generic name in a question, I’d recall the corresponding mnemonic to access more information about the drug. To accomplish this daunting task, I used several strategies.

One of the most useful strategies was using the names, even part of the name, capitalized, in a sentence. The name could be used as any part of speech. For example: Pyran Tells the pinworm that she’ll Pin-X that parasite. [Generic: Pyrantel; Brand: Pin-X; Class: Antiparasitic; Indication: pinworm infection]

Other times, I’d use the prefix’s definition to make a memorable sentence: Watery Rox Eskata cerumen. [Generic: Hydrogen peroxide; Brand: Eskata; Class: Cerumenolytic; Indication: Earwax (cerumen) removal]

The most “controversial” mnemonics involved the word “skinheads,” which, in my parlance, stood for “dermatitis, psoriasis and eczema,” three different skin conditions. So much easier to remember that one word represented three conditions than the three conditions themselves. Plus, anytime I mentioned “sin,” I knew it stood for “cin,” “cyn” or “syn.” As in: Fluo’s Sinful steroids Lidexes 3 skinheads. [Generic: Fluocinonide ; Brand: Lidex; Class: Corticosteroid; Indication: Dermatitis; Eczema; Psoriasis]

Some of those skin medications were only used for one or two of those conditions. Instead of remembering “psoriasis,” I used “sorority.” In the place of “eczema,” I used “eggs.” Pim inhibits calcium sorority eggs by putting a Lid on them. [Generic: Pimecrolimus ; Brand: Elidel; Class: Calcineurin inhibitor; Indication: Eczema; Psoriasis]

Although the thought of typing up 600 drugs in a chart seemed tedious, especially since I didn’t execute my brilliant idea as I studied the latest batch of drugs. The creative challenge motivated me. Cold Chics Cry about gout. [Generic: Colchicine ; Brand: Colcrys; Class: Anti-gout; Indication: Gout]

I made several connections that I may not have made otherwise. One class of erectile dysfunction (ED) medications was the previously unmemorable PDE5. Unmemorable until I broke it down to being a “Penis-Deflating-Emergency.” I remembered the number “5” by logically reasoning that men used all five fingers of their hand to masturbate. Genius, right?

One ED med was used also for pulmonary arterial hypertension (PAH). Viagra inhibits Sil’s penis-deflating-emergency, oPAH! [Generic: Sildenafil; Brand: Viagra; Class: PDE5 inhibitor; Indication: ED; PAH]

The cool part was that with consistency, I used the same phrasing with the same drug class and made connections that way. For example, every time I used the phrase “muscles against,” I knew I was talking about an “antimuscarinic.” Oxy Butt muscles against overactive bladders, using Ditro. [Generic: Oxybutynin; Brand: Ditropan; Class: Antimuscarinic; Indication: overactive bladder]

Of course, some of these sentences sound silly. But silly is memorable, which is the entire point. Besides, silly never stopped Dr. Seuss, who creatively invented words to suit his needs. “Two possums set a Cat Aflame, causing inflammation/ pain,” NSAID Diclo. [Generic: Diclofenac potassium; Brand: Cataflam; Class: NSAID; Indication: Inflammation; Pain]

As much work as I put into making these mnemonics, I’m so tempted to use all that creativity into something other than a study exercise and blog post. Not necessarily another book unless it’s a fiction about a pharmacy technician. I’m in no mood to pitch it to an education publisher.

That’s on the back burner for now. The important thing is passing my national exam for my certification where 40% of the questions will test my knowledge on these some of these 600 drugs. After that, I’ll be free.

One more for the road: The Elders Seek a little Leg to help with their MAOI depression. [Generic: Selegiline; Brand: Eldepryl; Class: MAOI; Indication: Depression]

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Due Process, Not D.O.G.E.

Never did I think in my middle-aged-hood that I’d refresh what I’d learned in civics class. Over the years, I’ve learned that “innocent until proven guilty” only applied to the most privileged. Now, I’m relearning that this country really doesn’t have checks and balances despite the three branches of government. Even “due process” is an afterthought for this current executive branch.

The founding fathers would be amazed that a bullying, con-artist billionaire wannabe would blow past what we’ve held to be self-evident all these centuries.

In all the permutations about the second civil war in the U.S., who imagined that it would begin with a billionaire takeover of the White House? I figured that white anger would play a part, but, for once, this has not been primarily against Black people. Even our sole Black president didn’t take the U.S. to such a brink of collapse.

This may be the first time that white anger has worked for people of color. However long that exists since the last thing the powers that be wants is for the 99% to be united. They usually pit poor people of different races against ourselves, so that we’re too distracted to fight the power.

In DOGE’s chainsaw haste to cut out fraud/waste/abuse, both real and mostly imagined, it has mass-fired thousands of people, regardless of race, then quickly rehired those who should have never been on the chopping block due to security and health reasons. But, that’s not the totality of the terminated.

This is the first administration that, instead of boasting about job creation, gleefully celebrates adding thousands to the unemployed list. All for the sake of saving money, which in the end, will cost us more money to take care of people who no longer have the financial means to take care of themselves.

As expected, some of the angry masses have taken to graffiting and blowing up Teslas. Future Tesla owners have changed their minds about buying them, plummeting both sales and stocks. Now the White House and big wig GOP are whoring themselves to entice people to buy those cars, or at least the stock when higher ups in the company have dumped their shares.

Additionally, the GOP are extremely vocal when denouncing domestic terrorism when discussing the graffi/vandalism/bombings of targeted Teslas, but are deafeningly silent about the lack of due process under which DOGE operates.

Granted, two wrongs don’t make a right, but the federal government has to return to fair practices to stop fomenting negative, and sometimes violent reactions among its citizens. Plus, the other two branches must step up.

Some have questioned why one judge can block the executive branch. The easy answer is that the founding fathers set up our country so that one person in the executive branch couldn’t be a dictator.

Apparently, the legislative branch is waiting for more of their own to be elected in less than two years. In the past, midterm elections have been a reliable way to send a message to the White House. Just like during the Orange Menance 1.0 and we elected more women to congress than ever.

I’m praying that we’ll have a democracy still standing to accommodate the election process. Actually, I’m adding that to all the other prayers that I’ve found myself meditating on since 2.0. What would make me feel much better, though, is the return of due process.

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Back to Bragg

Just like that…Bragg is back. But not the old Bragg. The new Bragg. Reminds me of when Coca-Cola changed its formula. But Coke fans liked the old taste better; so, they had to re-introduce the old formula, replacing the “new” formula, but, chronologically speaking, the newest, even though it was the oldest formula, ie, “classic.”

If that seemed convoluted, then I’ve done my job as a writer. After all, this is what politics has become in the States. From one administration to the next, the tearing down or reversing of the previous administration’s doings. In the end, one has to wonder what does it matter.

In the beginning, Ft. Bragg, the largest, fiercest Army base in the U.S., dare I say “the world,” had been officially named after a confederate, slave-owning general. Then, for a hot second, it became Ft. Liberty, naming the base after one of United States’ so-called values.

Now, renamed “Ft. Bragg,” after a soldier who earned medals, actually fighting for freedom, not slavery, which may, down the road, be just the compromise our country deserves. Other bases can follow suit. Just find someone with the same surname who fought/served for the U.S. and rededicate the military base for them instead.

Somehow, I don’t think the trend will catch on. At this point, I’m not even sure if our legacy of democracy will continue. Much less, naming ceremonies.

Nonetheless, many who proudly trained at Ft. Bragg were very happy to have the name restored since it’s a famous military base.

Years ago, I sat in a local movie theatre, watching a new action-movie release with that up-and-coming action star, Bruce Willis, in “Die Hard.” At one point in the movie, Willis’ character famously said that they’d need half of Ft. Bragg. The theatre erupted in cheers. It wasn’t merely the GIs doing all the cheering. Proud to get a shout out in the latest hit movie.

Hopefully, this settles everything. Every time there’s a name change, millions of dollars is spent for the change over of signage alone. The U.S. will need that money in the long run to pay for all the damages D.O.G.E. has wrongfully inflicted upon the American people.

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Make-Up Snow Days: Adult Version

Attending exercise classes after work powers me through the work week. Usually a yoga/stretch or a dance class. I distinguish days of the week by the class I’m taking after work.

So, when the second Southern snow storm blew through and caused me to miss two days’ worth of classes, I scheduled those two classes the following week. Otherwise, I’d lose money for those prepaid classes.

Fortunately, I already had Monday off since I had a doctor’s appointment. I booked two classes that evening.

I thought by not working my desk job that day, I’d perform better in those classes. Turned out, I’m STILL middle-aged. Whether I work my day job or not, taking two classes in a row wears out my bad knee and ankle, which happen to be on the same leg, but I’ve not yet reached the point where I will declare the entire appendage “bad.”

Nothing makes me feel my age like aches and pains. I even had the bonus temporary symptom of my left foot turning inward, a severe-looking pigeon toe, all on its own. I attribute that to nerve strain which, in the past, has always resolved itself over time.

At least I didn’t lose any money. The bottom line is the bottom line. I squeeze every penny until Lincoln screams for emancipation.

I’ll need all the pennies I can save now that the Orange Menace has imposed tariffs on Canada, Mexico and China.

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The Vodka Trick Failed

For the second time this winter, we got a dusting of snow, mixed with a lot of ice. Just enough weather-related mayhem to shut down the place where I exercise. I was so over it, I didn’t even bother to take pictures of the snow this time around, but I liked the look of Mom’s frozen *rubber snake in the breezeway.

[*Side bar: Birds used to love flying through the breezeway and shitting. So, Mom put a rubber snake on either pillar to ward them off. Believe it or not, that has been enough to keep the birds away.]

I’d planned to stay home on Wednesday. I wore a comfy pair of winter pajamas the entire day, only changing out of them once I took a shower after logging out of work.

Since I fully expected to go to dance class the next day, I spent part of my hourlong lunch break scraping off my car. Definitely a much better task to do while the sun shined.

To help the process along, I poured the rest of a nearly empty bottle of cheap vodka onto the driver’s side of the windshield. I’d used that trick before while living in Austin since alcohol melts ice.

I should have scraped that vodka-drenched ice immediately. Instead, I let it set and scraped the other windows. That was enough time for the ice to melt, then refreeze more compacted.

Although I considered that experience a “failure,” nothing is truly a failure if a lesson is learned. What I’d proven to myself is that it’s better to scrape as I pour or else the ice will compact upon refreezing.

Also, whenever I want to get rid of alcohol that I don’t plan to drink or cook with, then I’ll just wait for the next ice storm and defrost my windshield.

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Exhilarating Galentine’s

Finally discovered a wonderful way to celebrate Valentine’s/Galentine’s Day. The best part, I convinced two friends to join me.

Actually, didn’t take much convincing on my part. They seemed ready to cross “indoor skydiving” off their bucket list. Just needed someone, such as myself, to make the arrangements.

We were lucky in two ways that I made reservations a few weeks in advance.

First of all, an employee warned me that participants in an upcoming national indoor skydiving competition would start filling all the slots during a “hell week,” which was around the Saturday we wanted to fly. So, I made reservations early and we had the time slot to ourselves.

Secondly, since we arrived earlier than our 2:30 flight time, we watched one of the competitive teams practice. Although watching was free, I considered that entertainment an added value.

Both of my friends had irrational fears of what could happen, which were somewhat quelled when they saw an eight-year-old girl flying and having a ball.

I shared with them that the first time I skydove, I thought that there would be no net and that a wind turbine with blades rotated below the chamber. Talk about someone who’s watched too many movies.

Like my previous experience, we were taken to a classroom, where among other things, our guide explained the hand signals.

One of my friends became very familiar with the “calm down” hand signal, which looks like the surfer’s “hang tight” hand gesture. During her first flight, she kept flutter kicking her legs as if swimming while flying. By her second flight, she was markedly calmer.

My other friend, who I wasn’t sure would make it, since her busy schedule takes her out of town frequently, caught on the fastest with controlling what her body was doing within the chamber.

My friends made me go first since I was the so-called expert, having flown once before. I was the only one who barrel rolled against the wall. For my first flight, I wound up upside down. For the second flight, I did a half twist against the wall. Although I wasn’t supposed to do any of that, those were the most fun moments of both flights.

Then, came the moment I’d waited for on the third flight. Going all the way to the top. That alone was why I’d wanted to go indoor skydiving again after two and a half years. Unlike the thrill ride of an amusement park drop, floating to the top and back down again didn’t make my stomach flutter. Yet, I still felt exhilarated as joy rides are wont to do.

After all was said and done, one friend joked about returning to do it again the next day and the other wanted to jump out of an actual plane. This would be an expensive form of entertainment to do on a regular basis. As far as jumping out of a perfectly functioning airplane, not for all the money in the world.

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Super Bowl Tax Filing Deadline

Decades ago, I started filing my taxes on Super Bowl Sunday. Even though all the tax forms for various employment were in by January 31st, I usually needed a few weeks to wrap my head around hunkering down to file.

In the morning, or after some morning exercise class, I’d sit with a glass of wine and paper copies of all the tax things with the goal of finishing in time for kickoff. Not because of the game itself, but to have a firm deadline.

This year, with the ease of filing electronically, I finished in less than a hour the day before the Super Bowl. The only thing that gave me a moment of pause during the process was whether Elon and Big Balls would see my filing. Even though a judge had temporarily blocked their access to the sensitive information in the US Treasury Department, who can really tell what this presidential shadow government is going to get away with in the end.

Par for the course, the Super Bowl was a boring, one-sided blow out. The commercials were marginally more entertaining, but the halftime show was spectacular. And polarizing.

If all you wanted to do was sing along with music, then this wasn’t the halftime show for you. However, if you were curious of why the NFL choose a Pultizer-prize winning hip-hop artist to perform, then you were captivated.

The opening drone shot of the game-controller markings on the performance space, clued the viewer that another game besides football was about to be played. The metaphor extended from Kendrick Lamar’s personal life to life in the States, or even bigger, the game of life itself.

Zoom in to Samuel L. Jackson introducing himself as “Uncle Sam,” complete with the iconic, patriotic red, white and blue attire. Throughout the musical performance and sleek choreography, which morphed into different, stylishly on-beat, visual configurations, Jackson maintained the narrative thread, reminiscent of an older West African archetype, a griot.

Griots, traditional West African travelling poets/musicians, tell historical stories. Like everything transported from the motherland into a foreign land, the role evolved to fit within the confines of 13-minute halftime show. Nonetheless, its inclusion served as a reminder that our history didn’t begin with slavery. Our ancestors had traditions, culture and all the accoutrements of a civilized society very different from their African American diaspora.

Jackson played counterpoint to Lamar, cautioning the younger Black man to “play the game” conservatively by unfolding a story that aligned with the dominate narrative. Lamar did his own thing, which set up, what my English teachers called a “foil.” Mom calls it “being contrary.”

Whatever it’s called, Jackson’s character contrasted with Lamar’s character, highlighting the positions of two political views: the conservative and the revolutionary. In case anyone missed that point, Lamar even announced that the revolution would be televised.

For many, the pinnacle of the show was when Lamar performed his most controversial song in which he accused another rapper of being both a colonizer and a pedophile. As if that wasn’t controversial enough, there’s an ongoing legal battle over that song.

Another battle continued after the halftime show. The angriest people who “didn’t get it” felt entitled to do so. None of that “getting comfortable in their discomfort” or looking up any lyrics they couldn’t hear/understand. They wanted to sing along with songs they already knew, not learn something new.

During a time when DEI initiatives are ending at the federal level and pressured to end in business settings, the entire show was performed by people of color. That, in and of itself, was not the problem.

In the not-so-distant past, minstrel shows had white actors in black face, depicting racial stereotypes, which white audiences found amusing. Actual Black faces confidently playing the game by their own rules with their own jokes was another thing entirely.

However, not everyone was alienated by that. After 50 years of hip-hop, many of us grew up on the genre. Skin tone alone no longer predicts whether a person enjoys hip-hop among the younger generations.

Therein lies the real battle between those who want to return to some alleged idyllic time in the past and those who weren’t alive back then. No one in the history of the world has ever managed to unring the bell of change. As tightly as some cling to the past, the present slips from their fingers.

In the weeks leading up to the Super Bowl, whenever anyone would ask who I was rooting for or who I predicted would win, my answer was the same: Kendrick Lamar. I was right.

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Survival Skills 101: Axe Throwing

I’d been looking forward to this event for weeks. So, when the Meetup host cancelled the event the day before, I didn’t miss a beat. I called the venue. Turns out, I didn’t need a reservation and the price was the same, regardless of whether I was part of a group or solo.

I showed up at the same time I was planning to meet the group. The GM had just opened the place and I was the only one there, which suited me just fine.

After welcoming me and showing me the Rage Room, full of broken things, he asked me to scan a QR code and fill out the waiver. After selling me a Gatorade (he said the “flavors” were “red, orange and blue”), he then escorted me to the A section.

Although he stated that I could throw with one or two hands, I found both hands to be the most comfortable while taking a step with my non dominant foot. I could have also stood behind the red line and thrown an axe without walking into it, a type of granny shot. That felt unnatural.

After a few misses, he coached me to throw a bit harder and the very next throw landed on the target.

For some odd reason, he asked me if I wanted to keep track of my points. I laughed and told him no. Some people compete against themselves for the highest score. Perhaps one day, that’ll be a goal of mine if I take to the game.

I threw at the other target whenever the main one I was using became littered with fallen axes.

Despite becoming more comfortable with the throwing motion, including the grip, I was inconsistent. I could land three axes in a row and bounce the next four. One axe would land close to the bullseye, then nowhere near the painted target.

One thing I knew for sure, I wasn’t leaving until I’d hit the bullseye. Or until he tapped me on the shoulder, telling me that my time was up. I never quite figured out how to aim, but I felt when the axe flew out of my hands incorrectly.

I surprised myself when the axe finally landed on the bullseye. I rang the bell near my lane, strutted to the check-in counter/bar and told him I was done. He told me that I had 13 minutes remaining. Again, I laughed, telling him that I had gotten my money’s worth.

Before I left, I took a picture of the GM’s jeep and my car. Only one of them looked like it was meant to be in the parking lot of such an establishment.

Here’s a clip of the GM coaching me how to throw an axe:

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Only for Snow Bunnies

I knew this day would come. Enough snow dropped to cancel my plans for Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, but since I telecommute, I missed nary a day from work. In the long run, that’s a good thing since I’d much rather use my PTO for actual vacation and appointments.

I’m so used to exercising that missing two days in a row felt like much longer than that. At least I enjoyed working on a long-term digital illustration project. I finished the latest one and started the next. About the only silver lining for being snowed in.

At this rate, it’ll take me several years more to complete this project. After all, the better I get at making the illustrations look better, the more time it takes to complete them. Nonetheless, worth it.

I have this dream that as soon as I finishing studying for my pharmacy tech license, I’ll have more time to work on those remaining illustrations. In reality, smaller creative projects always present themselves such as my occasional podcast episodes and my desire to make short films. Especially animation.

On the horizon, I’m going to be the sound effects tech for a play that one of my cousins has written for our family reunion in June. I’m sure that the closer we get to the performance, there will be more of a time commitment.

Then, once I return from my trip-of-a-lifetime to Ghana at the end of July, I’ll be preoccupied with capturing that experience in a series of creative products. Probably all digital since I don’t have patience with handicrafts these days.

Not that I’m really complaining. Juggling creative projects is the primary reason I’m seldom bored. My only stoppers are not having “enough” time and money. As usual and yet, I continue enjoying an interesting life.

Actually, it could be worse. I could be one of the laid-off employees who work in DEI or have prosecuted the insurrections or the president. Those politically affected people have more time on their hands and no job security. May they do something positive and creative. Amen.

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2025 MLK DAY: Embracing Joy

For the past few decades, I’d signed off on every email with “Cheers.” This year, I set the intention for the year. Embrace Joy.

There are those who believe that EVERYTHING that happens in one’s life is a choice. That position is as unrealistic as NOTHING is a choice. Between being omnipotent and a perpetual victim, I have made “embrace joy” my motto/affirmation/mediation/fight chant, which I also use as a closing line in all my correspondence. Not just to remind myself, but also to make a gentle suggestion to the recipient.

With the “embrace joy” mindset, I participated in a virtual orientation the day before MLK’s observed birthday for an upcoming two-week trip to Ghana in July. About a third of the travel group will be extended family members.

On the MLK holiday, I started off with waffles and bacon for Dad and me, our special holiday breakfast. Then, since I had the day off, I studied my Pharmacy Tech coursework, which I’d begun mid-September last year and am projected to complete mid-March of this year. Next, I ran a few errands, including getting two passport photos for the Ghana trip.

Looking at February, I will cross another bucket-list item off: axe throwing. Two weeks later, I’ll revisit another activity that I enjoyed for the first time three years ago: indoor skydiving. This time around, I’ll soar to the highest heights instead of just six feet above ground.

As the year unfolds, I will continue doing those things that bring me joy. Especially since I think the peaceful transfer of power has been a concession to the most evil-minded oligarchs who have ruled the States during my lifetime. Time will tell how much is paranoia and how much is foreshadowing.

Nonetheless, if there is a positive pathway through the chaos, which may set barriers in the way for those in my demographic, I will be among those who dare to believe and act that I still have viable choices to make.

Contrasting chaotic choices, the president pardoned all of the insurrectionists, among many other ominous executive orders, bringing us further into the land of Gotham.

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