An open letter

To the lady with the 'mite' cream script.

Dear sweet elderly three days older than Jesus lady,

I understand now more than ever in the pharmaceutical field that odd, disturbing and at times down right creepy shit is just going to happen. Period. There will be days that TMI is the understatement of the century. There will be times that I will hear someone say something that will make me want to douche my ear holes. Yesterday you won the "Gross Aza The Fuck Out" award. That's no small feat, madam. I hear about rectal ulcerations, "intense" anal itching, green vaginal discharge, and much, much more daily. Yet each day I come back with a smile on my face, holding my composure like a Marine.

Please let me congratulate you on your award. It was truly earned. I'd shake your hand but to be quite honest I'd rather you keep your scabies to yourself. I must say, the best part of our conversation was when you leaned your sweet 90 year old face over the counter and said with your gentle, old lady, well of knowledge smile "The doctor said I've got the infestation cleared up off of my hands pretty well, now we're working on my nipples."

Hon, I have so much respect for you just because of the fact that you've weathered so many years on this planet but I must say, you could have kicked me in the fucking head and gotten a better reaction out of me. No, no, you didn't see that reaction on the outside but trust me, it was there. If you'd looked deep enough into my eyes you would have seen the depth of my horror. That's where the blank (thousand mile) stare and faux smile cemented to my face came from. There are two things I'd like to go over with you so you'll understand where that "I think I just shit myself" look came from...

A/ Infestation. Let's look at that word for a moment. I N F E S T A T I O N. That means there is a colony of creepy crawly creatures residing under your skin.

B/ "Now we're 'working' on my nipples." Well, your 90 year old nipples pretty much speak for themselves. I don't think I, myself could have painted a more vivid picture if I tried.

Bless your heart, dear. May your days be filled with joy, your mite cream be plentiful and here's wishing your nipples (and my brain) a quick and permanent recovery!