Sunday, November 27, 2016

Not My Finest Mormon Moment

I hope that when people think of Mormons, they think of someone with a good, moral character.  Today I was not feeling like that at all.  In fact, I told my kids to ignore my behavior because it was just that bad.  

Today I lied, went to the store on a Sunday, and made a drug run.  


Pretty bad, right?

Well, Ryan's brother and his family are up visiting from Utah for the Thanksgiving holiday, and his brother chose this time to get strep throat.  Michael had a fever and has been sleeping most of the last two days.  Ryan offered our family doctor as a possible solution for someone who needed a fair cash price, and might even be able to consult on a weekend.  Our doctor goes above and beyond for his patients.  This is nice for us, but I feel for his wife.

Blair was worried about Michael yesterday when she (and everyone else) was down for Christmas tree shopping.  We offered Dr. Weaver, and this morning via text, Blair thought Michael was desperate enough to need medical attention.  So Ryan sent them Dr. Weaver's phone number, and Michael got a phone consult.  There are no pharmacies where my in-laws live (they have a grocery store, a Mexican grocery store, a gas station, a tiny post office and library, and that's the whole downtown area), so Dr. Weaver sent the prescriptions to our pharmacy.  As soon as I heard that, I called our pharmacy to make sure they saw it ("What?  We got a prescription sent in?  Oh, ok, we'll go check on that.") and since I couldn't very well pass myself off as a Michael, I could pass myself off as his wife. (Strike 1)   In-laws know things like dates of birth.  We played phone tag a couple of times while they found it, figured out how much the cash price would be, and when it would be ready.  Ryan pretended to be Michael over the phone too, and asked if his "brother" could pick it up for him because he wasn't feeling good.  Yes, so long as he knew the right date of birth.  Easy peasy.

So we picked up the medicine, at the store, on Sunday.  (Strike 2)  Then Ryan and I drove to the halfway point between my in-law's town and ours for the medicine drop off.  (Hello drug run.  Strike 3)  Ryan's dad drove Michael down, and as soon as Ryan handed him the bag, Michael was into it.  

Not exactly how I was wanting to spend my afternoon and evening, but oh well.

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