There Is Always One More Sinemet - Or Is There?

There’s always one more ...”  I have long subscribed to this adage. There is always one more parking spot, one more AAA battery somewhere in the house, and one more Sinemet.” You may have to circle the parking lot till you're nauseous, rip apart every single remote control  you can commandeer, and as for the Sinemet, well, just keep reading...

Shit...

This adage applies to Sinemet as long as one subscribes to what I call,  “distributed medicating”. This is the practice of keeping a small quantity of Sinemet in virtually every nook and cranny of your daily world. That means a few tabs in most rooms in your house, in your car, your partner’s car, work, in your bicycle bag, your hiking jacket, underneath the sofa cushions, behind the seat of your buddy  Gifford  Falway’s car... You get the idea. Your imagination is the limit.

What follows is a tale of misadventure, of a desperation so gripping, that you may stagger away feeling as if you got a vicarious tug on Blair's dopamine stogie. Be careful before you judge the authors decisions made and actions taken in the final scene. I hope you will agree that one needs to be facing the same consequences in order to understand what decisions you would make.

Scene: A Snowy weekday afternoon, midwinter 2013. Parking lot, Calgary Rowing Club, authors former place of employment. Heading to the parking lot, I am the last one out.

As I took my last few steps to the car a slight stiffening of the legs along with a few stutter steps was all I needed  to know that I was headed for some mannor of  peril. On the trip down I had realized that  I had forgotten my Sinemet ( that pharmaceutical precursor to dopamine that essentially makes fluid (and for some, at times, can  seem like any) movement possible).  

While I was a firm believer in “there is always one more Sinemet”, there is also a reasonable limit to my wishful thinking. My shoulders sunk in the car seat as the realization hit - I was about to begin careening down the backside of the dopamine curve with no means whatsoever to reverse the process unless some Sinemet came into my life pronto.

With no options I was terribly fond of, I thought I should at least give the car one more search. At an almost inaudible level, I heard a voice say, “did you look for it, or did you LOOK for it? I got down on my hands and knees  and immediately a glint of telltale yellow caught my eye - under the driver’s side mat. I peeled the mat up - and there was my solution. My precise dose of three tabs of Sinemet - errr… two piles of powdered Sinemet, and a cracked, dehydrated, sad substitute for a pill. The crushed pills appeared to have been marinating in a solution of road salt and slush. A Slushy with a nice "hit" I reasoned.

I quickly came to the conclusion that I had no shame and there was no doubt whatsoever as to what I was going to do with this "medication". I thought it best at least I should pretend that I had a modicum of shame and pondered the dilemma. I knew there was something like a "five second rule" but wasn't sure if it applied to medication found under the floor mats of your car.

Your turn. What would you have done? Let me refresh your options:

1) Chow down on the yellow powder underneath the floor mat?

2) Call a taxi. (Then endure the hassle of returning later to pick up a vehicle).

3) Call a friend to come to your rescue. (Possibly someone who's never seen you in a "pre-makeup" state.

As you mull the options, Remember that no one will find out your chosen course of action (unless of course you are stupid enough to write about it in your personal blog…)