Tums Junkie

Once my dad scolded me because he thought I’d been eating Rolaides like they were candy. They were Rolos, he just hadn’t fully heard what I’d said.

Now I eat Tums like they are candy. Especially the Berry flavored ones. Not Rolaides, not Maloxx, not Gaviscon, not Tums Smooth - Nope, Tums Ex 750. And don’t be fooled by the EX there is nothing that stops my problems. EX works no better than regular Tums, I just love the Berry flavor.

You’re thinking a Tums junkie, what gives? Well it’s not just Tums. I take Prilosec, when that run is done, I switch Pepcid, then back to Prilocsec, then on to Pepcid AC. Two weeks and what had been working, with a healthy dose of
Tums, quits working by the end of the box. Hence the Tums addiction.

Ducky’s dad died of esophageal cancer. One of my very closest friends has related how her mother can barely talk because of the damage done by Acid Reflux. I don’t want to go there. And because I have a massive sweet tooth (hence big butt syndrome) the Tums regime continues - for life I assume.

I have bottles of Tums, large bottles – the Costco size bottles – stashed everywhere. Truck, desk, purse (smaller size of course,) computer bag, cupboard, and medicine cabinet. I am an equal opportunity Tums enabler, if you need Tums, I’ve got a Tums…or three with your name on it. I even keep an old bottle next to my bed for those middle of the night moments where you suffer through burning indecision, mentally weighing getting up and disrupting sleep more than already fated, or just living through the burning acid in your throat and the damage to be done.

So last night, after 8 Otterpops while reading through my blog list and deciding if I want to blog SYTYCD, I put three Tums on top of the old beside bottle just in case. Why not inside the bottle? Because, if I do get that burning feeling at two am opening the bottle for relief will wake Ducky, who needs to be up at four am. So on top of the bottle works well.

I should have put this in my weird list last week. I CAN NOT, not make my bed. It’s just not going to happen, I am massively OC about this. Have been since childhood. So after brushing on twenty coats of mascara, I get up and make my bed. And put three more Tums next to my bed. Today is no different than any other. But my night table looks just not right. I move the pictures around, the scarf and love box that Psam and Ben made me. Still not quite right. It’s going to be one of those picky days. I go blog.

Light blog day, laundry started, lawn watered, flower baskets watered, broke fast with a pot off coffee, two slices of toast, and three Tums for good measure and I am ready to get dressed for work. Walking back into the bedroom to dress, yes I set the water in my robe and wet head – don’t you? I find my bed in total disarray, as if someone had happy danced with my Goobie (naughty mind, it’s a fluffy Platypus that lays on my bed) and flung pillows and stuffed ducky astray.

WTF?

The realization hits me that what has been missing from my bed side is my old Tums bottle. Plus the three Tums I’d put there just an hour and a half earlier. And damn now that I think of that, the three Tums from last night are gone too, because I’d never taken them.

And if you think this might have been the first time I questioned if I’d put Tums next to the bed, it’s not. I had just thought that I’d been confused, didn’t remember taking them at O dark hundred, or maybe I’d knocked them off the bedstand and they were had become the mid night feast for the unmentionables with eight legs that live behind there. It’s not like the 10 second rule stands with Tums behind the bedstand.

No, it’s Arlo, who happy danced all over my bed flinging Goobie, Ducky, and I’m sure effervesant berry pink slobber everywhere at the joy of three small Tums left by the Tums God.

Is there a twelve step plan for Tums addicted dogs?