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Bob Miles entered the store at three o’clock. Why he was here, he couldn’t remember. Cornflakes? Bread? Biscuits?
No. He remembered he was diabetic and couldn’t eat any of those products. Or so the doctor had said. But what did he know? He could have said anything and Bob would have taken his advice. Everyone did. Take this tablet, this pill, you’ll be better in no time.
Or more likely. Get prescribed another pill to combat the side effects of the other pills. That’s what his daughter had told him, and he was now inclined to believe her.
At first, when the doctor prescribed the acid-reflux drug to calm his indigestion, she had gone crazy about its side effects, claiming his doctor was doling out pills like parents dole out sweets at a children’s party. And went on to say that his indigestion wasn’t to do with too much acid in his stomach. But too little. And suggested taking apple cider vinegar instead.
He didn’t believe her.
Five years later, he was on a cocktail of drugs to deal with high cholesterol, arthritis, vertigo and diabetes. A cocktail that varied from month to month depending on the whim of his doctor. A doctor, who his daughter insisted was a fool, and that Bob should find another…
