Reading the patient information may be hazardous to your health - at least your mental health.

I'm one of those people that reads the fine print on everything, including (especially!) the tissue paper thin inserts titled Patient Information and stuffed into the perscription bag. I even look at the chemical composition drawing, though I don't fully understand it. I read what the medication did in studies of rats and cats and how it works. That part is called Clinical Pharmacology. In the case of the new medication I'm taking, nobody knows how it works. "The precise mechanism(s) through which modafinil promotes wakefulness is unknown" It doesn't sound like the not-so-precise mechanisms are known either.

This is not comforting.....

In the part of the leaflet the writer really expects you to read, the part where the print is large enough the the average person can see it and the language is kept simple it says "Modafinil is a controlled substance" and "Some effects of modafinil on the brain are similar to other medications called stimulants"

Fabulous.

Then in the really fine print, "...modafinil produces psychoactive and euphoric effects, alterations in mood, perception, thinking and feeling typical of other CNS (Central Nervous System) stimulants....Modafinil is reinforcing, as evidenced by its self administration in monkeys previously trained to self administer cocaine"

It is evidence of my trust in Dr. Doglover that I took even one of these pills, let alone took the stuff for almost a week. I'm not sure it's helping my fatigue. But at least I haven't, so far, been swinging from the dining room light fixture with the parrot on my head.

Though just to keep The Hub on his toes I've been calling it "crack".

Oh, come on. Where's your sense of humor? It's not like I'm about to crush the pills and snort them up my nose. At least, not today.

The Hub: "Hold on Winston, I'll feed you in a minute. Get your nose off the table! Now you've got syrup on your ears." ( The dog sits up and looks indignant) "Well you did it! All right, I might as well give you the plate. I swear, I can't believe this is my life! You know, Dad was right. I could have been an engineer....."

Me: "Is my crack under the newspaper you're reading?"

The Hub: "....made good money, traveled all over the world, lived overseas...."

Me: "Oh crap, I think the parrot just scotch taped herself to the back of the chair"

The Hub: "....married a sorority girl, built one of those big houses with the pillars in front..."

Winston (his nose in the plate of waffle leftovers The Hub has given him) "Snork...snarf, snort, snort, snort....snuffle)

The Hub: "...who didn't believe in animals in the house...."

Me: "Who'd be serious when she asked if you'd seen her drugs, and wanted you to support her and three kids in the lifestyle to which she was acustomed."

Kendi The Parrot (holding up her talon with a piece of scotch tape on it) "Awk! Screech!"

The Hub: "But NO. I had to take that other major which lead me to an unhappy corporate job...."

Me: "Hold still, K-Bird."

The Hub: "...and now I'm a self employed handyman with a 200 pound dog and a wife who is going to ask me how to get scotch tape off of bird feathers."

Me: "I am not. She didn't get it on her feathers. It was just on her feet. It came right off. See?"

Kendi: "Peek-a-Bird!"

The Hub: Unintelligable noise followed by a head shake. Then mildly: "Oh, here's your crack. It's under the sports page."

We spend most of our lives in plan B. I guess we'd better get used to it.