I only do my climbing at Everest

It took nearly ten days of listening to the hacking cough get worse and more frequent before we could convince Ava to get to the doctor.  Her husband was tired of listening to her cough all night long, and those of us who work with her were alarmed with listening to it all day.  She kept refusing to go because she insisted the doctor wouldn’t be able to do anything for it.
 
I finally hauled her butt to a Minute Clinic while we were at work today.  The very same Minute Clinic, in fact, that diagnosed my Strep throat last week.  She whined and complained about it the entire time, but when it was her turn to go in, I shoved her through the door and told the Nurse Practitioner that I’d already diagnosed her on the internet with Legionnaires Disease and I just needed her to confirm and prescribe.
 
I couldn’t hear what was going on in the room, just the pervasive hacking cough and some laughing.  I spent my time reading all the funny greeting cards and buying M&Ms. 
 
When she finally emerged she had four prescriptions in her hand.  Four. 
 
The best part came when we checked out and the pharmacist with three-inch fingernails came over to do the obligatory counseling session.
 
She picked up prescription bottle number one and inspected the label.  “You need to take two of these at exactly 3pm today and then one every day for the next four days at exactly 3pm.”
 
Ava nodded her understanding.
 
“Also, if you experience any swelling of your head you should cease taking the medication.”
 
Ava looked a little alarmed at this instruction.
 
“Don’t worry.  It rarely happens.  BUT IT COULD,” Pharmacist Lady told us with a very severe expression.
 
The pharmacist inspected bottle number two.  “You are not allowed to drive on this medication.  If you do, you’re technically an impaired driver.”
 
I snorted.
 
Ava admitted that she rarely drives so that wouldn’t be a problem.  The woman stared back at us from across the counter. 

“Look,” I told the woman, “it was hard enough getting her here in the first place.  Please don’t terrify her.  
 
Bottle number three was the biggie.  “Are you planning any rock climbing or hiking?”
 
I guffawed and laughed so hard I nearly peed myself.
 
“This is no laughing matter.  This drug can cause serious problems with your Achilles tendon.”
 
Ava didn’t even know where your Achilles tendon is, so I kicked her in the foot so she would feel educated.  “Oh, I don’t think I’ll be doing any rock climbing,” Ava told the woman who did not pick up the irony at all.
 
“Or hiking,” the Pharmacist reiterated.
 
I could hardly contain myself.  I stepped back several feet so as to not spit on the counter while I wheezed to catch my breath.
 
“I don’t see that in my future either,” Ava promised as sincerely as she was able while I continued to make a scene in the background.
 
The Pharmacist went on to discuss the eye drops with as much vigor as the other meds, but my snickering only caused her to give me a very stern look so I backed further away, thus missing much of the dire warning associated with that drug.
 
I wonder what tipped her off to our planned rock climbing excursion.  Maybe it was the pasty white skin or our general appearance that just screamed “outdoorsy type.”  I know all the pear shaped people I’m familiar with are into rock climbing.