A day in the life of a radical pharmacy owner

I accidently clicked on the HomoMojo ad when I doing my daily read of http://www.biggaypicture.com/. I read about the writing contest with mild interest. I do not really consider myself a writer. I began this blog because I wanted to chronicle the experience of opening a new pharmacy. I have also recently become estranged from my best friend and miss having someone to talk to. I decided to enter the contest immediately upon reading the topic. For my regular readers, it is probably obvious why this topic is perfect for me to blog about. For those who have not been reading my blog, I purchased a live-and-work townhome in a planned community in August. I have a small community pharmacy on the first floor. I live with my partner, J, and my son, K, on the second and third floor.

The meaning of home has changed for me over the past 2 years. I used to consider the city I moved to when I was 15 my home. I moved to South Carolina about 5 years ago to complete pharmacy school. I only moved a hour away though. I maintained several friendships there and often spent weekends there. I did not make many friends here as a result. My parents and my sisters also lived there. I continued to attend church there and considered moving back after pharmacy school. Then, I met J.

J chose to do her residency here because she liked the program, and she also liked the city. She was not interested in spending every weekend at someone else's house in a less diverse and interesting place. I started spending less and less time there. Then, we made the huge decision to open a pharmacy. We found this place and signed the contract. I lost contact with many of my friends from church as they had children or moved. My youngest sister decided to make drug addiction her new profession and moved away. My parents moved out of that town. We moved in August. This house is the first place that belongs to J, K, and I.

Home means the location where you live as well as space where you can be yourself. I have felt at home in church, in classes, and at work. I have felt at home at a UU retreat center in North Carolina. I have felt at home in friends' homes. I have lived places that never felt like home. This house/pharmacy serves as the location where I live and the space where I can be myself. It is the home that I have created with J and K.

My home is the place that I practice my profession that I dearly love. I get up in the morning and come downstairs to work. I spend my day providing medication to sick kids and parents. I answer questions about medication combinations and make recommendations of over-the-counter products. I call physicians for refills on medications and insurance companies for patients. I talk to people about their elderly parents and their children with chronic health conditions. I come down at 9 pm after I am closed for the evening to provide pain medicine for a broken tooth. I get to make the ethical decisions whether to lend someone medication to get through the weekend or to not fill a questionable prescription. I can hire my transgendered friend and know that she will not be discriminated against. I carry the morning after pill and any other type of birth control. I also play Scrabble with J and help K with his homework when we are not busy. Some day, it will be the place that I provide flu shots and educate people on how to best manage their diabetes.

My home is the place that I practice one of my favorite hobbies, cooking. I have an open kitchen where people can sit at the counter while I cook. I spend my lunch hour at the grocery store or preparing for the evening meal. I go upstairs for a half hour around 5 pm and start cooking the food while S watches the pharmacy. She calls me if I am needed. I make pancakes from scratch most Saturday mornings before opening the store in my kitchen. I spend 45 minutes after dinner most nights cleaning up and getting ready for the next day. Some nights, I make cookies from scratch because I love the routines of cooking. I store my cookbooks and internet recipes on a shelf above the oven. My kitchen is my home within my home. We invite guest to join us for dinner at least once a week. I love my home and intend to stay here for a long time.