Sadie Browningstone showed up bright and early for her 8:00 am appointment. There were things to discuss: the dull ache in her lower back; pain in the knuckles; blurry vision; pins and needles; possible side effects.

All of this was written in her notebook — the words painstakingly scrawled by her aching hands on such a cold morning. This office had become her club: a replacement for bingo and dancing at the DAV. Her husband passed two years ago and since she’d found herself in this office with increasing frequency.

She had formed a strong bond with her patient friends. They huddled most mornings around the waiting room television to watch Good Morning America or The View — great conversation starters — they didn’t mind waiting any longer — that was the fun. These appointments kept Sadie going — not the pills. The patients and their patience kept her safe from herself…safe from grief, loneliness.

They could always count on one young, acutely ill patient in their midst. It was all a part of the excitement. The morning was their time — the stuffy noses and coughs could suffer a wait. After all, the greatest generation deserved more than the infrequent senior discount at Denny’s.

And so each morning — just like this one — she went through her list with Dr. Pillzen-Schmidt. Most mornings, they both forgot what they’d discussed the previous week. It was all an exercise. Dr. PS listened and Sadie was heard.

She paid for the side effects — they kept her in the club. She used to collect stamps and rare coins with her husband. The pills were equally an equally stimulating study; they each had a time to be taken — without or without food, dosages coming up and going down.

“Mrs. Browningstone? The doctor will see you now.”

She smiled and waved to her friends. Dr. PS smiled even wider as she held the door.