I can't do this… There’s no way… Reluctantly thinking back on the lie they told us as a kid that you could do anything you put your mind to. Well, I'd come to the realization that I couldn't. I couldn't stop her pain, and as a Pharmacist that's my job, but as I remembered the way she talked to me, I realized that the abuse from her husband was more than just a physical suffering, it was an emotional torment.

She’d told me over a week ago about the incident, but I couldn't get it out of my mind, the thought of a man hitting a woman never settled right with me, maybe it was because of the terror I saw in my mother’s eyes as my father came home just to beat her every night. But as I sat sorting medications, I remembered, it was her pick up day. I made sure I saved her medicine for last, that way when she arrived she could spend as much time in the Pharmacy as possible, and less time at home. But after her regularly scheduled appointment ticked by, I began to develop a knot in my stomach, something wasn't right. It was getting late and the later it got the more uneasy I became. Then the counter bell rang. It was a middle-aged man, it was evident he hadn’t been clean for a few days and his clothes were lightly covered with a brown film.

“I need my wife’s medications,” he said with a muffled voice.
“I ain’t got too much time and I don’t like being in places like this.”

Then it all clicked, the sores on his knuckles indicated that he had been
hitting someone, and the woman’s medicine he was here to get was the exact woman complaining of the abuse.

“Hello, Sir, I'll have the medicine out in a few minutes.”
“But can I ask, are you ok? You seem a little on the edge.”

“Get out of my business, you’re a pharmacist not a therapist, do your job.”

“You better hurry up, I'm not paying you to stand around,” he responded with intensity.
 
I had to do something, I had to help her, just a brief hello turned hostile, how could she manage living with him?

“Sir, would you like some water while you wait?” I asked trying to pass the time.

“Sure,” he responded, “make sure it's cold.”

I hesitantly handed him a cup of water and headed back to check the labels on the prescription.

Then a thump!...... I aimlessly ran to the front of the counter only to see his body lying cold upon the waiting room floor.

As I sat there wiping off the empty syringe… .
I said silently, with a smirk on my face
That must have been a killer cup of water……..