How Embarrassing

Good grief, and I thought I were grown up by now. But you have to admit: Pharmacies are a bit open plan, aren’t they? It might be okay if you are picking up your prescription. That’s a bit like buying a certain magazine from under the counter. You present a little sheet and get a subtle little paper bag. It sometimes is convenient to have fallen really ill, because then all the embarrassing things got discussed in the privacy of the doctors room already.

But there are all these little diseases that can spoil the day more than anything else. These itches, aches and inconveniences one doesn’t really need to see a doctor for, but one can’t ignore either.  

When we were younger the most embarrassing things to buy were condoms. In the pre-Aids era they were nowhere to be seen in shops. My now-hubby confidently sneaked into a sex-shop and - almost bumped into his English teacher. But at least those shops had corners and stands to hide in and behind.

Then condoms came into the supermarkets normally hidden on a lower shelf in a corner and one might have thought: ‘Oh, that’s handy; I can sneak them between the vegetables’. Until the lady at the check-out shouts throughout the whole floor: ‘Linda, can you please check how much the condoms are? No, not the lubricant ones, the ones with strawberry flavour!’ – Blush!

Nowadays they cover about 3 metres of top level shelf and nobody bothers anymore which ones you choose, while I can’t find this damn haemorrhoid cream. So I sneak to the counter – Okay! I’m the only one in the area, only one lady being served; I’ll quickly barge in right behind her and ask!

As soon as I dare approaching the counter, a queue of people piles up behind me – no escape, it’s my turn now and I’m whispering: 'Would you happen to have something like Ainjuhsiel '?

Me being German, I don’t have a clue how to pronounce this weird conglomerate of letters which was advertised as a brilliant remedy on the internet. So still in a whispering voice, I’m starting to spell it until the woman behind me is losing patience and kindly burst into: 'Oh, she means Anusol!' and the pharmacist joins in: 'The cream or the ointment?'

By now half the town knows that at least one member of my family has a problem with its rear. Who on earth invents these product names, who would ever want to produce something with the word ‘anus’ in its name – Gosh! Can’t they call that stuff Soothymed or Swiftaway?

In the end I took cream and ointment, somewhat unwilling to discuss the matter any further.

Looking back, it is a bit like in an old sketch and somewhat funny. However, I know for sure that I would feel exactly the same, should it happen again. I might be old fashioned, I might be uptight – I don’t care. I need a bit of privacy in these things.