After a few bad experiences, I've realized that antibiotics and I don't really get along. I avoid them when at all possible.
But some dental work gone wrong led me to need them again.
"Won't this go away on its own?" I asked my young and wholly unsympathetic dentist.
"Well, basically, the infection's eating away at your cheekbone," he said, pointing excitedly at the X-ray, like dude, I've never seen this before!
"Yeah, and who's bad technique put it there?" I wondered.
So I consented to a round of penicillin (and yes, I broke out in hives when it was done).
I went across the street to the pharmacy, where my friend works, to pick up my prescription.
And in the category of "Things You Didn't Think Would Embarrass You Over Forty But You Find Out They Do"?
That would be buying penicillin from a friend.
It didn't help that he (with a great big, evil smile) refused to listen to my explanation and kept saying, loudly, "It's all a life-style choice."
I think ex-Catholics are just too much fun to mess with.