For many summers I went to sleep-away camp and I remember how exciting it was to get a package in the mail. After lunch, during rest hour, when we were all (supposed to be) quiet in our bunks, if there was a care package waiting for you in head bunk, your name would be announced over the loud speaker for all of girl’s area to hear. Some campers experienced the joy of this on a regular basis, while the rest of us tried to mask our jealousy. It’s funny to think back at what made us all so giddy, tearing up the boxes to see what was inside- nail polish, magazines, books, stuffed animals, and other little goodies. I was lucky if there was a package sent to me even once a month.
Times have changed since those summer camp days. Most days I come home from work and I see at least one package waiting in the building lobby. Sometimes I can tell immediately that it belongs to us, but for the most part, I have to get a closer look—but I have learned that when in doubt, it is addressed to apartment #12. But, I should not say it belongs to “us” because they are almost never addressed to me, but rather specifically to Eamonn.
In all of the packages are drugs. Packages full of medical supplies that one would think would last a lifetime. Unfortunately, they don’t. The packages keep coming. In them are Eamonn’s pills of all varieties, shake mixes he takes to gain weight, inhalation drugs, and once in a while, medical equipment.
The packages come in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and even textures. Some boxes are small and square—these are the ones I often get prematurely excited about, thinking they might be for me. Others are shorter and rectangular so they take up a bit more floor space once in our apartment. Then there are the white, styrofoam coolers that carry the inhalation drugs, which need to stay refrigerated and cooled for their entire trip. When I notice these in the lobby they receive an involuntary eye roll because I hate styrofoam, and we cannot repurpose them as bins for our recycling. In some instances, these coolers are even packaged inside a larger box, successfully fooling me. However, I can admit that it is impressive that there are ways to ship refrigerated medicine across the country. Then there are the massive boxes. They’re so big that I can sit inside them (I’ve done it, so don’t doubt me). The best part about these boxes is that there are more boxes inside! They’re like Mary Poppins’ purse—more and more keep coming. In fact, the contents of the smaller boxes inside the one large box are…you guessed it, even smaller boxes. In these are Eamonn’s shake mix packets, which he uses 2-3 times a day, so the supply runs out quickly. Which only means more boxes!
All of these packages mean one thing—our apartment is often full of empty boxes. On most days it appears as if we are getting ready to move. This is not the case. However, when we are ready to move it’s nice to know that packing will be that much simpler (though I’d imagine we’d use these boxes to hold Eamonn’s drugs that came in them originally!).
The frequency of receiving packages has become somewhat humorous. If our neighbors have noticed by now who all of these packages are addressed to, it would be interesting to know what they think we are doing. I really can’t complain about having to carry them upstairs most of the time, or having them take up space in the apartment, because inside carries Eamonn’s life line. Without all of these boxes Eamonn wouldn’t be getting his needed medicines and drugs. And, when the packages are actually for me it’s that much more exciting– like being a kid at camp again!