A Tale of Detours, Despair, and Determination

 

Cake, Crisis, and a Needle Named Regret.

Previously, I shared my mid-life chocolate cake epiphany—a moment that led me to Ozempic. What followed was a doctor’s appointment filled with pastry-related existential dread, a tragic orange-stabbing incident, and the realization that needles are, in fact, terrifying.

Now came my first real challenge: actually getting Ozempic.

Turns out, finding Ozempic is harder than finding a parking spot at Christmas time.

Indiana Jones and the Pharmacy of Doom.

You’d think picking up a prescription would be easy:
1️⃣ See a doctor.
2️⃣ Get a prescription.
3️⃣ Walk into a pharmacy.

4️⃣ Walk out with medication. 

Right? WRONG.

Because as it turns out, Ozempic is the Beyoncé of medications: everyone wants it, no one can get it, and there’s always a waiting list.

My first stop was my local pharmacy, the kind of cheerful place that smells faintly of baby powder and optimism. I approached the counter with confidence, prescription in hand, ready to kick off this new chapter of my life. But then I saw it—a handwritten sign in bold red letters taped to the counter:

🚫 "NO OZEMPIC IN STOCK."

I stared at the sign, feeling personally attacked. It wasn’t just bad news; it was a slap in the face from the universe. It might as well have said, “Nice try, though!”

“Okay,” I told myself, trying to stay calm. “No big deal. They probably just had a rush. How hard can it be to find one little box of medication?” Spoiler alert: very hard.

The Great Pharmacy Quest of 2025

At the second pharmacy, I walked up to the counter with cautious optimism. “Hi,” I began, smiling like someone about to ask for a favor. “Do you have Ozempic in stock?”

The pharmacist barely looked up. She sighed—a long, dramatic sigh that deserved its own award—and shook her head. I could feel my confidence deflate like a balloon at a kid’s birthday party.

By the time I left the third pharmacy, where I was met with a weary expression and a muttered “backorder,” I began to wonder if this was some kind of cosmic joke. Maybe the universe was testing me, trying to see how serious I was about this whole “changing my life” thing.

But I wasn’t ready to give up. I was on a mission, and missions require determination, stamina, and—apparently—snacks. (I regret to admit that these snacks included a chocolate bar from the checkout aisle of pharmacy number three. Old habits die hard.)

Determined to expand my search radius, I fired up my GPS, typed in “pharmacies near me,” and set off on what would soon become the Great Pharmacy Quest of 2025.

What followed was a road trip that could only be described as equal parts adventure and endurance test. My GPS, usually a reliable co-pilot, decided to channel its inner chaos agent. Three detours, one wrong turn, and an ill-timed construction zone later, I was on the verge of losing my patience—and possibly my mind.

At one point, I ended up in the parking lot of what I thought was a pharmacy, only to discover it was a dry cleaner. In my defense, the sign said “Express,” and I was desperate.

As the hours wore on, I found myself muttering motivational slogans like a coach trying to rally a losing team. “You’ve got this,” I whispered, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “You’re one pharmacy closer to success.” My car’s dashboard, littered with empty coffee cups and snack wrappers, looked like a battlefield of determination and despair.

Victory in a Dingy Strip Mall

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I stumbled upon a small, slightly dingy pharmacy tucked away in what looked like a forgotten strip mall. The place hadn’t been updated since the 80s. The fluorescent lights flickered ominously, the shelves were half-empty, and the pharmacist behind the counter looked like she was counting the minutes until her shift ended.

And then I saw it: a tiny, laminated sign taped to the counter:

✔️ "OZEMPIC IN STOCK."

I nearly wept.

Approaching the counter, I tried to play it cool, but my enthusiasm betrayed me. “You have Ozempic?” I blurted out, my voice probably louder than it needed to be.

The pharmacist nodded, moving at a pace that suggested she wasn’t nearly as impressed by this moment as I was. She handed over the box with the kind of indifferent expression that said, “Relax, it’s just medication.”

But to me, it wasn’t just medication. It was hope in a box. I clutched that little carton like it was the key to my future, my triumphant smile refusing to fade. As I walked back to my car, I couldn’t resist a victorious fist pump in the parking lot. (Okay, fine, it was more of a subtle arm wiggle, but the sentiment was there.)

The drive home was filled with a strange mix of emotions: relief, pride, and a sense of accomplishment that probably shouldn’t have been this strong over finding medication. I thought about how this one little box represented more than just a step toward weight loss—it was a step toward taking control of my life.

And yet, as the adrenaline wore off, a new wave of nervousness set in. There were injections to master, habits to change, and the ever-present challenge of not accidentally calling it “Olympic” instead of Ozempic.

When I pulled into my driveway, I sat in the car for a moment, staring at the box like it was a treasure map to my future. I had done it. I had survived the quest. And now, the real adventure was about to begin.

Deep Thoughts with a Box of Needles

As I sat there, clutching my long-awaited box of Ozempic, I realized that this journey was about far more than just weight loss—it was about commitment, resilience, and proving to myself that I could change. The frustration, detours, and moments of doubt during my great pharmacy quest weren’t just obstacles; they were reminders that transformation isn’t meant to be easy.

For years, I’ve started and stopped countless weight loss attempts, always looking for the perfect moment, the perfect plan, the perfect mindset. But if this chaotic adventure taught me anything, it’s that change doesn’t wait for perfection—it starts in the messy, inconvenient, and sometimes ridiculous moments (like mistaking a dry cleaner for a pharmacy).

Now, as I stand at the edge of this new chapter, reality is sinking in: I have the medication, but now I have to follow through. There will be fears to face (hello, needles), habits to unlearn, and moments of doubt. But I’ve already proven one thing—I won’t quit at the first sign of struggle.

This isn’t just about getting healthier. It’s about becoming the version of myself that I’ve always envisioned—the one who shows up for herself, even when it’s hard. That tropical island is waiting, but so is the life I want to build every single day until then.

And with that, the real work begins. Next stop: my first Ozempic injection. Wish me luck.

In my next post, I’ll share the moment of truth: my first real Ozempic injection and whether or not I managed to avoid stabbing myself in the process.

👉 Have you ever had to go on an epic quest just to get a prescription? Tell me your wildest pharmacy story!