The results of a recent blood test have been prescriptions by my doctor for iron and Vitamin D supplements “for the next three months”.
I’m not a big believer in supplements generally (doesn’t the body just rid itself of an excess of vitamins and minerals?), but can see that it’s important to address actual deficiencies.
After some research (heme and non-heme iron; Vitamin C aids iron absorption; the efficacy of Vitamin D2 versus Vitamin D3; thank god for Chrome’s OneTab extension) and a few days’ shipping time, my housemate dropped a bag with two bottles of supplements at my bedroom door.
The bottles sit on my nightstand.
I don’t think I’ve ever had to commit to doing something every single day, at least not something whose effect will be scientifically measured after a set amount of time. It’s a test I am sure to pass if I can make sure to do this one small thing everyday (and maybe have less caffeine and spend a little more time in the sun), and the process is immensely satisfying.
I’m enjoying the ritual of pill-taking as much as I do the thought of its result. The rattle of the pills in their bottles, contrasted with their cool smooth noiselessness in my hand. The inverse relationship of how many there are left with how my body is improving, one hopes.