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So, antihistamines. Generally perceived as pretty harmless, used to treat allergies, right?
My dad gets terrible hayfever. He hasn't found an antihistamine that works. Except one, which helped his allergies, I think, but he doesn't take it, even though Dad's hayfever is the "it doesn't kill you, you just wish it would" kind.
Because this antihistamine is my dad's very own Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde serum, somehow.
When he took it, Dad became a hateful, horrible, nasty jerk. Horrible! And he has no memory of this. I don't think he even remembers taking the pill, but he definitely doesn't remember being mean to his family afterwards.
Fortunately, he takes my mother's word for it that no, he shouldn't ever take that tablet again. My mother is not a controlling person, or a shrewish wife, or anything like that. Dad is his own person, a grown man who is allowed to make his own choices.
It's just that she has, quite mildly, even cheerfully, observed that while he totally gets to make his own choices, the choice, in this case, is between taking that antihistamine and remaining married.
It is, for the record, the only situation regarding which my mother has ever even hinted at that kind of ultimatum. It makes sense, though. She married Jekyll; if he were to choose to live a life of Hyde, it's a fair call for him to ditch the bastard.
It's just so odd. An over-the-counter anti-histamine, one I *take*. (I think. I'm not naming the brand in part because I'm not 100% confident in my recall of precisely which one he was taking.) And it turns my dad, a loving husband and father who would, I swear, quite literally die before deliberately hurting his wife or children, into a spiteful jerk.
Drugs are weird.
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