Chemistry

“Wow.” Boss said as he viewed the results that appeared on a screen. I looked up as well and cocked my head as I determined how I felt about our first run.

“That’s…really a lot of Chemical.” He said mildly, and I grinned immediately and decided what I’d write about when I got home. It’s a cute story, I decided. I can connect it to something else and it has a moderately decent point. Lovely.

I had to work this afternoon, and was expected to bring something. I wrote about my first attempt at creating said item, and my second attempt occurred today. I parked my car upon arriving at my institution, carried what was left of my gallon of distilled water in one hand, purse in the other, and unlocked multiple doors and turned on a few lights to find my way to my desk.

My plan was to purchase a certain seasoning blend that contained the chemical of interest. We’re trying to detect Chemical for this specific reason, and I had carefully calculated molarity – doing stoichiometry and everything! – and carefully measured and dissolved and made sure each container was rinsed with the distilled water in January.

This time? Not so much.

First, I’m not feeling very well. I’m actually having convulsive stomach cramps at times, which is extremely unpleasant. Luckily, they’re sporadic. So I’m semi-functional. I looked for the seasoning containing Chemical at three stores, growing increasingly sad when I couldn’t find it. Apparently ordering online is my only good option here in my southern town. But since the experiment started in a little over an hour, not even the fastest of deliveries was going to help me out.

I had a backup plan in place though, so I went to the capsules I’d used before. I read an email discussing how much of the seasoning to use in ½ L of solution – 4.4 grams. After finding each capsule held 630 mg of Chemical, I decided I’d use ¼ L of water and 3.5 capsules. I clearly subscribe to the “close enough” method of doing chemistry. This is a good thing, as we’ll shortly discover.

I do have a decent Chemistry background - though it was never my focus, but it was corrupted my years of employment in an environmental lab. Once I got a feel for the levels we were detecting, it was true that “close enough” was usually more than sufficient. So the bad news is that I abandoned precision and know enough to be dangerous. The good news is that I’m highly efficient and can often accomplish my goal with items at hand.

I counted on these skills once I arrived at the office, having only capsules, water and 2 ziploc bags for the transportation of my final product. Luckily, the idea was pretty simple. I wanted to take 4 capsules, cut one in half, then dissolve 3.5 of them in about 250 mL of water. I thought it would likely be really strong – of far higher concentration than was necessary. But screw it – I didn’t feel good, there was no reason it had to be perfect – we just wanted Chemical to be detectable and crazy-strong was certainly detectable. So I headed to the ancient kitchen on the way to my desk and set my bottle of capsules near the sink, then plunked my gallon of water on the other side of the faucet.

Something to mix in, I decided, was a good place to start. So I saw two punch bowls – pretty crystal ones – off to the side of the sink. But my relief at finding a suitable container was short lived. One was put aside as I touched it as briefly as possible. Who knew what those awful yellow specks were from?

I decided to use the other, though I was frowning at it as well.

“Do you contain any detectable chemicals, gross gray film?” I asked the coating on the bottom of the dish before squirting a liberal amount of dishwashing detergent (I found it by the sink too) in it and shrugging before scrubbing with a paper towel from the nearby dispenser. I got most of it out before making my icky face and calling it good.

I opened the smaller of the two bottles I’d carried to my disgusting little workstation and counted six capsules that I’d shaken into my palm. Replacing two of them and twisting the lid to seal it, I set the four white pills in a puddle of water I’d accidentally created when washing my punch bowl.

I briefly considered throwing them away and getting new – it was not my intent to get them wet.

“Yeah, Katie.” I chided myself silently. “Between the concentration you haven’t calculated, gross gray film and other errors we haven’t made yet, a little extra tap water is going to be your major source of contamination. Goose.”

So in their tiny puddle they lay while I tried to decide how to measure ¼ L of distilled water. No measuring cups, I deduced after a quick check around the room. I could guess, but my skill with measurements is about as good as my sense of direction. If I was going to figure out how to cut one of those capsules in half, I could at least get close to ¼ L.

So I opened the refrigerator.

The three gallons of ice tea weren’t going to help, I decided. Nor was the canister of yogurt or a sad, wilted apple. But I reached eagerly for a tiny container of chocolate milk located all the way at the back of the second shelf from the bottom.

236 mL. Close enough! But how was I going to use it? It’s impolite to steal someone’s milk, so perhaps I could devise some weighting system where I could pour an equal amount of water in some container in one hand, then try to balance the weight of the milk I held in the other hand.

Even I – with my “can do” attitude – thought, “how the hell is that going to work?” So I twisted my mouth and thought some more, turning the milk container in my hand.

“Oh, that’s gotta be rancid.” I said upon seeing the OCT. 6 stamp on the spout - it's almost November. “Fantastic for me!”

I opened the cardboard container, and – holding my breath all the while – dumped the milk down the drain and began rinsing the inside of the cardboard with tap water. I rinsed and rinsed, peeking inside to see how clean it was. Apart from a couple of chocolate stains, I think I got most of the residual contents out.

So I filled it with distilled water, then transferred the measured water to the semi-clean punch bowl. Then I dumped a little more water in, with “Yep, totally scientific.” nod toward another 14 mL.

“Now to dissolve these capsules.” I noted happily, pleased with my progress so far. I had about 250 mL of water and that was half the battle! So I started to saw through one of the pills with a steak knife I found in a plastic bin near the sink, helped along by the fact that the pill was rather damp.

“Fortuitous.” I complimented myself out loud.

Then I threw my 3.5 tablets in the water and poked at them with the tip of the knife. Remembering I’d heated the water to aid dissolution before, I made my icky face again when I opened the microwave.

“Aacky.” I said mildly, wishing I’d remembered to hold my breath again. But I set it to “frozen entrée” and waited while the water heated. After about a minute (because a frozen entrée apparently takes 2:45), I retrieved my punch bowl and set it on the counter, frowning down into the opaque white water.

“Is that milk or just really strong solution?” I wondered, then picked up the bowl to peer at the bottom of the dish. I could still see partial capsules lying sadly on the bottom, so I stuck my hand in, fished one out, then tried to cut it with the steak knife.

Slightly fearful I’d injure my thumb, I set the knife down after only 2 slices and twisted my mouth again. I tried to crush the pill between my fingers, but was unsuccessful.

Then I saw some salad tongs and smiled with what can only be described as giddy satisfaction.

They worked perfectly.

I also used them to stir my increasingly white mixture, pleased with my accomplishment. I held a Ziploc baggie open with one hand, then started to pour my concoction into it. I decided to fill one very little and the other quite a lot. No real reason – I just wanted to mix it up.

So I finished the small one, then carefully removed most of the air and sealed it. Then I prepared the second baggie, and frowned when I saw the large amount of white precipitate at the bottom of the punch bowl.

“That’s not good.” I frowned. “Swirl and pour. Swirl and pour.” And when the bag was halfway full, I decided that was good enough and sealed it. Then I cleaned the punch bowl, nodding at my ability to remove the gray film by some mixture of washing, mixing and microwaving, then put it back where I found it. I cleaned the steak knife and salad tongs as well, drying everything – including the counters – with the brown paper towels.

So, yes, my creation was really strong. But Chemical was detectable, which was my only real criteria. And if we happened to detect some indefinable compounds as well? It’s difficult to hypothesize from whence they came, and it doesn’t really matter for our purposes anyway. I had a goal and made it happen. We detected Chemical in a spatially heterogeneous pattern. Our technique and equipment work, and I have data I can process. Mission accomplished.

My point – and the reason I’m telling my chemistry story – is that it doesn’t have to be perfect. Life isn’t neat and tidy and all measured and cleaned properly. Sometimes I slap something together. I look at the major goal and decide how much time I have to get there. I do what I can with what I have, then I hope for the best. If nothing else, I can learn for next time.

I plan to apply this “guess and check” approach to the medication I’ve been taking. My Celexa prescription ran out and I didn’t refill it. I think the depression was very related to an event that hit me very hard. Every time I’ve done very badly, it’s been related to some specific life change. Big exams. Being homesick for the first time. An injury to love and trust. Missing friends.

“I was trying to figure it out.” I told Unnamed Friend a couple days ago. “And my first thought was that I experience emotions – bad emotions – on a level more profound than other people. But that isn’t necessarily right. And it can’t be tested.”

She nodded. “You might,” she allowed. “But it’s hard to tell.”

“So the problem,” I continued after agreeing with her, “is that I seem to be less capable of coping with the bad emotions than normal people.”

But I’m more aware of myself and my limits. This episode was bad – I’m trying to ignore that, but my blog entries make that difficult. Writing during the worst moments might have actually been a good idea. I can look back on some of that – and I have – and recognize the truth in how agonized I was. Recall waking to moan at the severity of the pain. Shake my head over the hours I spent on the bathroom floor, desperate to find comfort and endure the time that was so very miserable. I remember. I know. It was very bad.

Now I feel better. Balanced and stable. Like myself again – and it’s been months and months since I could say that. So why not continue with the medication? I’m not sure. I’m curious, I think. I want to know how I’ll do without it in an environment where people know I have the ability to get quite ill and can inform me if I start to slide downward again. The people at work are now guarding against the worst of my moods, and I have every faith that Unnamed Friend won’t spare my feelings if I start to get morose and despondent. Even you’ll be able to know from reading, and I think that some of you would mention it might be wise to refill that particular bottle of capsules.

But it’s not always pretty. Sometimes there’s a weird gray film. Other times I use a milk carton when a graduated cylinder would have been more optimal. It’s good when I find salad tongs when I’m trying to crush half-dissolved capsules.

The question that just occurred to me is why struggle – or risk a struggle – when it’s not necessary? If I’d had a measuring device, I wouldn’t have even looked for the milk carton. Or if someone had offered me a container of ideally concentrated, perfectly formed Chemical, I wouldn’t have even considered making me own just for fun. For all my attitude and efficiency and education, I do what works. Which means I’ll make a different point than I originally intended.

I’ll refill the prescription tomorrow.

I don’t think I’ll take antidepressants forever, though I guess that’s possible. But I am going to take them for a little while longer. Because I am better. I think they helped. So I’ll let them help some more. Ideal or not, I can't tell from here. So I'll take the safe route for the time being.