Episode 23 — Thirty days before the date. Who remembers for you

Tuesday, nine in the morning.

I'm making coffee in my iPhone buzzes on the worktop.

I look down and there's the name of an ointment I'd completely forgotten we had.

And one line.

The saved expiry date is 30 days away.

First thought, what ointment?

Second thought, ah, the travel wash bag.

Hello.

I'm Tomasz Szuster.

I built the mojApteczka app.

And what you just heard was Iza, my wife.

That ointment had been sitting in the wash bag we take on holiday.

Sitting there since the summer.

On the top shelf of the wardrobe, in a wash bag nobody opens until the next trip.

And that's exactly what I want to talk about today.

In the last episode, we did a walk through the medicine cabinet before the season.

Four questions, half an hour on a Sunday.

Which I did, for the record.

I know.

And it was a good walk through.

The thing is, a walk through is a snapshot of one day.

Expiry dates don't wait for the next one.

They pass on a Wednesday, on a Thursday, in the middle of half term.

So, what?

I meant to do one every week?

No.

And that's what this episode is about.

Who keeps track of the dates in between, when you've got everything else on your plate?

Right.

Right.

Let's start with what landed on my phone.

How does it even know?

Recently, the app started sending a notification before a medicine's expiry date.

Three times.

Thirty days before, seven days before, and the day before.

On an iPhone, it arrives at nine in the morning.

Why three?

Because each one does a different job.

Thirty days is time to sort something out calmly.

Pick one up when you're passing.

Ask at the pharmacy.

Nothing in a rush.

Seven days is the last call before it slips away.

And the day before is just one line.

The saved expiry date is tomorrow.

And if I add a medicine that's only got a week left, do I get a late 30-day one?

Not on an iPhone.

The app only plans the reminders that are still ahead of you, so seven days and the day before,

or just the day before.

It doesn't send a catch-up alert when you add it.

And if I ignore it?

Because ignoring notifications is practically my profession.

Will it nag me every day until I give in?

Not on an iPhone.

There, each of the three arrives once.

No daily nagging.

Ignore the 30-day one, and the next one won't turn up until a week before the date.

That's better manners than most of my friends.

That was the idea.

An app that shouts every day ends up with its notifications switched off.

And then you've got nothing at all.

Right.

Now, the thing that caught my eye straight away.

The notification said saved.

The saved expiry date.

Why not just the expiry date?

Because that word is very deliberate.

The app doesn't look at your box.

All it knows is the date you've got saved in it.

If that date was typed in wrong, the notification comes on the wrong day.

So it's saying, I only know what you've told me.

Exactly that much.

I didn't want it to sound like an oracle.

When the alert comes, check the date on the box.

It takes five seconds.

Okay.

So I tap the notification.

Then what?

Yes.

On an iPhone, tapping it opens the app.

And from there, you go into the expiring medication screen.

It has two tabs.

Soon, for things with the date still ahead of them.

And expired.

That's the screen from the last episode.

The same one.

And this matters.

The notification isn't a new place where you keep what you know.

It's just a nudge to go and look where that knowledge already lives.

Just to be clear, I'm talking here about features of the mojApteczka app, which I build myself.

Right.

Here's my problem with all of this.

I've got half the notifications on my phone switched off.

Because every app thinks it's the most important thing in the world.

And you're right to switch them off.

Which is why on an iPhone, there's a separate screen in the settings.

Expiry date alerts.

There's one main switch.

And then three more.

30 days.

7 days.

And the day before.

If you only want the last one, you keep only the last one.

Can I change the time?

Because at 9, I'm already in my first meeting.

Not on an iPhone.

On Android, though, you can change how many days before the date the reminder comes.

Because it's built a bit differently there.

And one more thing.

Obvious, but people forget it.

If your phone doesn't allow the app to send notifications, no alert will come at all.

Right.

Now qualifies I'd ask any app.

Will it always come?

No.

And I'd rather say that myself than have you find out in February.

I'll tell you how it works on an iPhone, because there I know every detail.

Go on then.

There are three situations.

First, on a lot of boxes, the expiry date is given as just a month and a year, no day.

If the date is saved in the app like that, month and year only, there won't be an alert.

None at all?

None at all.

The medicine still shows on the expiring screen, but you won't get a notification about it.

So what do I do?

Make up a day so it comes through?

I'm not going to recommend that.

Then the app saves the date that isn't on the box.

And the whole point of that notification is that it tells the truth about what's saved.

For medicines like that, you've still got the expiring screen and the walkthrough.

Fair enough.

Second?

Second.

The list of alerts is recalculated when you come back to the app.

So if you correct the date on the medicine card, the new reminder gets set the next time you open the app, not that very second.

And the third?

Third.

The phone has a limit on scheduled notifications, and the expiry ones share that limit with dose reminders.

The rule is that the dose comes first.

If someone has a great many dose reminders, the expiry alert might not come at all.

So dose reminders go to the front of the queue?

Yes.

The next one is the next one.

Expiry alerts get whatever room is left.

That's the rule for how notifications are scheduled.

And the medicine you didn't get an alert about is still there on the expiring list.

Okay.

That actually sounds honest.

And that's why the expiring screen is still the main source.

The walkthrough from the last episode still makes sense.

The notification catches what falls in between, but it doesn't replace actually looking.

Right.

Back to my ointment from the wash bag.

It came through, I had a look, and yes, a month to go.

What am I supposed to do with it?

Three things, and none of them is medical.

First, is this even something you want to keep in that wash bag?

If it is, you plan to buy one.

On that shopping list from the last episode.

You can add it there by hand, from the medicine card.

The alert itself doesn't put it on the list.

But that's what the 30 days are for.

So you can buy it calmly, not on the morning you leave.

Second?

Second.

Once the date has passed, you take the expired medicine to a collection point,

following that point's rules.

Not in the bin.

At least where we are, in Poland,

the most reliable list of collection points is usually on the local council's website.

There's a whole episode on that.

Episode four.

And third?

Third, you delete it from the app.

On the medicine card, there's delete medication.

Because if the medicine is already at the collection point,

but it's still sitting in the app,

the medicine cabinet on your phone starts telling you lies.

And if I'm wondering whether that ointment's still fine to use the day after the date,

it's only one day after all.

That's a question for a pharmacist or your GP.

Not for me, and not for the app.

The app tells you what date is saved.

Whether a given product can still be used,

that it doesn't decide.

And it won't.

Same rule as always.

Same rule.

The app remembers.

The decision sits with someone who actually knows.

Now for the question in the typal.

Who remembers for me?

Because, let's be honest,

it came to my phone.

Me again.

That's a fair charge.

It's not a charge.

It's the statistics of our house.

And that's why this second part matters more than the notification itself.

You can share a medicine cabinet.

If I have access to the same one,

I see the same expiring list.

I don't have to ask you what's about to run out of date.

So when I get an alert about the ointment,

I can just say,

look at the expiring list.

Pick one up on your way home.

You can.

And you don't have to explain which ointment,

or which wash bag,

because it's all on the medicine card,

including where it's kept.

And your mum?

Because Elżbieta has her own cupboard and her own rules,

and nobody looks in that cupboard.

Nobody has looked in that cupboard for 20 years.

But if my mum shares her medicine cabinet with me in the app,

I see her expiring list on my phone.

Not so I can keep tabs on her.

Then what for?

So that over Sunday lunch,

I know what to ask.

Mum,

those drops of yours run out of date in November.

Shall I pick some up for you?

That's a completely different conversation

from rummaging through someone's cupboard.

And completely different from a panicked phone call

because something's run out.

Exactly.

You know what I like about it?

Remembering stops being one person's personality trait.

I think that's the best summary of this episode.

The walkthrough, once a season,

sets the starting point.

The notification keeps an eye on what falls in between.

And the shared list means that knowledge

doesn't live in one person's head.

And the ointment?

I bought it on Thursday.

Because you saw it on the expiring list.

Because I saw it on the expiring list.

If you'd like to try the mojApteczka app,

the app is free and works offline.

You'll find the link in the episode description.

And if you enjoyed this episode,

share it with the person in your house

who remembers for everyone.

One more thing before we go.

This podcast is made with the help of artificial intelligence.

I wrote the dialogue myself,

but the voices you're hearing aren't ours.

They're AI-generated, synthetic voices.

We're telling you this straight out

because we think it should be the standard

for any podcast made this way.

Full details are in the show notes

and in every episode description.

Until next time.

Until next time.