Wednesday, November 28, 2018
All My Friends Are Brown and Red
So apparently there is an “opioid crisis” in our country.
People, and by people I mean addicts, are overdosing on drugs and killing
themselves, and the government is trying to blame physicians for
overprescribing.
Some emergency rooms have banned opioid use all together,
which is strange to me as I don’t see how a facility can pre-determine what
circumstances will come walking through the door. By saying no opioids will be
administered, does that mean if someone in a car accident comes in with his leg
hanging on by a thread, he’ll be given Tylenol and sent home?
Then there are those of us with chronic pain. For the
vocabulary challenged, this means the pain never stops. This means the pain is
not from an ailment that will eventually heal. It’s permanent. There’s is no
surgery to correct it. For the rest of that person’s life, he will have this
pain. Obviously there are degrees of pain, and some pain is tolerable without
taking opioids. But when it comes to ailments like Neuropathy, Fibromyalgia,
Rheumatoid Arthritis, and many other conditions that are incurable, the pain is
unbearable.
Years ago, when I was first diagnosed with Neuropathy, I
would get up in the night and go into my mother’s room, curl up next to her and
cry. The pain kept me from sleeping and I was a wreck. It started in my feet
and has now moved up beyond my knees. After nearly 20 years of dealing with
this torture that must surely be some form of medieval punishment for something
I’ve done in a past life, I can barely walk. I use a cane, I can’t climb
stairs, and my doctor is recommending leg braces. Sounds sexy, doesn’t it? My
hands are such that I can barely grasp a pen and I’m constantly wringing them
and wearing copper infused compression gloves. Along with the pain, numbness,
and electric shocks I endure on the daily, Neuropathy has also taken away my
sense of balance. Even in my own home, I must grab onto the wall or couch to
keep myself from falling over.
In this Opioid Epidemic/Crisis state of emergency we’re
supposedly living in now, the new motto developed for chronic pain patients is
Pain Acceptance. We are to accept that this is our life and to not be
pre-occupied with changing it. Accept it
and go about our day. Let me tell you - this is not possible. While I have most
certainly accepted that my life as I once knew is over, I will always pursue
pain relief. I will always be researching my condition to see if there are any
new treatments or findings. I will always be fighting.
It is important that it be known that chronic pain
patients taking pain medication are
never pain free. Medication simply takes the edge off a bit, and that ever so
slight relief we feel is what enables us to get out of bed every day
(sometimes) and feed ourselves and bathe ourselves (sometimes). Many people
struggle with those daily tasks. I know that without pain medication, I
wouldn’t be able to sit upright and have a conversation with someone. I
wouldn’t be able to enjoy time with my daughter or watch a movie. Forget
working. Forget saving to buy a home or taking a vacation or going on a road
trip. Forget almost everything I used to do in my old life. Pain medication
allows me to somewhat function within the walls of my little apartment. I am in
bed most of the time and every little task exhausts me. But I can still
microwave a veggie burger and wipe my own backside thanks to morphine.
It’s also important to know that my doctor counts my pills
every month to assure I’m not taking too many, and that I am randomly drug
tested so he knows I’m not taking any illicit drugs. If I were to break these
rules, I would be kicked out of the practice and cut off from my medication. I
learned recently that my name is in some nationwide database listing all the
medications I’m taking. So, to get a little relief, I’m being treated as a drug
addict, when the most I’ve ever done is drink wine coolers in my 20s.
So, anyone who thinks I, or any other chronic pain patient,
am getting high or using my disability to get drugs, should think again. I am
not an addict. I am not someone who is seeking asylum from the real world by
masking it with drugs. I’ve known people like that and those people are the
ones who need to be denied access to opioids, not some 40 something woman in
North Carolina who needs assistance getting groceries in the house and lives on
disability, unable to afford to buy a winter coat. I’m just doing what I can to
get by, and I live in fear my medication
will be taken from me because of the bad decisions countless others have made. I’m not an addict. I am a patient. Please know
the difference.
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Thank You, Gallo
Gosh, I haven't attended to this blog in quite a while.I've looked it over and there are some very silly posts on here. Lots of sel...
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