June 20, 2022
In my last blog, I shared my emotional breakdown, uncovering what I thought I had dealt with only to discover immense internal much-needed growth with my long solo drive and writing the blog. Life is constantly a work in progress. It was an epiphany to let go, be the little girl, and discover life with youthful innocence. I can forgive the past, appreciate today, and hope for new discoveries tomorrow.
Now back to the rest of my story. It is now 2016, 6-years post horse accident. The medical community had no resolution to alleviate the nerve pain besides a cocktail of different anticonvulsants, high doses of narcotics, and antidepressant medications. To add to my challenges, they discovered 2 melanomas on my right forearm and lower back. I had surgery to remove the melanomas caught just in time to be any threat. My bloodwork was low in thyroid and vitamin D. I was 40 pounds overweight. It was suggested that I take additional medication to lower these blood results. I continue to run into dead ends in the medical community. I joined support groups. I found it was more depressing than a positive benefit. I explored and found comfort in cooking with foods to eliminate inflammation and regulate my hormones. I was a strict vegan, a decision both for environmental and health reasons.
While visiting California, my uncle introduced me to tennis and pickleball. It brought out my competitiveness. It was frustrating and awkward to learn to play left-handed. I spent several hours with a basket of balls just tossing the ball for the timing to be able to serve, plus the support of many on advice on the proper technique for my forehand and backhand. I was able to get pretty good. With my new diet and exercising, I felt more alive. I weaned off several medications. Unfortunately, I started experiencing intense pain and instability at my elbow. After several images, the radius bone had migrated and deteriorated. I was scheduled for another surgery to do a radial head replacement. It was instant relief from the instability. The nerve pain was still a significant challenge.
My team of doctors believed the medication regimen was the best they could offer. I was on a 75 mcg patch of fentanyl every other day and 325/10 mg Norco for break-through pain. I was assured I wasn’t or couldn’t get addicted and that it was necessary with my injuries that provide adequate relief without several side effects. They said I could be on this for the rest of my life.
Jeff and I decided to winter in Florida. I was required to visit a doctor every month to oversee my medication. At first, I thought the challenge of establishing myself with the Florida medical community was learning the complexity of my injuries. I quickly discovered that Florida was one of the first states to have increased abuse in prescribing narcotics. At each doctor visit, I was integrated on my use. I had to sign legally binding documents stating I would not make them responsible, agree to use as prescribed only, and was required to keep medications locked up. I had to provide a urine sample, not just your standard private specimen retrieval. You were to leave any purse, coat, and such to make sure you had nothing to falsely provide a different sample, in a like manner to being frisked. They stood outside the door until you were done. You were not to flush. It was a strict procedure, just lacking handcuffs.
Finally, after a 2-plus hour wait, integration, and the same 5-minute conversation with the doctor, I received the refill prescription. Even though I was a regular, consistent customer. I had difficulty filling with the pharmacy. They did not keep narcotics on-premises with the upswing of robberies. They had to have the actual prescription before ordering it due to their new restrictions and legal consequences on narcotics. This caused a delay in my refill, a week beyond my refill date, causing horrible withdrawal and unimaginable pain. An inhumane lifestyle dealing with the doctors, nurses, pharmacy, and insurance. I would be in tears with frustration, intense pain, and severe withdrawal. I would call pleading for help; each profession would blame the other. No one wanted to be responsible or would/could help. I was not the only patient. Whenever I sat with someone, they expressed their torture at my monthly appointment; several patients chimed in with the same story while we were packed in the waiting room. A visual for you, imagine a corral of animals crowded in a pen, waiting to be pushed through the shoot one by one. You could bet on waiting at least an hour or two beyond your scheduled appointment. Then be rushed through with no empathy for your questions or concerns. It was getting impossible for any quality of life.
Florida pain management facilities only provide relief by injections; they refuse to prescribe narcotics unless terminal. I was flagged as a difficult patient as I refused these injections. Even though I had several of them with terrible side effects, nor did they provide any relief. They had no other alternative for me. I was passed to different facilities over the next 2 plus years, only to be treated as a drug seeker. My last straw was a call from my pain clinic. It was an hour before my scheduled appointment. The coordinator called to let me know it was canceled. I was released as their patient. I was put on the street. What? I didn’t want these @#@king drugs anyway. This was my life every month. I seriously felt like a criminal.
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