Showing posts with label Pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pain. Show all posts

Friday, September 12, 2008

I-1000 — It’s Not About Disabilities

Washington State I-1000 Death With Dignity

I am a man with disabilities.

Moving HURTS.

My walking stick has been in my family two generations.

Like many people, I have disabilities you can not see. But the being a gimp thing is pretty damn obvious.

Back before I became a crip, I was a paramedic and a flight medic.

I worked as a paramedic for almost ten years. Houston, Little Rock, Tucson & South Tucson, Oakland, and up in the mountains doing rope work. The videos you see on television of medics going down hoists out of helicopters with red crosses on them, into floods, ravines, and mountains? That was me. I flew all over the western United States in both little prop planes and on high-flying Lear Jets. I worked in big-city inner-city neighborhoods — the ghetto — and I flew above it all as a flight medic. Except for the moments when I dropped in and pulled someone out.

All that is behind me now. Even walking hobbling to the bathroom hurts.

Some people, who claim disabled status, are lying about I-1000, the Death With Dignity initiative. They claim it is a trick to put down folks like me, people with long-term chronic injuries or medical issues. They are liars trying to scare people.

Don’t be fooled.

Death With Dignity has NOTHING to do with people with disabilities. That is a vicious, cruel, dishonorable lie.

I’m going to tell you the truth:

If you’re a cripple or a gimp or a wheelie, or just so hurt you don’t know how you can take it some days, I-1000 doesn’t apply to you AT ALL. Nada. Nicht. Non. Not one fracking bit. The ONLY people Death With Dignity applies to are people who are TERMINALLY ill.

If you have a disease which multiple physicians sign off as fatal, that you’re going to DIE and die soon, then and only then can YOU request a dose. That’s it. It is your call, no one else.

None of this has anything to do with people with disabilities. Not a thing. If you have pain, get a good pain doctor. It’s amazing how much pain can be managed with meds these days. I KNOW. I take pain and associated meds every three to four hours around the clock and have for years. Most of the time they work.

Here’s my point. Pain hurts. Disabilities suck. But Death With Dignity isn’t about people with disabilities. Anyone who says otherwise is lying.

Don’t listen to the liars.

Unless what you have is fatal NOW, unless you are dying NOW, Death With Dignity has jack shit to do with you. Because it only applies if you are dying NOW and multiple doctors say so.

In that final moment, I know I want my mother, my children, myself, to be able to be as PRESENT, as AWARE as possible. When death comes — and it is coming, one death to a life, that’s the way it works — I want my eyes to be open so I can watch the transition happen.

Death With Dignity allows this to happen.

The liars would have you believe otherwise. That it has something to do with being a gimp, a cripple, a wheelie, or otherwise a person with a disability. It does not.

Death With Dignity has to do with YOU and the people you love; with being in charge of your life… and your death… when it is time. YOU, and your doctors, and your family, will know when it is time.

Right now it is time, please, to Vote YES on Prop. 1000.

Written for HorsesAss. Cross-posted at Group News Blog.

There's more...

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Pain: Pt. 5


LOLCAT Weekly Roundup 10, courtesy of Maggie Jochild's Meta Watershed.

Emergency Root Canal

This afternoon I'm having an emergency root canal.

Two months ago I wrote pretty much these same words. It had been ten years before that when I'd previously had root canal.

Now it's been two months. In two days, I start driving for Denver.

SUCKS. Hurts enormously. Like someone hitting me in the face with a pipe.
Not to mention enormous expense which is again, NOT budgeted for.
Again, ouch.

This would be a good time for anyone who promised to donate in August and hasn't yet, to get their donation in. Note that I'm not starting a new fundraising drive. I'm just reminding people of existing promises. *smiles sweetly*

Don't have to write a new post on pain, nope... Two months ago:

It's been over ten years since I had an emergency tooth extraction. It was an emergency because the infection had gone too far for a root canal, and the pain was so intense I thought someone was beating me in the face with a pipe.

This is rapidly approaching that level of pain, and that's in the face of MASSIVE loads of penicillin, as well as three different pain medications along with drugs designed to ease how the pain meds work. (My pain doc just approved my increasing my major pain drug to almost double for three days.)

Feels precisely like someone is hitting me in the face with a one-inch pipe. (The scar on my left lower chin.) WHAM.

This is what Lower Manhattanite went through back in April. THE FUCKING PAIN... Pain: Pt. 2
And even after LM wrote his beautiful post over the weekend about dealing with people with disabilities, THE TITLE OF WHICH SHOULD CLUE PEOPLE IN...

Some Consideration, Please?

Some people persist in nagging me...

STOP IT. I HAVE A MOTHER.


One of the larger pieces of bullshit disabled people often are hit with is, people who try and control us "for our own good."

"But Jesse... I was only trying to help. I thought we were FRIENDS." Gods... I can hear it right now.

Friends don't pull shit like that. Friends respect personal boundaries. Friends don't play concern troll with my health.

"Is this one of those times, Jesse, when you're not really angry at me? It seems to me that you've maybe taken a little too much of your meds and are having a reaction. You remember: just like that time last winter when you had to apologize to everyone. You just seem... off."

Wow... talk about misreading the space consistently.

How about, I wasn't mad, I wasn't even thinking about her/him. I was thinking about something else entirely. But it took 5 minutes to convince this person of that because s/he was CERTAIN that I MUST be thinking about her/him. Because of course my entire world at all times of the day and night, revolves around this person. 'Cause clearly, this non-family member whom I hadn't seen in person for a while, is my life.

Clue: Unless you're one of my REAL friends, one of the rare people whom a person who is seriously disabled TRUSTS, and actually invites (with words which come out of their actual mouth or hands, not imaginary conversations you have alone in your head) into their inner life to assist them in dealing with their disability... UNLESS that happens, what is really going on with me/the disabled person, is NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS.

If we want your help beyond a polite "Can I help you" we'll ASK. Otherwise, leave it alone.

Now pardon me... this cripple has to go get a car repair done, then have a root canal.

I'll do all that today without a single person at the car repair shop asking me if my medications are messed up, or if I need someone to make sure I don't injury myself as I hobble my way to my car. (They're just happy to take my money.)

This cripple will manage it by himself, searing jaw pain and all.

I'll let Maggie have the last word. I'm too angry. Gee Gidge... must be my medications.
Meta Watershed

Disability 101

If you suspect someone needs assistance in some way (and please, please, base this on their actual behavior and body language, not just the fact that they are disabled in some visible way), then simply ask "Would you like some help?" just like you would with anyone else. If they say "No", let it go, for g*d's sake. If they say "Yes", ask what kind of help they'd prefer. Use your common sense. Do not call the police or paramedics unless you've been asked to do so. (This is not a joke -- people in power chairs with certain kinds of movement disability often have to deal with strangers freaking out that they are in public on their own and calling 911).

Two major no-nos:
(1) Don't offer advice. No matter what. We LIVE with our bodies, we have thought of EVERYTHING that might pop into your head. It's not a sign of caring, it's a sign of your discomfort or panic at having to deal with what is ordinary reality to us.
(2) We're not here to satisfy your curiosity about "what happened" to us. If you're a good friend or family member who might possibly have the right to ask a personal question of someone with a disability, use the rule of thumb you'd apply when asking them who their baby's real father is or how much money they make each month. (Yeah, it's that personal.) Otherwise, turn your attention elsewhere. And if you ARE invited to ask questions, last on your list should be "What's wrong with you?" NOTHING is "wrong" wth us.

There's more...
There's more...

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Pain: Pt. 4


LOLCAT Weekly Roundup 10, courtesy of Maggie Jochild's Meta Watershed.

Emergency Root Canal

Tomorrow afternoon I'm having an emergency root canal.

Till after it is done and this pain goes away, I'm pretty much off line.

It's been over ten years since I had an emergency tooth extraction. It was an emergency because the infection had gone too far for a root canal, and the pain was so intense I thought someone was beating me in the face with a pipe.

This is rapidly approaching that level of pain, and that's in the face of MASSIVE loads of penicillin, as well as three different pain medications along with drugs designed to ease how the pain meds work. (My pain doc just approved my increasing my major pain drug to almost double for three days.)

Feels precisely like someone is hitting me in the face with a one-inch pipe. (The scar on my left lower chin.) WHAM.

This is what Lower Manhattanite went through back in April. THE FUCKING PAIN... Pain: Pt. 2

I almost drove my car into a fucking bridge abutment back in the late 90s when I had no health insurance and was out of my goddamn head with the pain. I would have done almost anything, up to and including taking my head off, to just.make.it.stop.

I have dental insurance now; didn't then. I had to wait a day or two for the money to be transfered from Arizona from Mom to pay for the extraction, all the while reminding myself I had four children.

People used to die from dental infections (and poor people sometimes still do.)

Tomorrow. Root canal. (No dying, thank you very much.)

Till then, my pain and I are just lying here, watching old familiar DVD's and doing as little as possible. Sleeping even. If you have a genuinely urgent email I might respond. Most likely I'll get back to you Friday or Saturday. Or Monday. Sometime very much not now. If it is urgent, call me.

All Gods and that which can not be spoken of, bless Dentists, therapists of all types, and people who take care of people who are in pain.

There's more...

Sunday, May 25, 2008

The Creator


Available Sunday's at Salon. Click for LARGE.

Damn straight. See every post on pain ever written at GNB.

It's 6 am. Time for my morning pain meds. (And going back to sleep. I won't be able to write worth a damn for a few hours.)

After which I'm heading over to a sports bar to drink Coke-Cola™ and watch Danica Patrick kick everyone's ass. (Qualified in fifth place with a speed of 225.197 mph, roughly 1.2 mph slower than the pole position.) The 92nd Indianapolis 500 starts at noon/9 am ET/PT, and I plan to watch it all.

Tradition. *smiles*

Open Thread:

1. Are you taking meds today and if so, for what? (No need to name the med.)

2. What are you drinking?

3. What are your plans for today? (And tomorrow, Memorial day?)

4. Danica, and any other sports conversation.

No politics please. *smiles*

There's more...

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Pain: Pt. 3


Meta Watershed: LOL Weekly Roundup

“Ouch!” (We're still healing...)

Quick update on your intrepid bloggers. And other notes.

LM had his dental surgery Thursday as scheduled.

Lots of ice, rest, taking his meds, watching old comedies, being a good patient.

He's recovering well, if posting a tad too much while still in pain. (And yes, as he pointed out, the Sean Bell verdict came in when it did. So he posted. Still. Take it easy, dammit. You're recovering from fracking surgery. “Doc” has spoken.)

*waves to LM sweetly*

As for me, I met with the pain doc Tuesday as scheduled. I am also recovering, and hope to resume a quarter-normal posting schedule late next week.

We -- my medical team and I -- think we have a fix, but it's been three, increasingly long months. Last month was the worst month I can remember having in, well, a long time. Probably a year and a half, back while I was still not myself quite yet. Pain is rated on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the worst. Each month when you visit the pain doctor, you answer a number of different question sets, in order to draw out a baseline over time.

One of these questions sets is:

What is your current pain level?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

What was your worst pain in the last week?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

What was your least pain in the last week?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

What was your average pain in the last week?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Normally, I average -- this, mind you, even with all the medications I take -- about a 4. We try and keep me in a range where I don't peak above 6, with lows of 0-2 pain; that's a good week (month.) This is normal for me, as much as I have a normal.

Three months ago my minimum pain was 4 with breakthrough pain up to 8. Two months ago I averaged 6 with peaks to 8. Last month I averaged 8 peaking to 10. Everyone who is around me closely, noticed. Bad month. Bad. *smiles*

This month my pain doc and I aren't getting fancy, we're just hitting the pain head on with more of the same drugs already known to work with me. So far, so good. My pain levels are dropping and associated issues are getting back under control.

If all goes well, sometime next week, I'll likely start posting again. Not at my normal pace; taking it easy. Now I'm still waiting to see if the meds really do bring the pain levels all the way back down to normal.

'Cause we sure as hell don't want the pain levels going up to an eleven.

Hmmm... I wrote about that once.

Group News Blog

“Ooooowww... Fuck!”

Furthermore, the numbers all go to eleven. Look, right across the board, eleven, eleven, eleven. Most blokes you know, will be torturing at ten. You're on ten here, all the way up, all the way up, all the way up, you're on ten. Where can you go from there? Where? Nowhere. Exactly. What we do with the Raytheon ray-gun if we need that extra push over the cliff, you know what we do? Put it up to eleven. Exactly. One more painful.

There's more...
Bottom line... If you need time to get well, take it.

The rule at GNB is, wellbeing comes first. Period.

All of us at one time or another have taken a break to handle life issues. We love journalism, and we love you, but in order to do any of that, we must take care of ourselves -- and honor our parents, too. (Yes, I did talk with my Mom today, thanks for asking. And thanks again for those wonderful photos from your trip to Tucson. [That was a shout out to a regular whom I'm not going to mention.] But if you take a trip to Tucson, you can score with me by sending photos. I'm just saying I miss Tucson. Still. Always.)

People ask me sometimes, “what is it that makes GNB fundamentally different from other blogs?” Is it that people here are so smart? Or classy? That our men and women are so damn sexy? Our military coverage?

All these help. And yes, we inherited Steve's legacy. But more than all this, it's that at Group News Blog, we are profoundly committed to making sure people are left taken care of, in the interactions they have here. A year ago right now, the heart of who GNB is now was forming, as we worked together to make sure communication stayed in, and that everyone was taken care of, that people remembered to breathe.

You're our people.

We're in our tenth month, and committed to taking care of you.

Thank you for being here.
There's more...

Monday, April 21, 2008

Pain: Pt. 2

Not As Bad As Pt. 1 BUT STILL DEBILITATING.

Ren Höek Suffering In Dental Pain While Trying To Sleep—Just Like Me.

I'm posting this from a radio station across the street from my dentist's office.


I'm waiting for a prescription to be filled. I am in a word, in AGONY.


I have great teeth, having never gotten a cavity until two years ago—a pretty good track record of forty-plus years with “no drillin'/no fillin”.

But it is my gums that have betrayed me. or rather—one section of my gums.

I've had an issue with a “pocket”—an area where there is a gap between the tooth and gum (lower right, second tooth from the back), and there is a bit of bone loss there. The tooth itself is fine, it's the underlying bone 'neath the gum line that is the issue. Where that should be, is a space. And into that space drifts stray bacteria and gunk that all my brushing, flossing and “swording” cannot penetrate.

Last Tuesday, I felt a bit of discomfort. By Thursday, it was a dull ache. By Friday, it felt like The Mole Man himself and his minions were tunneling into my jaw to hide from Reed Richards and The Fantastic Four.

The area was inflamed. I brushed, and Water-Pik-ed. I flossed. I gargled with warm salt water, regular Listerine, then Hydrogen Peroxide. I could feel the inflammation de-stabilizing the tooth itself. There was a palpable “heat” from the obvious infection. I began gulping ibuprofen every four hours to get through the day. My tolerance has built up considerably to where after the medicine kicks in—which takes about an hour—it then works for an hour, and then I feel it cycling off for the next two. And then it's another two pills.

I couldn't sleep. The throbbing was too much. Every four hours. Brush, gargle with three solutions, then pills.

Made an emergency appointment with the dentist last night for today. Saw 'em.

I will need gum and bone replenishment surgery to finally fix the pocket. I asked them if they could just “take the tooth out” because it hurt so much but the reply was. “We don't remove healthy teeth. Your tooth is fine, it's the underlying oral structure that's at issue.”

Which made a painful bit of sense.

Therefore, on Thursday, I will be back to see the oral surgeon after the antibiotics I have been prescribed kicks in. The swelling in my gum should have faded a bit, as will hopefully, the pain. The enhanced painkillers he scripted will help me to sleep a little and maybe release my waking mind from the waves and stabs that distract me so.

I have a pretty high pain threshold. I don't moan, I don't cry. I just get through it. But this is some next level shit. I swear, when the doc poked around in there a little while ago, it took everything I had in me to relax my body and not cringe into a fetal ball from the probe's jabs. Just biting down on the oral reflector to enable the X-ray they did nearly blacked me out. I've dislocated both of my shoulders, nearly broken an ankle, been knocked unconscious while boxing as a teen, and been blindside tackled by a 270 lb offensive lineman who thought I'd slept with his girlfriend.

Much as those things hurt, THIS pain kicks them all in the ass. It's an almost exquisite pain. Chameleon-like in its way. It can at one minute feel like a cold butter knife slowly being wedged between tooth and gum and then levered up and down to dislodge the tooth to a dirge-y rhythm. Then it can quickly morph into something that feels like Bruce Lee windmilling an “Enter The Dragion” nunchaku ballet on the area with steel-studded, brine-soaked “chuks”.

That last sensation almost blacked my ass out early Saturday morning. The nervous system is one hellafied machine.

I'm hoping to be on my way to being rid of this beast by this Thursday. I hope so. My mental “thought collecting/word-find” features are very much blocked out by this hurt. Trying to be light, I joked with the dentist's receptionist through my swollen jaw that I considered pulling a “Tom Hanks” move—his bit from Cast Away where while suffering with a badly infected tooth, he removes it brutally with a blow from an ice skate's blade edge.

Lonnie the receptionist didn't laugh. She looked at me seriously and said. “Don't joke. People do silly stuff like that over a long weekend when we can't help 'em.”

Her aide de camp behind the desk nodded affirmatively and ruefully.

Which brings me to this: There have been numerous horror stories—not fables or urban legends, but REAL HORROR STORIES about how folks without adequate insurance can find themselves not just in unbearable pain from a simple, yet nerve-torching malady like mine, but actually fucking DEAD from it. Whatever your feelings about this campaign season, and the people involved in it, one of the next goals I see for us hated online folk to embark upon is a concerted effort to get decent health care to as many Americans as is humanly possible. In the early nineties when the first initiatives on this were effectively and proudly “drowned in the bathtub” there wasn't the rapid-fire, mass-response ability that we have nowadays. I went into and out of my dentist's office today, had X-rays, an exam and was prescribed an antibiotic script and paid exactly $10—and that was for the prescription itself. The emergency visit was free. The oral surgery will be a few hundred dollars. I got a phone call from a pollster about two months ago asking all sorts of detailed questions about health care in New York state. Did I agree with the idea of revamping the system? Should the state take a stronger role? Should the federal government get involved? Would I pay an extra $40 a year to help subsidize the care? $50 dollars more? $60 dollars more? The pollster didn't appreciate my off-script reply “What's that? Two 7-Day “Unlimited Travel” Metrocards? A few frosty Starbucks beverages? C'mon man.”

Having health insurance is a blessing. And a blessing isn't a thing you can count on. Decent health care is the one thing you shouldn't have to pray you can have access to.—what with the basics of said care being in many cases the simple difference between life and death.

People die from stuff like this—as noted in the Deamonte Driver tragedy from last spring and another case here in NY a couple of years before, another under-medicalized child.

Along with FISA, and the war and all the other gaudy, brightly lit things we scrap for online, this one is as important as any of them, and strikes at our very cores—our physical bodies and the health maintenance of them.

I got help today, and will get the rest later this week and hopefully, and I do mean hopefully my pain will be alleviated. But for every “me” who can get the care, there are countless others who will suffer for days, and weeks, and months in spiraling pain and equally spiraling ill health.

Let's work on that, too. Blogswarms are fun and all for all the bright and shiny things. But some hardcore action on this issue would be a truly wonderful thing.

Now, with that—my prescriptions are ready. And hopefully this pain is ready to go.

There's more...

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Pain


"Open Mouth Buddha, shedding Black Tears" Click for LARGE.
2007, Gallery #19, # 6915 - Kazuya Akimoto Art Museum.


Kyle and I were cleaning my room tonight. Hurt my back.

Nothing serious, but damn it hurts when it hurts.

In my head, I'm 30. *sighs* My body just doesn't play along. Grrrr.

Good news is, my bed is now clean. It had 20+ books, and a stack of magazines piled high. Now my bed's made neatly. I could stretch out before; now I can stretch way out.

I owe three people/magazine/journals, articles or notes on stuff they're writing. Plus I'm way behind in posting here at GNB. I've been sick (in pain or actually ill) off and on the last two months. Mostly pain stuff, which my medical team and I are trying to get a grip on. It lays me up for days and days at a time; I've pretty much given up explaining what's going on to anyone but my inner circle.

This month, I've been taking Opana on a trial basis -- in addition to my regular pain meds. While the pain control has been good, Opana's side effects haven't been good at all. The good news is, just as in when you're making a change in any operating system, you make ONE change at a time. I've been very stable in my, i.e.: the baseline which is "Jesse", for a while now. Unlike say, several years ago, or worse, back in 2001-2002 when I had just had the neurosurgery and was completely in the fog. So when the Opana threw me off a bit, in some very specific ways, I was able to sort out what was going on, fairly quickly and report.

After meeting with a key member of my medical team today (er, yesterday -- Monday) we've put the med on my allergic/contraindicated list:

  • Neurontin (gabapentin)
  • Effexor (venlafaxine hydrocholride)
  • Celexa (citalopram)
  • Lyrica (pregabalin)
  • Opana (oxymorphone HCI)
All five of these meds were either directly to treat pain, or for helping my nerve's electrical system work better. In some cases, both. FAIL.

It took years to work out the medications I'm on now. YEARS. And when pain happens which isn't controlled -- as I currently have in my right hip (from the car accident) which impacts my ability to walk (from an old ski injury on my left knee) -- it takes a while to figure out precisely how to control the pain. It's vastly more important to get it right, than to throw any damn thing up there.

Why?

Because these chemicals impact your brain. They change who "you" are. Literally, too much, too little, the wrong dose, the wrong med, and "you" go away. Who is there? Not you, sucker.

Maybe a younger version of you (an emotional teenager or twenty year old) with the memories you have? Maybe a paranoid, someone who is violent or repressed, asexual or very sexual, scared or angry, dominating or with almost no emotions...

Pouring brain-altering medicines directly into the bloodstream, fracks with who you are, right now. And "you" won't know it unless you and your entire medical team:
  • has a long base-line on who "you" are,
  • is actively looking for changes,
  • is super-competent to detect changes,
  • you have a support structure at home, work, and with your medical team prepared to work with you as the medicine is adjusted till it works properly, and is unafraid of changes in "you", and
  • confident in their and your ability to return you to baseline.
Once, shortly after someone learned that I take pain meds, this asshole (who I was fighting with at the time) talked about my health in one of her/his comments to me, saying in effect, "I just don't trust your judgment anymore. Maybe your meds are off?" It wasn't a friend doing me a favor; it was a fuck-you. I blew that person off forever. Done.

Chronic pain patients; chronic patients of all kinds, do what we can do, when we can do it. The adjustments take however long they take. I write what I can, when I can. Pain is there till my Team and I figure out a way to make it go away, without taking "me" with it (or regressing or losing "me" in the process.) I am one of the key parts of all of this. Only my children, I, and a few key members of my medical team, can tell my Team as a whole, if "I" am still there. Which means sometimes, I have to trust, for example, Kyle's judgment or my therapist's judgment, over my own. Even when I am certain about something, if they say otherwise, under certain circumstances (like after certain med changes), we go with their assessment as to who I'm being, over mine.

I never lose sight of how fortunate I am. I have medical insurance. Good medical insurance. It pay co-pays at Tiers 1, 2 & 3. Even though I have to pay over $200 a month in prescription co-pays, I can handle that. This new tier 4 & 5 pricing as talked about today in The New York Times would make it impossible for me and others so situated to survive my kind of pain. Self-medication (a slow suicide) is the traditional option... booze and street-drugs. These not only cost too much -- thousands of dollars a month -- but they work poorly, as well as causing massive damage to one's body. In many cases they are illegal.

I have friends who were hooked on horse for years. Decades in one case. Decent pain medications are a recent deal. And you need money; the poor and working class don't get the good shit. They get booze and street drugs, as our fathers and grand-parents did after their wars. Want the good stuff? You'd better be middle to upper-class, or owning class. Then you can have decent drugs, legal drugs, and not worry about getting busted, keep your job, and be able to afford everything through your health plan.

Did I say drugs? I meant, medicine.

Enough. Time to sleep on my big clean bed, let the pain flush away.
There's more...

Monday, September 24, 2007

Puget Sound - "Power Over Pain” Advocacy Day - Olympia, September 28th


Comic Dan Collins Cartoons (click for full size)

Pain Advocacy Day at the Washington State Capital

Pain, pain, pain... PAIN!

The largest lobbying event for pain suffers in Washington State history will be held Friday, September 28, at the State Capital in Olympia.

  • This is personal to me.
  • I'm a chronic pain patient.
  • Without access to adequate pain control, I can NOT function.
  • With adequate pain control, most of the time -- key word..."most" -- I lead a life which appears -- key word... "appears" -- to be normal.
  • Practically speaking, with adequate pain control, most of the time I can work, live my life, spend time with my family, be in the world like everyone. Except when there is "break-through pain." (A technical term.) ...Then, things, and by things I mean me, stop working.

Here are some stats, some numbers.

After a page or so of the facts, I'll get back to giving you what this means in my life, how pain truly IMPACTS a person day-to-day, how desperately fucked up life can get when you live with pain month after month, year after year. Stick around... it's a bad-ass story. But first, the facts...

Here's what the American Pain Foundation says.

Seventy-five million Americans suffer from pain. Most fail to receive adequate treatment.

Highlights from the National Center for Health Statistics Report: Health, United States, 2006, Special Feature on Pain

More than one-quarter of Americans (26%) age 20 years and over - or, an estimated 76.5 million Americans - report that they have had a problem with pain of any sort that persisted for more than 24 hours in duration. [NOTE: this number does not account for acute pain]

Adults age 45-64 years were the most likely to report pain lasting more than 24 hours (30%). Twenty-five percent (25%) of young adults age 20-44 reported pain, and adults age 65 and over were the least likely to report pain (21%).

More women (27.1%) than men (24.4%) reported that they were in pain.

Non-Hispanic white adults reported pain more often than adults of other races and ethnicities (27.8% vs. 22.1% Black only or 15.3% Mexican).

Adults living in families with income less than twice the poverty level reported pain more often than higher income adult.

Adults 20 years of age and over who report pain said that it lasted:
  • Less than one month – 32%
  • One to three months – 12%
  • Three months to one year – 14%
  • Longer than one year – 42%
The Burden of Pain on Every Day Life
  • The annual cost of chronic pain in the United States, including healthcare expenses, lost income, and lost productivity, is estimated to be $100 billion.2
  • More than half of all hospitalized patients experienced pain in the last days of their lives3 and although therapies are present to alleviate most pain for those dying of cancer, research shows that 50-75% of patients die in moderate to severe pain.4
  • An estimated 20% of American adults (42 million people) report that pain or physical discomfort disrupts their sleep a few nights a week or more.5
Commonly-Reported Pain Conditions
  • When asked about four common types of pain, respondents of a National Institute of Health Statistics survey indicated that low back pain was the most common (27%), followed by severe headache or migraine pain (15%), neck pain (15%) and facial ache or pain (4%).6
  • Back pain is the leading cause of disability in Americans under 45 years old. More than 26 million Americans between the ages of 20-64 experience frequent back pain.7
  • Adults with low back pain are often in worse physical and mental health than people who do not have low back pain: 28% of adults with low back pain report limited activity due to a chronic condition, as compared to 10% of adults who do not have low back pain. Also, adults reporting low back pain were three times as likely to be in fair or poor health and more than four times as likely to experience serious psychological distress as people without low back pain.8
  • An estimated 70% of those with cancer experience significant pain during their illness, yet fewer than half receive adequate treatment for their pain.9
  • Painful knees and hips are common symptoms among older adults, with about 30% of adults 65 years of age and over reporting knee pain or stiffness in the past 30 days and 15% reporting hip pain or stiffness.
Disparities in Pain Care
  • African Americans and Hispanics are affected by racial profiling for diversion and under-treatment by some physicians. This is compounded by a lack of research on pain across racial and ethnic differences,17 as well as cultural attitudes toward pain care. In one study, more than 80% of African American patients and 80% of Hispanic patients waited until their pain severity was a 10 on a 10-point scale before calling their health care provider or oncology clinic for assistance with pain management.18
  • Elders are among the most undertreated for pain.19 Of the community-dwelling elder population, 25-50% can expect to suffer pain.20 Among institutionalized elders, 71-83% report at least one pain problem.21
  • Unfortunately, under-treatment of pain in the pediatric population is worse than that for adults, including elders. Only recently has the FDA required new medications be evaluated for efficacy and safety in the pediatric population. In one study, 65% of children younger than 2 years old went without pain medications compared to 48% of older children up to 10 years.22
  • Gender is also a bias in pain assessment and treatment. Women seek help for pain more frequently than men, but are less likely to receive treatment. Physicians often assume either that women can handle more pain or that they are exaggerating the level of pain they experience.23 Women are more likely to be given sedatives for their pain while men are more likely to be given analgesics.24
  • Historically, the medical literature has portrayed women as hysterical and oversensitive. By extension, physicians often view women’s statements as emotional, rather than objective. In one study of patients with chronic pain, female patients were more likely than their male counterparts to be diagnosed with histrionic disorder, excessive emotionality, and attention-seeking behavior.25
  • Studies of VA patients show that the pain of veterans is significantly worse than that of the general public.26,27 A higher incidence of pain in veterans was anticipated compared with the general public because of the greater exposure to trauma and psychological stress,28 both of which increase pain and compound therapy.
Please click here for references.

So...

What does it mean?

What do all these statistics and study results mean? That's what bloggers do, right? Take something vast and make it personal.

Yeah. In a moment perhaps. First, if you've ever been in real pain, even for a little bit, you don't need me to tell you how you Just.Wanted.It.To.STOP.

Now imagine that round the clock. Waking you up. Unable to work. Unable to bend over and tie your shoes or put on a shirt? Sit up in bed without help? Unable to even wipe your own ass because you can't twist around without screaming from the freaking pain. How you like your quality of life now?

Welcome to chronic pain. Now say hello to pain medications; they are your friend.

Jesse's Story

With pain meds, I live a normal life. Ride my bike, drive my car, go to work (most days), and sleep through the night only waking up twice to take more pain meds (instead of 4-5 times a night, yelping.) I have a life.

My doctors and I worked for over seven years to get the precise set of medicines I use, correct. Along the way I went so far round the bend on some of the poorly adjusted drugs, the person in my body, based on reactions to improperly set meds and my own deep-triggered patterns, acted out behaviors so inappropriate I could have been jailed.

The drugs used to treat chronic pain act directly on the brain and biology at the core of one's self. They not only knock out pain receptors, but in the case of the supporting medications, they alter who we are as human beings. Who I am was changed for years because of the meds I was on.

Eventually I and my therapist figured out I wasn't the same person I'd been before he'd ever met me. I'd lost track years before and to say "I'd lost track" is misleading -- it was no longer "I" talking or knowing, but a different self created by the combination of medication and emotional & physical triggering loaded in my body and living my life; beat that shit with a stick. My own children knew something was "wrong with Daddy" but even they didn't fully grasp how badly I was off and neither did I. All I knew was how much I hurt. I didn't know I wasn't "me," even though I was doing things I hadn't done in 20-30 years. To say I wasn't myself... yeah, literally I wasn't myself or in control of my own body for about five years. I didn't even know I wasn't along for the ride till the first four years has passed.

Now there was more going on with me in the beginning than just poorly adjusted medications. But there usually is in chronic pain patients. That's why we're chronic pain patients. I was drinking heavily because the pain meds I was on weren't enough to handle how much I hurt, in every sense of the word. In Dec 2001 I had neurosurgery, leaving me physically in agony for close to a year. In May 2003 was the suicide attempt and its aftermath. In Nov 2003 I was in a major car accident, which still hurts every day still. All these confused the issue and left my doctors and I playing catch up.

Therapy resolved the issues with my past. I stopped drinking as we got some control over the physical and emotional pain. Eventually, as we lowered the dosage on the pain meds and the fog lifted, it slowly, painfully, over many months became clear that my actions for the last years had been massively inconsistent with the self I'd always known myself to be before the original work injury in 1999; that that "me" I'd been being was just off, and not in a good way. And further, that neither I or anyone around me had known.

It took a year, start to finish. First we had to find the right pain management doctor, an experienced physician specializing in pain management, in order to make a difference. Then I had to get on his schedule, which took months; there aren't many of them and their schedules are always full. Then more and more months; careful, painstaking, session after session, back-stopped by a clinical psychologist who knows me to my core.

After seven years of suffering, we changed my med package. My pain drugs, not just the narcotics, but the supporting medicines which allow both the narcotic and non-narcotic pain drugs to achieve their best impact, the sequencing, dosages, types and loading of these medications were changed, along with new meds being added. It took an entire goddamn year.

Changing my medicine package changed who I was and am. And surprise -- Jesse came back for the first time in almost five years. This all in the last year.

You think you know who Jesse "Doc" Wendel is? Listen... I don't even know some of the time. If I have an off day or week with my meds, I am not the same guy. Just under three years ago I passed a car between the HOV lane and the jersey barrier at 110 mph with six inches on either side screaming incoherent obscenities. My then 11 year-old son David was strapped in the front seat. Why was I angry? He just pissed me off; I don't know. This weaving through rush hour on Interstate-405 leaving Bellevue. A State Trooper pulled me over half a mile later as flat-out angry as I've ever seen a Trooper. Gave me the maximum possible non-criminal citation possible ($532 if I remember correctly, plus my insurance tripled for three years) and that only because I played the "I'm a paramedic" card. Originally the Trooper was going to jail me for reckless driving.

This is, by the standards of the last years, a tame story; I might have gone to jail for only 90 days. It was the Effexor we were trying; bad reaction. Effexor causes massive rage in me. How you like them apples? I stopped the Effexor within 48 hours; two days later I was fine. My point is there were many hit and miss attempts for years getting things right. Enough clearly messed with who I was, while others worked or seemed to maybe work, that over time we got much of the pain under control. More importantly, we eventually got to where my medical team and I sniffed just a whiff that perhaps the "I" who is Jesse wasn't really who I should be. That the drugs I was taking were altering me in some subtle way above mere pain control. That's when the conversation got interesting; my care required someone who knew precisely what pain management and they were about; a genuine specialist.

I love my primary care physician and the rest of my medical team. They are good, caring, talented people, quite literally the best doctors in their field in Puget Sound, in many cases, in the western United States. I'm not an amateur at picking talented people and in the field of medicine I know what I'm looking for. I have amazing people working to keep me healthy. None the less, it took an authentic specialist in this new discipline of pain management. A physician whose only practice is pain management to fix what was happening with me. We don't ask family practice doctor's to perform neurosurgery and we don't ask neurosurgeons to treat children for well-baby checks and back-t0-school physicals.

Pain management requires monthly care (or more) from a physician at the top of their game. It's that simple.

Pain Doesn't Have To Happen Any More

Pain drugs are a miracle. They save lives as surely as CPR, surgeons, cancer checkups, vaccinations and paramedics. And for enormously less cost in the long run as a body which hurts continues to break down physically and emotionally, and fails to be able to contribute to society. I haven't even mentioned the cost on the families of chronic pain patients.

By any objective standard, treating pain is by far the least expensive option possible.

Pain treatment just makes sense, not to mention being humane. We wouldn't let a puppy suffer like the State lets old people, children and the hurting suffer day and night, week and month and years. Yet in the name of a few bucks, the State of Washington wants to let people you know have their lives be destroyed in bitter agony. It simply isn't right.

Pain is a horrible monster. To be trapped in a body that hurts...

In their blindness, the politicians and administrators of the State of Washington are attempting to balance part of their budget on the backs of people on pain control. This is not just stupid. It's mean.

Last week I interviewed Dr. John Baumeister, D.O., Founding President, Washington Academy of Pain Management and widely considered one of the leading specialists in pain management in Puget Sound. (Disclosure: Dr. Baumeister in my pain management physician. He's the doctor who finally nailed my meds and along with my therapist, brought me back to being me.)
Dr. Baumeister

The State Legislature told the State Agencies to cut costs by "coordinating medical care."

Their first and primary effort has been to produce a guideline outlining efforts to cut costs by addressing the prescribing of narcotics for pain.

The Chair of the Agency Medical Director's Group, Gary Franklin, MD, MPH, and Governor Chris Gregoire have failed to listen to physician concerns over this new guideline.

By the committee's own report, 6,800 chronic pain patients will be required to obtain annual consults from pain management physicians. There are few pain management practices in the state and their practices are full. Thus the guideline represents constructive denial of care.

It will cause people pain.
Pain is a disease.

Pain works through causing your nerves to reorganize themselves, like plastic under a heat lamp, the plasticity of the organism flowing to allow new nervous pathways to form. These new pathways are not necessarily optimal for you, the patient. They are designed to let your body survive the injury and communicate "Hey, this hurts," long after the actual injury is gone.

In 1980 when I was training as a paramedic, pain management didn't exist. It is a new discipline. The federal and state governments -- like most people in power -- received their training of what works and what doesn't, long ago and aren't keeping up with current technique. They come from a time when people were expected to just "tough it up" and "be a man."

Except this is precisely the exactly wrong approach to pain management. In a burn, the very first step in burn management is, "Stop the burning process" which is often going on under the skin hours after the apparent heat is gone. The first rule of pain management is, "Stop the pain."

Pain begets pain in a vicious circle. Stopping pain allows people to heal.

If you're in Washington State or near, I encourage you to show up in Olympia at the State Capital on Friday, September 28 and help fight for effective pain control.

Further information on Pain Advocacy Day Friday, September 28 in Olympia is available from Dionetta Hudzinski, RN, MN (HCP) or (509) 966-1986.

Help stop the pain. Fight ignorance.
There's more...