This is terrifying to me. Putting aside the issue of crimethink, I was stuck in a hospital (and later nursing home) for a number of weeks because I required 24/7 palliative care. Between the pain itself and the incredible amount of Dilaudid they had to keep circulating through my system even as I slept, I was completely out of my goddamned mind. I couldn’t make my own medical decisions because much of the time I was delirious, and even when I seemed alert, I had very little grasp on what was happening to me. (I refused food for a full two weeks, all the while complaining that the nurses were starving me.)
My short term memory was shot (I ended up being blessed with permanent amnesia), and I was an absolute fucking bitch, screaming all sorts of abusive things at every female who came in contact with me. (Yes, just the women, apparently.)
I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I’m normally the world’s most charismatic patient, but between the pain and the drugs and the trauma (both physical and emotional), I was an absolute hellion to the poor people at the hospital. (From what I understand, the nursing home staff deserved me.)
I didn’t have any mental health issue to help account for my behavior, and it wasn’t until I was readmitted (a few weeks after my release) that they realized the extent to which my “medically-induced psychosis” had influenced my behavior. (One of the palliative care nurses confided in me that she’d assumed I was just a bitch.)
So yeah, the idea of being abandoned to that kind of suffering and ultimately left to die of shock both terrifies and angers me.
Private response to a Danielle Stella tweet:
There needs to be a congressional investigation into the tactics being used to prosecute — or rather PERSECUTE — specialists who prescribe pain medications. The DOJ is having doctors testify in court who have ZERO experience treating the conditions for which these drugs are being prescribed, with many of them being hired to work as full-time consultants STRAIGHT OUT OF MED SCHOOL.
I have been fortunate that my neurologist is still willing to treat my pain, as his practice has otherwise ceased prescribing opioid medications. Yet he cut my dosage IN HALF after two of his colleagues were sentenced to federal prison DESPITE ADHERING TO CDC GUIDELINES.
(He told me he had three daughters, two in college, and that he couldn’t afford to go to prison.)
The DOJ simply had their pets testify that certain patients COULD have been treated with lower doses than were prescribed, and in at least one case they claimed not enough alternative forms of pain management had been explored before resorting to opioids.
The government is FLAGRANTLY interfering in our medical care in response to a media-manufactured crisis that politicians from BOTH sides of the aisle have eagerly exploited for the PR points.
Because who wouldn’t want to help addicts who so obviously became addicted ThRoUgH nO fAuLt Of ThEiR oWn?
The reality is that in almost every case of overdose, at least one other substance was involved, or the user had otherwise failed to take as directed — if they were even using these meds under a doctor’s’ supervision. And many of them weren’t.
it’s scary enough to face the prospect of socialized medicine, and what would happen to me if my cancer should return. I underwent a series of unconventional surgeries that would certainly NOT have been covered under any government plan.
But I at least had opioids to manage my pain — which was so intense that they had to dose me even as I slept. The recovery was brutal. Withdrawal from the intravenous dilaudid to get back on to tramadal truly sucked — every time.
The aftermath hasn’t been easy. Since my pain medication was cut in half, I went from being able to perform activities that most people take for granted — shopping, driving, keeping up with friends — to being housebound.
But what truly terrifies me is the prospect of the cancer returning, the government dictating my course of treatment and the extent to which I am deemed worthy of pain management.
NOTE: Update to follow (eventually, I swear), because there’s a Part II to the genderqueef shit, and it’s seriously one of the craziest things I have ever seen from the Regressive Left. Which is saying quite a damned bit.
October has not been a month for friendship. My friends are dropping like flies — and it’s largely the fault of Lindsey Graham. He has released from within me an utter abhorrence for unethical shams.
About a dozen people have unfriended me on Facebook since the Christine Ford farce, and I’m pretty sure the majority of those who didn’t are no longer following me.
For the most part, I have been silently unfriended. By whom, it’s hard to tell, which suggests no major loss. But here are two cases in which I played an active role in the dissolution of a friendship — for better or for worse.