O P I N I O N
THE SOAPBOX
Stand up. Speak up. It’s your turn.
I am one of the other victims of the opioid and health care crisis that no one seems to remember or want to talk about. I am one of the people who actually medically needed an opioid for temporary major pain relief, but because of the epidemic in New Hampshire, I couldn’t get a prescription.
This past winter, I slipped and fell in a parking lot and got a major concussion and muscular injuries that caused lots of inflammation and extreme pain. I followed my doctor’s orders. I was given steroids and muscle relaxers, used ice where I could, heat where it felt good, rested a lot, went to physical therapy, specialists, steroid injections and took lots of Tylenol to try to fend off increasing pain. Due to a previous stomach surgery, I am usually advised against taking anti-inflammatory medications, but Tylenol doesn’t help with swelling. We tried some anti-inflammatories anyway with lots of antacids, along with doing anything and everything I could to ease my swelling and extreme pain. The swelling went down, but the acid issues appeared almost immediately even with dietary changes.
My pain was still intense and I was taking the maximum allowable Tylenol every day and being warned about liver damage. I begged for help from my primary care doctor. I was given more steroids and muscle relaxers. The pain persisted. I was referred to another specialist, more injections, more steroids. More pain, more fatigue, less sleep, more frustration, a 10-pound weight gain from the inactivity and steroids, confusion, side effects, depression and muscle atrophy. The pain was seriously intense and climbing.
I ended up in the Emergency Room twice, blind in one eye with pain off the charts and absolutely nothing was done for me. The first time, I was given two Tylenol for pain. The second time, I left after being unattended for three hours in excruciating pain and crying in the waiting room. I was literally blind from pain. I was told it was all in my head and to seek mental health counseling. Each time I saw a doctor and begged for help and asked what to do about the pain, they referred me elsewhere. I saw no less than five practitioners who passed the buck to someone else and finally back to my PCP.
I got desperate and advocated for myself and called or used my Online Patient Portal to update and complain about my situation and pain level everyday, sometimes multiple times a day. I actually got to the point where I could not take the pain anymore.
Logically, I knew I had so much to live for; a great life, wonderful family and friends, but being in extreme pain 24/7 was literally breaking my will to live. I reached out to anyone and everyone I could think of for help. Even if I was imagining my pain, I needed help. I contacted countless mental health agencies and providers just be told that there were no openings or that they couldn’t see me unless I was “actively suicidal.” Now I had nothing for physical or mental pain.
Eventually, I was sent for the right tests. We found the source of my pain and then I had to see another two specialists and wait another month after that for the correct procedure to fix the problem. Only then was I believed, that my pain was as bad as it was. Nobody wants to be responsible for writing a patient’s pain relief prescription anymore, therefore no patient can get any pain relief!
Why do they bother asking what the level of your pain is on a scale of 1 to 10 (with 10 being the worse imaginable) if they aren’t going to do anything about it? There was an initiative previously about “pain being the fifth vital sign.” With the opioid epidemic, nobody cares about your pain anymore, so they should just stop asking. It means absolutely nothing.
It isn’t always about addicts trying to get drugs, sometimes it’s about people with real pain trying to get relief. What if we hadn’t found the source of my pain? Would I still be suffering? Would I have taken my life? Would I still not be believed? In case you think that I don’t fully understand the opioid epidemic, here’s the twist: I understand that pain at a level deeper than any pain I had this year. I lost my beloved nephew and one of my all-time favorite people on the planet in 2011 to a heroin overdose. He was a great person from a good family with a good job and lots of friends. He had a great life, solid future and dreams. He got addicted to an opioid that he was given for a valid medical reason and the rest is the tragic story you’ve heard about a thousand times before. Everyone knows someone touched by this horrific mess.
In the end, I got a temporary opioid prescription for pain. I took 1/4 less than prescribed and only so that I could sleep or when I had to function or I thought I would lose my mind. While awaiting my procedure, I averaged taking about one a day so that I could have 4-6 hours of reduced pain. I am well aware of addiction and was determined not to be a statistic. Every day, I took an inventory of my pills and kept them in a safe place. Every couple of days, I updated my doctor about how I was doing and how many pills I had left.
When I had my procedure and no longer needed them, I safely destroyed the remainder. That is how you safely and responsibly handle opioid prescriptions. However, I could have become a different and unnecessary statistic, another suicide due to lack of compassion, pain relief and mental health services in New Hampshire.