08 December, 2007


So the nameless doctor in a nameless place in a nameless state did the following for me: he gave me trigger-point injections in my lower back. The pain was so excruciating I almost bit through my clenched fist, and my screams(?)... sounds kind of effeminate... likely were heard by all the other patients. It was the worst pain I've ever experienced, and I've bruised a kidney, broken a wrist, and have had a really bad paper cut on my thumb. It was such that, when the doctor was done with my right side I said, "Don't do the other."

"But the treatment works best if we--"

"Don't do the other. I can't stand it."

I looked at the nurse, who was looking at the doctor -- I'll call him Dr. Hilarius -- and knew what was coming: five more stabs in the back.

Which is the best way to describe what Dr. Hilarius did for me overall. After giving the injections, he told me to get a prescription for 600mg of Lyrica per day, an increase from my then-current 400. And that's all he did.

I informed the nurse, who was the only one who would talk to me after the injections, that I take Percocet 10/325s (10mgs oxycodone, 325mgs acetaminophen) and, since the doctor had prescribed nothing (I was to get the Lyrica, even, from my general practitioner) I was going to go through withdrawal, and then the pain that returned was likely to be so unbearable that I was bound to think of suicide.

She talked to Hilarius outside my room and came back and had to report what Dr. H said:

"If you have any problems, just go to the ER."

...My parents had told me that he was the only pain specialist in town, and that I had to deal with him for better or worse. So I held my tongue... After I said

"Well, could you please tell him that it's extremely negligent on his part to let a patient go through withdrawal -- and especially one with a history of suicidal ideation?"

The nurse left and came back:

"The doctor says you can get the narcotics through your family doctor. Otherwise, I guess you just have to go to the hospital."

And I held my tongue.

Next week I see a psychologist at the same treatment center. I have come to the early conclusion that I am trapped in a pain management center that manages pain by increasing it or letting it be.

Whenever I enter the clinic doors, I'll be surrounded by doctors who do not believe in practicing medicine.

[Not bad for today... Left a lot out, though. I'll have to tell you about how I now have 150 Percocet tabs, at the cost of being dumped by my GP. In Bush's America, no one wants to prescribe narcotics. They could end up in Bush's niece's hands! (Was it his niece that had the jones for Xanax? ...Anyway...)

Pain: 5/10.

Anxiety: 8/10.

--Anxiety is a new one! Which reminds me to tell you about the shrink I visited November 27th! Wow. It was classic. I've never come so close to hitting someone.

So you have a lot to look forward to. If my Dad still had some Provigil, this would go a lot faster. Oh well -- the suspense builds!]

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