Methadone Treatment Begins Tomorrow

Yep. This is going to be a post, on a blog called The Fibromyalgian, about fibromyalgia. What can I say (write)? It's a crazy world.

As I think I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm switching meds, most likely tomorrow, from Oxycodone to Methadone. Why tomorrow? Because I have an appointment with my pain management doctor tomorrow. Let's call her Dr. Not-Too-Damn-Bad, or Dr. NTDB for short. Or Dr. N for even shorter.

Dr. N is not too damn bad because she hasn't been afraid to prescribe me the dosages of painkillers I have required. She also came around on my Klonopin, and I'm on my necessary six mg per day, instead of the four mg she was previously stuck on. This is to her credit because every doctor is wary about prescribing a patient two central-nervous-system (CNS) depressants, which can result in the patient ceasing to breathe. And the vast majority of doctors like to keep their patients breathing.

The only problem I have with Dr. N is that she prescribes me Provigil for my chronic fatigue disorder. Before I came to Portland and began being treated by Dr. N, I had been taking Ritalin, which worked extremely well and, which is very important to someone who relies solely on Social Security Disability for his income, dirt cheap.

But Dr. N wasn't comfortable with prescribing speed to a fibromyalgian. It seems to her that speed and opiates and Klonopin are at odds with one another.

And I suppose I agree. But agreement doesn't make Provigil affordable. And so my chronic fatigue is left untreated.

On the first of October I will have Medicare. But Medicare doesn't help one out with prescription drug costs, and getting private insurance to help with my drug costs may actually be antithetical, since the cost of my monthly drug copays and drug insurance are likely to cost more than just buying my meds outright.

...Unless I start filling my Provigil, which costs something like four hundred and fifty dollars a month. Yeah. No typo: four hundred and fifty dollars a month.

Which reminds me to beg: Please help me get the treatment I need by donating. Please please please PUH-leeze! The button is right there... Right there on the right... And any amount helps! Any amount at all!

OK. begging done. On to the Methadone.

It's a tricky bastard of a drug because its half-life is longer than its active life. That is to say (write), that Methadone provides pain relief for a shorter time than it stays in one's system, in which it depresses breathing. So one has to be very OCD about one's Methadone schedule: If you're having a bad day and in a lot of pain and take more some Methadone to help you out, then take more... and maybe later some more, one can find oneself with enough Methadone in one's system to make their breathing cease before one's pain does.

Anyway, it's likely to be a good thing for me to be on Methadone. I'm currently taking so much Oxycodone that Dr. N doesn't feel comfortable prescribing a higher daily dose. For a patient to be taking one hundred and thirty mg of immediate-release Oxycodone per day could attract unwanted attention from the feds. But I can't take Oxycodone together with OxyContin (long-lasting oxycodone) because -- got a guess? -- OxyContin costs too much. That, and OxyContin is scarce because the feds are so overly concerned with the drug being diverted and under-concerned with the needs of people who are in constant pain -- which includes people who have terminal cancer, multiple sclerosis, and a bevy of conditions besides fibromyalgia.

The government is more concerned with keeping people from having fun by taking pills than it is with the quality of life of tens of thousands of people. And we're talking about pills that keep people from killing themselves or wanting to.

So tomorrow Methadone begins. I'll follow up tomorrow with the plan for how my transition from oxy to 'done is going to play out.

("'Done" work for you as shorthand for Methadone? ...Yeah. Didn't think so. And I agree.)

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A BIT OF NEWS FROM THE PAIN RELIEF NETWORK!

[This came to my inbox and I thought I'd pass it along and urge everyone who is able -- after donating all you can to me me me, of course (button's on the right) -- to give give give to PRN. The e-mail:]

Pain Treatment Advocacy Group Sues State of WA
Jun 25, 2008
By: Donna Gordon Blankinship
The Associated Press

SEATTLE - A pain treatment advocacy group filed suit Wednesday in federal court to challenge the restrictions Washington state officials have put on prescription pain medication

The nonprofit Pain Relief Network says the guidelines for prescribing narcotics, written by the Washington state Department of Health and published in March 2007, have influenced pain treatment across the country and have made doctors afraid to give opiate prescriptions[...]

Me (Calvin) again:

Get the full story using this link.

Donate to PRN using this link.

This post's title is a link to PRN.

...And sorry for the dearth of posts this month.

Family.

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THE DRUGS DON'T WORK?(!)

I'm having mixed results with the extended-release Ritalin. Yesterday I awoke at two p.m. but had to go to sleep at ten p.m. last night. I was freaking exhausted, despite having taken a Rit promptly upon waking.

Perhaps the release isn't so extended...

But the previous day I couldn't get to sleep until six or seven a.m. I had been awake for what felt like forever, but was probably about sixteen hours.

And now I'm awake and it's eight a.m. However, I woke up at three.

Perhaps in the struggle between Ritalin (amphetamine) and Klonopin (tranquilizer), the Klonopin wins... But K hasn't made me tired for about a decade.

I can't make sense of this.

Perhaps I'm being worked over by the impending decision from Social Security re whether I'm disabled according to them. The sound of the executioner sharpening his blade sings beside my ears...

In other news, I think I could go for a nice round of marcaine shots. My neck isn't as flexible as it used to be and the trigger points in my back make it painful for me to sit back in chairs. Also, my migraines are worse than they used to be.

So it may be time to see Dr 9 for the only thing he's good for and believes in: those damn shots of his. ...My TENS unit just isn't a good enough proxy for those shots.

(Man what a boring post. I should have waited for the Ritalin to kick in before writing.)

Now I have to go hide my drugs. A certain person is visiting today, is a fucking pill fiend, and would rather I wish for death due to lack of narcotics than he be high.

He does have a legitimate problem with his back, but won't get his own Oxy prescription, which he has said time and again his doctors are more than willing to give him. Instead he sticks to taking overdoses of Tylenol through taking assloads of Vicodin and his liver must be as black as our lungs by now (each of us has been smoking for about fifteen years).

How am I to sympathize?

...And now I have Ritalin, which he would be more than happy to ingest like a behind-schedule trucker...

One's possession of heavy drugs easily turns certain of one's friends and loved ones into con men and snakes who search for your the pills you hide and protect like unhatched eggs...

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RITALIN: IT'S NOT JUST FOR KIDS ANYMORE!

I feel like I'm beginning to live a childhood I never had, having just been prescribed Ritalin, since I never had ADD/ADHD/whatever the hell kids who won't sit at their desks and shut the hell up are "diagnosed" with these days. (The real problem: The kids don't function at all well in a stupidly structured environment and parents and teachers don't have so much as the inclination to deal with them on their wavelength. Thank you DSM-IV for letting bad parents and teachers off the hook... And I swear this is the only swipe I'll take at you.)

...Now, with any luck, I'll be able to reverse the cycle I've been in, and sleep for about eight hours a night and be awake for about sixteen during the day! I'm sure I won't know what to do with myself... But fear excessive masturbation may be involved.

...I took my first extended-release Rit about a half-hour ago, and drugs take one-and-one-half-hours to kick in for me. So I'll see if I can stay awake today.

Until it does kick in: Still so very, very tired...

UPDATE!: Here are the drugs I now take for fibro, generalized anxiety and chronic fatigue disorder:

OxyContin, 40mg daily
Klonopin, 6mg daily
Prozac, 30mg daily
Ritalin, extended release, 20mg daily

With any luck the Ritalin will help me take another pained step toward the shadow of my former self...

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WEDNESDAY I GET EXAMINED BY A SOCIAL SECURITY DOCTOR!

It seems the long wait may finally be nearing an end... And what I call my early retirement near its beginning.

I am to be examined by a doctor who will then report my status to the Social Security Disability Administration. I'm sure to be diagnosed with cognitive memory disorder, which fibromyalgians lovingly call fibro fog, because I've been diagnosed with it twice. Said disorder is the reason someone I know was awarded disability, so I feel pretty good about my newfound idiocy being just cause for "awarding" me benefits.

(This is a snip of a conversation I had with the first psychologist who diagnosed me with cognitive memory disorder:

"So basically I'm a moron now."

"That depends on what your IQ was before you got fibro."

At the time -- and this one -- I'm still intelligent enough to find the above hilarious.)

Also, there's the fact that no one will hire someone who has to eat OxyCodone and Klonopin like candy and that, for months at a time -- times like now -- I have to sleep for sixteen hours of every day.

I would be a total liability to anyone who would hire me... Whacked on Oxy and Klonopin (most people think of these two as incredibly debilitating in and of themselves... However, they allow me to function. Still, no one would put me at the helm of a steamroller... I'd be a lawsuit waiting to happen), unable to remember what happened or what I was told to do any given five minutes ago...

I'm unemployable.

I feel reasonably certain that will be the finding of the doctor I see Wednesday.

...It's an odd thing, to hope that this will be his conclusion.

But there is no other to draw.

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TO EVERYTHING, THERE IS A SEASON!

And it's becoming spring in Whatever State I'm In. Which is making me horribly lethargic, apathetic, and given me hysterical pregnancy. I've been sleeping twelve hours of every day since the weather has gotten warmer...

No idea why the changes in weather make me feel awful (though pain is kept to 4/10 with OxyContin), but I have heard it's common for fibromyalgians.

So I'm writing to let you know I have no interest in writing.

Happy birthday!

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FIBROMYALGIA TREATMENTS: WHAT WORKS!

I'm posting this so, hopefully, readers who have fibromyalgia can get to this post quickly to find out what works and what doesn't. Here's what works:

1) NARCOTICS.

OxyContin, tailored to the dose you, personally, need, for instance. But different people in chronic pain need different narcotics. Which is to write, as I have before, that some fibromyalgians will benefit most from hydrocodone, some from morphine, and so on.

The take-away from this being that the only thing that will reduce your pain by an appreciable level is a narcotic analgesic. Fuck anyone and anything that touts a "natural" cure.

Well, I got ahead of myself: Fuck anything that says it's a "cure." By definition, fibro is incurable. If you thought you had fibro but it went away through one or another action(s), you didn't have fibro and please shut the fuck up because the people who actually have it are being hoist with your petard by the thousands.

My own mother told me about someone she knows who has fibro, but who does not experience daily, constant pain. I had to refer her to the exact diagnostic criteria to show her she had a hypochondriac (or wicked asshole) on her hands (and wasn't told the name of the person because I wanted to track her down and give her a taste of the pain she, despite "having fibro," wasn't in. ...Such is the insanity induced by my pain.)

Fibro is coming to encompass too many things that it is not because of inept doctors and moronic patients.

Anyone who knows anything about fibro is a pain specialist, pure, simple. And knows: Fibro is pain. Treat it with painkillers.

There are diets you can read about that claim they can cure you. If the diet cures you, you have Celiac's Disease, not fibro. Both cause quite similar symptoms.

Please, everyone who does not have fibro, shut the fuck up so fibromyalgians can be treated properly, so the disorder can get some goddam respect -- stop keeping us in the limbo of having been diagnosed with a pseudo-disorder, while you can simply cut gluten out of your diet and live pain-free, but unable to eat pizza.

...Trust me: Fibromyalgians feel your pain, douchebag.

2) NOTHING ELSE.

Only narcotic analgesics help people with fibro.

Sure, Lyrica may bring your pain down one number on the pain scale, but the extra fifty pounds you gain that it puts on your joints and vertebra are going to put your pain right back where it was.

Cymbalta: Doctors will be happy to give you this, along with thirty-or-so pills/injections that will do nothing or next to it, instead of prescribing you narcotics. (Pain relief from an NSRI. ...If I could laugh at that I wouldn't be able to catch my breath and drop dead, blue as a Smurf...)

However it is, by its weak ability to increase the amount of dopamine in one's brain (not by increasing norepinephrine, as most docs will say) also capable of bringing your pain down maybe one point on the scale.

But you'll still feel suicidally painful if you actually have fibro.

In short: Narcotics are the answer. Narcotics are the only treatment that works for fibromyalgia.

This must be accepted by doctors, and narcotic analgesic treatment must be insisted upon by patients (please see previous posts for all the crap I had to go through to finally get chronic opioid analgesic therapy).

If your pain isn't enough to make you cry your lungs out every day for a dose of morphine or oxycodone, chances are you don't have fibro and you're harming everyone who actually has the disorder. Find out what you really have, and don't let your doctor diagnose you as a fibromyalgian despite the fact you don't have a single trigger/tender point.

If your pain hasn't made you wish you were dead since it started, please get the correct diagnosis and shut the fuck up about fibromyalgia.

Please, as this disease becomes understood, let doctors and patients realize, together, the only effective treatment for it: narcs.

To anyone who can be helped with anything else enough to matter: You don't have fibro. You're not helping yourself by being misdiagnosed with fibromyalgia, and you're hurting everyone who has fibromyalgia by going with whatever bullshit treatment you're being given (I could go into cortisol here) and finding that it helps your so-called fibromyalgia...

I understand that fibro is irresistable to hypochondriacs... Fibro is quite an easy disorder to pretend you have if you do your homework.

The problems is that you fuckers are helped with placebos, with Lyrica, with Cymbalta -- you're in studies yourselves and keeping out true fibromyalgians and making sure that our treatment stays bullshit.

To all fibro-pretenders: Just let me press down with my thumb on a certain place in your lower back for about thirty seconds, and we'll know what you have and do not have.

[Jesus, did the ire rise today. And I've been happy all day, too. ...I never know what's in my head until I sneeze it out.

Pain: 4/5. Debilitating, the best it will get... though I may want to think about upping to 50mg Oxy next month... Still too soon to say for sure -- I need to see exactly what 40mg can do, and it's been only a week now.

Anxiety: 4/10. Debilitating, the best it will get.

I would not dare complain that my conditions are managed as well as they are... I believe I feel the best I possibly can.

Still, I do miss being able to lift more than ten pounds...]

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A SORT OF HOMECOMING!

I had to sleep for 24 hours from Saturday and into an hour ago -- ah, sweet chronic fatigue syndrome -- so I haven't posted in a bit.

Yesterday I would sleep for five to six hours, until my pain would come back as my OxyContin wore off, then I would take a pill at the predetermined time. (Every day I make a med schedule as soon as I wake up so my OxyContin and Klonopin doses are as spaced out as they should be to make it possible for me to suffer the least amount possible.) And when the pills(s) would kick in I would go back to sleep.

Sleeping all day Sunday was preceded by my hanging out in downtown Lummox Saturday night. I dressed well -- a habit from living in DC and being taught what to wear and why by my best friend, a gay guy with impeccable taste -- which was suitable for where I had dinner... Which consisted of crispy duck with a spicy-sweet plum sauce that had been injected beneath a crispy, fried skin, paired with an IPA. With a few notable exceptions, the best thing to pass between my lips since I left DC -- by far.

But the place closed at 11, and I wanted to see if I could run into anyone I knew at the sports bar a parking lot away in the block-in-any-direction downtown. I succeeded, and hoisted a few with people I hadn't seen since high school, buying Jager shots for anyone who wanted them.

The good thing about offering Jager shots: not many takers. Especially good when one has absolutely no income...

So I walked around the bar, which was having karaoke night. Some people sang songs from the '80s that weren't even cool then. The rest sung country songs, which was what I expected.

I mingled with the local girls, and was pegged as gay, most likely, by a large number of them because I wasn't wearing jeans, sneakers and a flannel shirt. Otherwise I was written off as an outsider most likely conducting some kind of sociological experiment. Which they did not flatter themselves with -- it would make me "in the mist," and them gorillas.

The girls were stuffed into their tacky clothes like sausage into most-unnatural casing. The most attractive woman there would be considered hideously overweight in DC. (Just as I would be... While I lived in DC I committed the following crime against humanity: I didn't have a personal trainer.) The funniest thing, I thought, was that saying "hi" apparently counts as a pick-up line in Lummox, and not a conversation starter. I even thought, once or twice, that I was going to get a light beer tossed in my face for my having the temerity to simply greet women in the customary, two-letter, manner.

I hung about for an hour or so, appreciating (unironically) the differences between the scene in Lummox and the scene(s) in DC.

I especially appreciated the fact there's a place I can go to for perhaps the best duck in the United States -- a place where dressing well is expected... And blighted only by the fact that to pick up a woman there you have to be able to work magic on a married forty-year-old, which is beyond me.

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MIGRAINE!

I just woke up from a nap. Goddam my goddam head hurts so so so much ("faithful" readers can take pleasure in the fact this blasphemer is stewing in his own sin)...

...I fell asleep just before I was supposed to take my second dose of OxyContin, and am now waiting for it to kick in, having taken it within 30 seconds of waking -- four hours off schedule.

...The same migraine as every day, but unmitigated by drugs... Railroad spike through my right eye, another through the right temple... The skin and (seemingly) bone on the right half of my face and head firing nerves that yell loud as Godzilla pain pain pain... I can't stand the sound of my fingers hitting the keys but have to type, to do something to take my mind off the agony... Even if it won't won't won't work how could it ever... Pain jumps from the tips of my fingers, reverberates, amplifying itself every time it seems to bounce from one inner surface of my skull to another... Every square millimeter of the air attacking me like a million manta stings to the eyes through the simple act of seeing...

But in an hour all this will be a shadow.

How did I survive with these fucking migraines for so long without strong painkillers?

...Oh yeah, I was going to kill myself if Dr ML&S didn't intervene.

...It's a pity party! And only those who brought gifts can redeem their invitations...

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IF I HAD SKATED YESTERDAY!:

Yesterday I walked around the local skate park because the outdoor section just opened for the year. Then I walked around the local college's campus to see what I am missing now that I can't skate.

...Why the masochism?...

And, since I can't skate, I made up this story on what happened yesterday. I made sure the experience sucked so I wouldn't hate the fact that I'm now lame and can only walk.

...Maybe I need Heelys...

Anyway: "Yesterday":

Skating sucked yesterday... In the outdoor section, all the (wooden) ramps at the skate park were warped from the winter, and dropping in was like picking my way through a minefield... "OK I'll drop in here, have to miss those nails and that indentation (on the vertical part of the ramp, no less), then deal with the crack right before the fun box (at some parks not-so-aptly named), then immediately get my feet together for a 180 -- but have to jump before the exposed screw at the top of the box -- then land and navigate fakie (backwards) between the water puddles."

After only two hours of dealing with the not-so-fun boxes and treacherous ramps I ended up going to Lummox University. The place is even more of a skate park now than it was when I was a teenager, learning everything I know now. I was totally blown away: the perfect street course. Rails of all lengths and gradations of steepness, a huge gap to 180 over that allowed you to choose, by picking your launch spot, how far you needed to jump and how far you wanted to drop, and on and on.

And all within an area the size of a football field.

Why did I even go to the park? I already had jammed my left shoulder by misjudging my speed when launching to a disaster soul... I had no idea I would be going as fast as I was, since I hadn't dropped in on the ramp I used until that trick, and so I seemed to hang in the air after my jump, waiting to come down to earth so my skates could catch the ledge. My back skate did, but by then my front foot didn't know what to do with itself. I had almost launched the entire fun box, and I was straightening my skate out to land on the flat just when it caught the last half-foot of the ledge.

This made my front foot wash over the top of the ledge. which led to my entire body spinning ninety degrees atop the ledge, then to me taking the two-foot drop (from ledge to ground -- five feet for my shoulder) on my shoulder. At speed.

Back to the university:

I decided to give it a go at my favorite rail of all time -- an aluminum tube made smooth by thousands of previous grinds, hundreds of them my own -- long enough to make you proud you could actually lock in and ride out your grind for that long, but not long enough that if you fell you would be going too fast and hurt yourself (the rail runs down eleven steps).

I had a porn star (grind -- my balance mostly on the soul of my front skate, my back skate on the rail between my second and third wheels) locked in on my fourth try, but was a little off balance when I came off the rail fakie, my preferred may to dismount rails (the best-looking), with my left wheels not quite level with the ground. My boot was almost sliding along the concrete -- and all my weight was on that skate. This caused me to bend my knees until my ass almost touched the ground and my arms to spin like windmill blades as I attempted to get my balance onto my right skate.

Suddenly my left foot gave out entirely. My left skate's ankle strap exploded which, I soon found out, carved scrapes into my lower leg as it buckled into the skate. The scrapes on my lower leg, together, look like a shark bite.

(From pseudo-landing the grind to buckle explosion took only about two seconds, in which I covered a distance of about five feet.)

Naturally, I immediately removed the broken skate and heaved it into a wall while yelling FUCK! as loud as I could. I had almost proved to myself that I was perhaps three-fourths as good a skater as I had been almost a decade ago.

...My behavior is not kid-friendly in that it is completely childish, I thought as some parents who walked by gave me reproachful looks, holding their kid's head between them as though trying to insulate his mind from the word I had yelled. They turned away from me the moment I looked at them, vehement, likely afraid that my anger at botching the landing could be turned on them...

I calmed down an iota as I thought the situation over, seething while examining my skate: that's what the ankle strap is for: to break in a situation that would otherwise break your ankle. So I suppose I can't complain too much.

I should definitely use the broken-skate-thing as a reason/excuse to finally quit skating... But my christ it's harder to give up than smoking...

[Lots of fiction lately. I apologize, but guarantee it's more interesting than any presentation I could give of my actual life.

In case you're curious:

Pain seems to be about 5/10 with 40mg OxyContin daily, but more experience at this dose is, of course, necessary.

Anxiety with 6mg Klonopin daily: 5/10. A friend and I agreed a few days ago that "If you're not freaked right the fuck out all the time, you're not thinking hard enough."

...The things you let yourself believe to get by...]

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FIBROMYALGIA + WEATHER CHANGES = HELL!

I've been in my bed, balled-up into the fetal position for the past few days because the seasons appear to be changing. When there's a major shift in the weather, fibromyalgians feel like shit for some reason.

I couldn't eat all weekend, slept about 12 hours a day (which still wasn't enough), but spent quality time with my TiVo, which had been neglected since I have been reading lately... Around the time I started taking OxyContin...

(It would seem Oxy has increased my ability to concentrate rather than diminished it, the latter being what almost all doctors tell you it will do. "Do you want to be a zombie the rest of your life?"... I now am able to concentrate on novels because I can take quite a bit of my focus off how much I hurt.)

But I feel better today. Due, I have no doubt, to the fact I saw Dr ML&S today and he bumped up my daily dose of OxyContin from 30mg to 40mg.

Because my IBS was horrendous over the weekend, I'll be getting a blood test, probably next Monday, to make sure I don't have Celiac Disease. (If I do, all my problems could stem from an allergy to gluten.) Which, of course, I've been tested for a few times already, and don't have.

But I simply do not say no to Dr ML&S. The way I look at it, to do so would be akin to telling the man who just pulled my drowned body out of a pool and resuscitated me that no, he can't borrow a screwdriver.

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MUSIC TO SOOTHE SAVAGE FIBROMYALGIA: THE ARCADE FIRE!

This is Intervention and Wake Up (performed at the T), my two favorite songs by The Arcade Fire.

I've seen these guys twice. The first time I saw them they were on their first tour, visiting the 9:30 club in Wash., DC. Watch out for the guy with the crazy hair, the big drum, the harpsichord, the guitar, the tambourine, the kitchen sink. At 9:30 he left the stage at the end of the show by climbing the wall somehow, swinging over to the balcony and going through a Staff Only door.

Until that show I had only listened to the (first) album a few times, and liked it quite a lot. Still, at the time I was into an all-Arts-&-Crafts-bands-all-the-time kick. But a friend of mine knew if he invited me I wouldn't turn him down (I owe that bastard) because I'll see any band, within reason.

(Wow. I could knock so many bands right now... Good thing fibro fog is preventing me, right now, from coming up with any bands I hate... And recalling bands I hate likely is further complicated by the fact that I don't listen to them or think about them.)

Moving along: Since the show at 9:30 I've loved the Fire intensely (my wordplay, especially when unintentional, makes me cringe). In my not-humble opinion (all who disagree are simply wrong), seeing Wake Up live will change your life forever, and much for the better. There's nothing like screaming/moaning at the top of one's lungs in tune with thousands of people... Cathartic.

The last time I saw them I knew I had fibro. I screamed and screamed.

Everyone screamed with me.

[I likely will not post tomorrow since I will be getting back, then, from a short trip I'm taking today. I'd rather not go, however, because I forgot to take my Oxy last night and wish I had died in my sleep and was on the coroner's slab right now instead of about to go someplace and have to put on a smiley... But I am proud of myself, at least, for not doubling-up this morning...

I'll be getting back here late tomorrow night. Traveling makes me super-anxious, so I'll be drunk as hell when I return and just crawl into bed. ...That's the plan at least.

PS: The above "drunk as hell" bit was a lie. I would never drink on OxyContin, Klonopin and Prozac. What am I, stupid, and with anxiety that can't be controlled, when travel is involved, even by the holy trinity (POK)? The nerve (of me to pretend I know what you actually thought after reading what I wrote)!

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DEALING WITH THE FALLOUT FROM MY PREVIOUS E-MAIL TO X!:

[The below is my response to an e-mail X sent me after the e-mail I sent to her, and previously posted.]

I truly didn't mean to cause a shitstorm here.

Anyway, my problems were never that I was abusing drugs -- my problems were fibro and everything that comes with it, plus under-treated generalized anxiety disorder.

Tons of shit comes with fibro... Likely everything you thought was caused by drugs.

But now I'm on 30mg OxyContin, 6mg Klonopin, 60mg Prozac daily -- just-about optimal treatment. The problem before was that I was not on the right drugs, nor the right dosages.

I am unbelievably better now and probably feel as good as I ever will (though my Oxy probably will get bumped up a bit).

If you thought I was having a drug problem, you should have brought it up... You would have found out that I haven't been on Percocet (drugs) since early January. I've had to do without any pain medication for months, and that has been the cause of all my problems. I even came close to offing myself...

And after going through all that, to be so misunderstood is incredibly hurtful. This is obviously the worst time in my life so far (and hopefully in my entire life), but we DO talk about you and your problems primarily.

Granted, I'm not incredibly forthcoming when it comes to mine... But shit -- can't you figure out that losing my life as I knew it was/is incredibly tumultuous? Did you really need me to spell it out?

And I'm sorry, but there are many times that you make me feel like the only reason you don't "lose ME" is because I am useful to you, in that I can predict what your douchbag ex was/is doing.

I don't want to "lose you." I just want you to get rid of the fucking fuck somehow...

So what I wrote was off the mark. I missed one out of 100. I apologize. I just wish the fucker was out of your life so we could talk about anything else but that thing that continues wasting the rest of the world's oxygen...

I didn't want to offend you, and I apologize for doing so.

But christ, can't you block his numbers? Can't you do SOMEthing more than what you're doing?

And I don't know why I seemed to go off today... My head feels strange now that it is clear. Or as clear as it ever has been since I have had fibro.

Maybe I was having a Woe-Is-Me moment for some reason and decided everyone else's problems are minuscule compared to mine and that I didn't have to be civil.

Probably the case, and I don't know why.

I apologize. ...And I know part of my behavior is that I'm almost as sick of your rat-fucker of an ex as you are...

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MY E-MAIL TO A FRIEND I APPEAR TO WANT TO LOSE (BUT DO NOT)!

[This response is to an e-mail from someone who got back from a vacation and e-mailed me to let me know that and a bit more. The "bit more" is explained below.]

I just got back from a walk, a shrink's appt. before that, and now I need a nap after a quick post to my blog, which I may just put off... Hulk tired.

Glad you're alive. Hope you had fun in Some Place You Visited.

Call the goddam cops on your ex and his whole fucking family already.

[This girl -- let's call her X -- is being kinda-stalked by her ex-boyfriend (receiving phone calls and text messages long after the relationship has been over, having told him she doesn't want to hear from him again, but getting the messages, etc. nonetheless... Still, she responds to the communications, even if only to say "stop it.") Wacko's sister is even in on the act, having invited X out to dinner a month ago just to ask her all the questions her nutty brother wanted answers to -- "seeing anyone," etc.

OK, let me amend "psudo-stalked" to Scary-Stalked Family-Style.]

...My guess is you don't because on some level you like the attention -- and especially the fact that you can drive someone absolutely batshit insane. (Though he was going to be that anyway, without you, sweetie pie -- sorry to write that it's not you... You were just there when he had his psychotic break...)

...So keep the game going, by all means.

...Apologies if the above seems crude, but I am an ass, after all, tired, in pain, excuses excuses.

...I'm going to be out tomorrow. Hanging out with Y, actually. ["Actually" because X knows Y.] She's the only person in Lummox I know besides Z... Good thing her musical taste is impeccable.

Later on I'll explain the magic of fibro fog to you, aka cognitive memory disorder. Basically, it's akin to having ADD... I can't recall what was said five minutes ago unless the context is explicitly re-discussed or I think about it for a while... And I mean think about it for about five minutes... The big test psychologists and shrinks give me, which I fail miserably, is that I cannot remember a list of things read to me -- one test was five things, the other only three shapes of different colors -- after having a conversation for five minutes.

Kick ass!

It's all new and wonderful... a sort of metamorphosis I have no problem dealing with... Or at least accept, as what cannot be escaped must be.

...And soon, disability and Portland. Dropping out of the workaday world for the rest of my life. This last has been a goal of mine for years, since I became enamored of socialism...

But is fibro too high a price to pay?

Before I was put on OxyContin, my answer would have been a definitive FUCK YES.

Now the jury is hung; dead... But probably was one hold-out away from returning a verdict of FUCK YES before being strung up.

Cheers

--CB

PS: I thought I would take this opportunity to update you on my situation, though I'm sure you couldn't care less since all we talk about is you you you... I'm sorry that I'm too drained already, today, to be further wearied by tackling your problems.

...Please know the above is not meant to be mean, not anything against you, but only the statement of a fact both of us know.

PPS: I probably will post this to my blog, leaving out any details that could identify anyone discussed here because I'm fucking lazy and think posting my correspondence provides a good window into my heart of darkness...

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HERE'S HOPING MY TENS UNIT WILL EASE MY FIBROMYALGIA!

Today I had my second-to-last physical therapy appointment. My therapist, who I refer to as Mary Cassatt, worked with my insurance and got me a TENS (Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulation) unit for free. Love her -- which explains why she gets a great name and people like Dr. Douchebag get names like Dr. Douchebag (those who follow this blog will know that he's the shrink who cut my Klonopin dose from 6mg to 4mg per day before he knew anything about my case. I've been super-anxious ever since he did that, and he doesn't care one bit. What a fucking douchebag...).

So I'm about to watch TV and electrocute the hell out of myself for the rest of the night. Should be fun!

...I'm also definitely getting used to the 30mg of OxyContin per day that I'm on. Yesterday (or today, to nitpick) I went to sleep at about 2:00 and woke at 10:00. Not bad. And I didn't feel like I had to dive under my bed's covers at 8:00 pm like I have every preceding day this week. Good stuff!

And today I don't feel tired or apathetic at all, plus I'm not getting motion sickness. Pretty sweet!

So I currently use only Oxy, Klonopin, Prozac, and a TENS unit to control my pain (from fibro) and generalized anxiety disorder (which is really, left unchecked, a 24/7 panic attack). And I think I may as well drop the Prozac. But I'll probably have to wait to get out of my parents' house to do that, since they figure I may as well take it since it may be doing something and it's cheap because I get the generic: fluoxetine.

But, the Prozac, I am all but sure, is doing nothing. Studies show that antidepressants are only slightly better than placebos. ...And I've been on every SSRI, SNRI, Gabitril, et al, and none of them helped. I have always needed Klonopin, and have been on large doses of benzodiazepines since age eighteen. It's the only thing that works for my anxiety at all and, therefore, the only thing I truly believe I should be taking for it.

So after all the crap with all my doctors -- I've seen about fifteen in all for my fibro -- I'm simply going to be on Klonopin, OxyContin, and use a TENS unit.

Very, very simple. The doctors I see and have seen, of course, had to make it as fucking hard as possible for me to get to this point -- trying probably around thirty drugs in all that didn't work, under-treating my pain and anxiety while doing so (except for Dr. L in DC. Guy is a genius, and provided me with the most stable period of my life by taking such good care of my GAD in my pre-fibro days).

To wrap things up: I have known for years that all I truly need are OxyContin and Klonopin. But it has taken years to get down to just these two (after I wean myself off Prozac/fluoxetine).

Most doctors do not listen. And most have their favorite therapies. And most hate to prescribe their patients Oxy and Klonopin because they're potentially addictive and can induce tolerance.

BUT NOT IN PEOPLE WITH FIBROMYALGIA AND AN ANXIETY DISORDER.

Doctors need to wake the hell up to the above reality.

Now for some electrocution!

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MUSIC TO SOOTHE SAVAGE FIBROMYALGIA: INTERPOL!

Still getting used to OxyContin... Though maybe a bit less tired, overall, today. Then again, I usually don't feel like I have to totally crash until 8:00, on the nose. If I do go to sleep then, I wake at midnight and can't get back to sleep until 4:00 or 5:00, then sleep until about noon.

...While I remain useless, please enjoy No I In Threesome:

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STILL GETTING ACCUSTOMED TO OXYCONTIN...!

I am so very tired...

Especially after going crazy in physical therapy. I am in pain, having a bit of a panic attack, and need some Klonopin and a nap.

Which is what's I'm going to take and what I'm going to do.

I should be accustomed to this side-effect (feeling logy) in a week or so.

In the meantime, this blog could be a bit boring, I'm afraid. But the excitement should return around Sunday.

In the meantime, I'll post what I can and try to make it interesting...

Hopefully I have interesting dreams while I sleep the clock around...

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OXYCONTIN, SOCIAL SECURITY, AND HELL!

I couldn’t post yesterday because my server was down. So here’s what happened yesterday:

I had to fill out new forms for my lawyers who only now are getting around to processing my change of address. ...I guess this is what happens when you hire a big firm and they switch your caseworker one billion times on you: Important things are shunted into the memory Hole. (Note to self: I’ve used “Memory Hole” too much lately.)

So I had to fill in a form to let my current caseworker know that she needs to check out my six new doctors -- my psychologist, my neuropsychologist, my GP, my pain management specialist, my psychiatrist and my physical therapist.

So the ball is rolling in Jesusland... But that ball feels a lot like the boulder Sisyphus rolls...

Also, I’ve been taking 30mg OxyContin daily, and have yet to adjust to its side-effects. namely, I get motion sickness from being in a car for two minutes and constantly feel tired.

This, too, shall pass.

Also (I’m wicked-awesome at transitions...), I’m finishing Dante’s Inferno today. It has failed to bring me back into the Catholic fold because the people he finds in hell who are punished harshly are the people he, personally, hates the most.

So this atheist, apparently, is only going to hell if Dante is my judge, and finds my character unbecoming...

It would seem I will end up with the Virtuous Pagans. In which case, the Citadel provides all the light I will need.

...Then again, I’ve had freaky sex (“freaky” in Dante’s view, includes oral and probably any position but missionary), so I suppose I could be cast about with the Sodomites. But, then, Dante put three of his favorite writers in with the Sodomites, and writes that their fate seems not-too harsh. ...And is the only person to ever suggest that these persons were Sodomites.

It seems to me that, before he took a break in writing the Inferno, Dante would have cast them in with the Virtuous Pagans, if not placed them in Purgatory, had he not wanted to talk to them so badly.

So my afterlife, according to Dante, should not be so bad... At least I’m not one of his hated popes. Then again, he judges everyone but the Florentines to be incredibly sinful people... But it should serve me well that I am not from any of the Italian places he names that are full of nothing but Grafters, etc.

Which brings me to this larger point: All religious people would place in Hell those they, personally, detest.

Leave it to divine judgment and shut the fuck up, people!

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FIBROMYALGIA + BAD SKATING = OW!

I went skating today. The first pic is my left knee, the second is my right:



Note how the left is already so swollen my patella is almost hard to make out.

I went for a disaster torque (grind): I went down a mini-ramp, jumped off a three-foot-high launch, and I actually had the trick -- on a ledge five-and-a-half-ish feet in the air, balanced between the third and fourth wheel of my frame and on my tweaked left boot. Then... Well, something happened.

I don't think it sunk in that I actually had the grind. It was stupid of me to try it in the first place because it was my second time out in two years... But a bunch of grommets were blocking the fun box and I had grown sick of running into and then yelling at them.

So when I came to the end of the ledge I didn't know how to land -- forward, backward? What if I just let things sort themselves out and drop straight down onto my knee and bash the smaller ledge below?

...The latter is what I went with.

...So the above makes it a good time to talk about how the OxyContin is working (I started taking it today because I was a little excited). I've taken two pills today, 10mg each (and have found out that taking 10mg of OxyContin means taking only about 8mg to 9mg of oxycodone over a period of time), and things seem to be well. I take another at bedtime. I may not have to take as much oxycodone in the time-release preparation because it provides round-the-clock relief. I won't be building up a massive migraine in my sleep every night...

However, the lower dose of oxycodone means that my IBS is... er, causing problems... (I promise never to discuss IBS in any detail.) But my pain is still about a 6/10... Unless you count my damaged knee and how it feels...

...Well, then I guess my pain would be a 6/10 nevertheless. Fibro puts one in such a state of pain that, as I've told many doctors, I'm sure I could take a bullet in the gut and hardly give a shit. ...The positive spin is that I would actually be able to drive myself to the ER with one hand and hold in my intestines with the other.

So I suppose my point, then, is rather well illustrated: Whatever I did to my knee to make it balloon like it has did not increased my pain one iota. It's simply impossible to bend the fucker.

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OXYCONTIN!: THE CLOSEST THING TO A CURE FOR FIBROMYALGIA?(!)

My apologies for not posting in a while. I spent the past few days at my younger brother's and couldn't post because it would have been rude.

So now I'm very tired and about to nap, sitting here, upright.

But I felt the need to write that I have been prescribed OxyContin, and look forward to starting taking it because I believe it is likely to be the best way to manage my pain. I'm going to start taking Oxy Monday because I'm going to go to the local skate park tomorrow. My pain is that much more tolerable, and my life that much better, that I can resume the activity that, after writing and sex, gives my life purpose!

...It's important to note, here, that doctors will tell you that narcotics will turn you into a zombie who never will leave his/her couch.

More bullshit(which is all you should expect to hear when a doctor talks about narcotic/opiate analgesics). When you take someone's pain level down to a tolerable level, they can stop being a zombie, get off the couch and do what they will. Before treatment the person was in too much pain to be able to move much. You take away the pain, you take away the impetus behind the person's near-immobility.

...I'm going to be taking 10mg pills every eight hours, so the dosing is more convenient... Better than taking five Percocets every three hours and fifteen minutes, anyway.

I just hope me taking 10mg of OxyContin doesn't mean I'll only be getting 30mg of oxycodone per day. That would seem to be a step back in my treatment, since I currently take 50mg of oxycodone per day.

Of course, you'll be able to read all about how well things go this week. But I'm cautiously optimistic!

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