In retrospect, I guess I should consider myself lucky that my doctor treated my back pain (in the 6 weeks running up to my surgery) instead of calling me a drug seeker. Although that was 11 years ago, and the medical landscape has changed a LOT since then. Maybe if it happened today I would get labelled a drug seeker. (Although I have such a long relationship with my doctor, I feel fairly confident that he knows me well enough to know my reactions to pain are for real AND to know I'm not a drug seeker. But maybe not. Who knows?)
I will say that my dad's doctors are good about treating his chronic pain (the man takes enough oxycodone in one dose to kill someone who's never taken it before, for real), so I can't complain on that front, either. But just because we both were lucky doesn't mean other people are.
The Pain Test: Doctors have no idea how much their patients are suffering. That's about to change.
Such a complex issue. We all know people that have zero pain tolerance (raises hand), and others that shock doctors when they discover conditions that should render them incapacitated. Doctors have to deal with all out drug seekers, and those that won't fess up to the existence of pain. If they don't even know the patient it is that much harder.
It would be so very helpful if an objective measure becomes a reality.
Time to paint! Also, I smell like a a swamp. And I'm out of Gatorade.
We're just at the stage where scientifically speaking, we're learning more about pain, thanks to things like fmRI scanners that have shown there is no "pain center" in the brain, which is why treating it is so fraught. One study compared people with cervical degeneration -- by the Xray pictures, they had exactly the same degree of damage, but the pain they experienced from it differed radically.
Shit I'm not saying:
If the question you're asking over and over is going unanswered, rather than harassing people to answer it, maybe you should consider that your question makes no sense and we can't figure out what you're actually asking.
So, my calendar at work is put out by the Humane Society, pictures of dogs and cats every month. It's pleasant. This month I find particularly restful, and I just now figured out why - the dog is posing in front of bookshelves, and while the dog doesn't remind me of Walter or any of the dogs from my past, the books on the bookshelves could totally be mine - Dune, and Star Trek novels, paperbacks stacked up on their side next to hardbacks in series order. It's homey.
So I have this idea that we should hire ourselves out to the state of California, and we'll just drive around the state, getting groceries in every town and thus causing it to rain. We'll be hailed as goddamn heroes.
That's a great idea! We could pay tribute with vegetarian and gluten-free treats.
My most fabulous massage therapist, who was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer last December, died yesterday. She was one of those people you instantly connect with, she made you feel important, and could brighten the darkest day. As dark as today feels, I still feel so lucky to have known her for the last 6 years.
My housemate is going out of town for the next few days. It's the first time I'll really be alone since Hubby died. Part of my brain goes "All alone! Wail!" The other part goes "No more having to share the bathroom! Yay!"
