Fake Opioid Epidemic

  Good evening all. It’s Monday evening about 6:10. I’ve been occupied with my NCIS reruns on this Memorial Day 2019.
  I’ve been hesitating to open this can of worms here since I was mainly trying to concentrate on how we, as women of a certain age, are coping with the spit balls life shoots at us. I’m going to fire away on a situation that has more or less destroyed my life as I knew it and sabotaged my efforts to build a new life. This topic has no shades of grey that I have seen so far. Folks either see pain drugs as the scourge of the earth of as lifesavers. I’m sitting on the lifesaver limb.
 In 1992 I flipped a car and broke the vertebrae in my neck. The car went one way and I went the other as it flipped 4-5 times. This is what I was told days later by the neurotrauma nurse who was in the car behind me. All I remember was losing sight of the road and thinking “Oh shit, where do I go now?” I sort of remember a helicopter landing in a parking lot and I remember two different emergency departments. To make a long story short, I ended up with my cervical vertebrae wired together since vertebrae do not ‘knit’ themselves back together like other bones in our body do.there were many severed nerves and post-surgical damage. A lot of it was from scar tissue that builds up after being damaged. The headaches were and are excruciating. I played the Guinea pig for too many pain relieving treatments and medications to list. My family doc told me “You’ll wind up taking methadone or Dilaudid.” As someone who took an occasional aspirin or Sinutab this was what drug addicts took. No way! After two years of listening to my husband berate me for constantly throwing up with pain and not doing the home or car repairs I usually did, my daughter was 14 and afraid I would die while she was in school, I planned the perfect suicide. I would spread my beach blanket along with a book, drink a glass of wine(enough to nor have 0 blood alcohol) and swim out in a No Swimming area (crazy currents). If they found mu body, they would have said “Crazy woman. She knew better than to swim here.” If would have looked like an accident and my life insurance would have provided for my family. Well, obviously I did not do that. I hit the shrinks office instead. I finally agreed to take the potent pain pills that I had been refusing. My neurologist put me on 10 mg. 3X day. This worked! I baked him and his nurses a cheesecake to celebrate not having a headache for a month.
  Well, the children grew, the husband left and at38 years old I returned to the medical equipment had left 26 years earlier. Returning to work as a welder was no longer an option as I couldn’t pass a physical nor could I physically do the work 16 hours a day as I had before the wreck. I had one child left at home and he studied with me. I loved school! A couple of years passed and I met a wonderful man who lived in Baton Rouge. Since I was selling my house in Mobile so I could attend Tulane in New Orleans, it made sense at the time for us to move in together. I finished school as he was diagnosed with cancer. Still taking my 30 mg of methadone every day, I didn’t go to Texas for my residency. I stayed in La and cared for him, the university professor. Since 8 was on campus every day I kept taking classes. I started teaching cooking classes.
 All my children were at my house in June 2007 went I went to the grocery store so I could finish cooking supper. Sitting at a red light this airhead little girl was in her phone and didn’t see me, my car or the red light. Her Toyota pushed my Lexus underneath the pickup truck in front of me. I went home and cooked for my family. Three days later the pain was so bad I went to my pain management dr. for an MRI. Yup, a few wired snapped and bones misaligned. It’s not operable but here, add this 30 mg of oxycodone to your drug regimen. I was functioning again. When the drugs didn’t work I could get in the shower and sleep it off. Something about the warm water helped so that I could keep the nausea medicine down.
  Life went on until 2016. That wonderful man was having multiple affaires because he had retired and was bored. Actually, he had been screwing around and drinking like a fish for years. At his age (78) I knew his mind was slipping so I just moved into another bedroom and continued taking care of him. I didn’t expect him to leave and sell the house and cars from underneath me. Well, his grown children had gotten a power of attorney so they were acting in his behalf.
 Due to flooding there were precious few rentals available in that part of Louisiana so I moved to another state. Just me and my dog. We didn’t even have a car. My pain doctor would write RX for three months at a time. Every three months she re-evaluated her patients and administered drug tests. This had been our routine for 15 years. I was the perfect patient. I never tested + for anything I shouldn’t and I never ran out early. In fact sometimes I forgot to take a dose. It was handy to have a little stash because when a hurricane hits, the stores are all closed for days or weeks so it was imp to get RX filled. I had asked my Dr. for a referral for a dr near my new home but he didn’t have any suggestions. So, in addition to working part time (using public transportation) I was looking for a dr that wasn’t 250 miles away. I finally found a neurologist/pain specialist! Or so I thought. His idea was to taper all his patients off of opioids and let them take Tylenol. I can hear you screaming already. As soon as I told my employer that I no longer had any pain meds, she said they didn’t need me anymore.
 In August of 2017 I was hanging drapes. I fell off the top of a 12 foot ladder. My son was there and he picked me up from the floor and got me to my bed. Here we go again-MORE MRIs, more damage to my back and neck.  For the last 1 1/2 years I have sat home either in my bed or on the couch. Because some idiots want to get high, I can no longer have any pain medication. Sometimes I can stand up straight but not often. I manage to go shop for food every 2-3 weeks. Microwave meals only. We hear all kinds of horror stories of people overdosing on Oxycodone, Roxicodone, hydrocodone, methadone... . Oh, don’t forget the Fentanyl! Apparently Fentanyl is a cheap ingredient to adulterate fake pills and illegal heroin. Since I can’t leave my house, I have an incredible amount of time to research all the headlines and latest medical trends.
 All the preceding is a warmup for my main reason for writing in the first place. The DEA and CDC have manipulated statistics and read a fake psychiatrist’s papers. How may of you out there are legitimate suffers of chronic pain? If you are like me, you are not trying to get high, you take medications as prescribed and you are now suffering. Because of the yahoos getting high and dying we can no longer get the meds that allow us to live a semi normal, semi productive life. I can’t bend over enough to brush my teeth half of the time. I’m well educated. I have much to offer the world and an employer. Yet I sit in agony day in and day out for lack of a prescription. I wouldn’t know where to begin if I was inclined to try to purchase black market drugs. I’m almost 63 years old and seven people’s grandmother. I’m guessing a drug dealer would laugh at me after he robbed me. Since I live on SS Disability and a military pension I rather think that illegal drugs are beyond my ability to afford.
 As a survivour of the militant ‘60’s and ‘70’s I’m ready to put my pen to paper and protest the systematic torture of CCP. What gives the government the right to tell my Dr. what medications I may have? My own Dr told me the other day that in the past I would have been the ideal candidate for fentanyl patches. Personally I think that may be a little stronger than I need but at this time I’m willing to try anything. I’m ready to do everything I can to draw attention to myself and my fellow CCP’s. #untreated.  #painpatientsvote.  Oddly enough, I have heard nothing from President tRump and my Tweets to him.
 Ok, I’ve sounded off. I don’t drink and I can’t smoke pot. My head hurts, my back is about to break in two and I’m almost throwing up. Let me hear from you. Tomorrow is Tuesday and that means it’s NCIS night. Oxygen network has some reruns playing and USA had them on until 7:00. I love my life.

Another Piece of My Heart Broken

 I just had a lengthy convo with my oldest friend. Like us she is in the over 60 crowd and living alone. She buried both her mother and her sister in the last year and since her mother had a reverse mortgage, she had to sell the house. With what little money she got from that she rented a nice home for herself, her dogs and cats and her 40something nephew. Needless to say the nephew skyed up and left her alone with all the expenses. He didn’t even take his clothes. She’s at a point that she can no longer afford cable tv and internet. I would be going crazy with the silence so I’m going to try to find out what resources are available for limited income elders. I suggested that she place an ad for a roommate in the medical school paper but she’s worried about an unknown person and her antiques. If any of you read this and know the answers already please drop me a line.

ROLE REVERSAL ?

 Have any of you had a grown child move back home? And you’re happy about it? As we’ve discussed earlier, many of us are in straightened circumstances in our older single lives. The room mate thing may not seem like an ideal situation to some but what if it’s your adult child? What if they are helping out with expenses and taking some of the financial pressure off? 

  This seems a bit bizarre but I’m having difficulty accepting money from my son. Not that I’m saying no but it was weird when he picked up the tab for a pricey restaurant meal. Yes, I had to move into a more spacious flat but I’m really glad he’s here. This is the kid I provided with several cars since he went through a crash-em-up phase in years past. I paid for his education in two different fields and catered his wedding. I was always the Bank Of Mom when he and his former wife had financial problems. But this was when I was half of a couple and still working. My own parents cut all ties when I was 16 and I swore my children wouldn’t ever feel as adrift in the world as I did. It didn’t help that Daddy died when I was 23 and my mother had remarried. 

  My parents used to tell my brothers and me that once we were grown, they were going to take three four month vacations every year and spend them with us. What they meant was that they were going to divide their time between living with the three of us. Well, they’re gone and I’m the only sibling left. 

  So why does it feel so strange to feel like the recipient of a charity? That’s not a good explanation but the best I can come up with right now. Why do I feel like I should still be the giver? Not that I don’t enjoy having someone else change the oil and wiper blades on my car!

This Will Tell Your Age

 I just had a flash from the past... . How many of you know what I’m talking about if I ask for a ‘slip pin’?

No Sex In This City

 How many of us that are single gals again-whether by choice or not- are content to stay alone with our dog as company? We raised our children, had dinner on the table every evening, did innumerable piles of laundry, and we had sex. Sometimes we initiated it with our partner and sometimes we just gave in so he didn’t whine so loud. Now we are retired or winding down our careers. We pop Marie Calanders in the microwave and vacuum every week or so. I once went for a month without doing even one load of laundry. Yes, my undie drawer never runs to empty.

  I admit to having days where I schlep around in pjs all day. Makeup? Hell, I can’t remember the last time I did more than apply some lipstick. My Botox and fillers are holding well. After the divorce I struggled to get my weight to above 104 but I’ve now made up with a vengeance and am now 145. 125-30 is a good weight for my 5’6” frame but I have clothes that range in size from a 2 to a 12. I never throw clothing out-it WILL be all the rage again and I’m still wearing my ‘70’s DVF and classic Chanel.

  I digress. With my basically sedentary lifestyle and love if reading do I miss having someone to share with? Yes, I do. Just not enough to do anything about it. And I don’t want to feel obligated to have sex. I actually find the thought repugnant. Is it just me and my little circle of friends who feel this way? I’ve had my RX for Premarin for many years and it does keep the hot flashes away but all the other symptoms of post menopause are there. Ive been known to state that this is Mother Nature’s way of letting us know that since we’re too old to reproduce, we no longer have those pesky basic urges. Men have a little blue pill. As women, should we have to fake feelings we no longer feel?

  Girls, I’m anxious to hear what you think.

  Soooo, when I say that life wasn’t supposed to be this way, do you understand where I’m coming from? The big question now is where do we go from here at 60+ years old? Do we gather our broken friends under the same roof of an old Victorian home? Do we pool our resources on a closed down motorcourt motel and make that a communal home? This winter of our discontent could be a proving ground. We need each other much more now that we did when we were stringing love beads and throwing peace signs.

  If anyone tells you that running a restaurant is grueling, believe them and multiply what you imagine X10. It also allows plenty of time for your partner to screw around. I knew he was having affaires but I was so exhausted and disgusted by his heavy drinking that I didn’t care. When he got wasted and fell cutting his head open I loaded him into the car and took him to the ER I used to work in. When my former husband died two years before, I was the one who had to arrange the funeral as our grown children were numb and clueless. The tacky, cheap vinyl boot ( just one) and undies in my bedroom when I arrived back home were not mine. The Craigslist women who showed up at my door looking for him or items they left behind also moonlighted at a local “lingerie shop” in their back room. At least that’s what the newspaper said when they were investigated for prostitution.

   Sooooo. This brings us to July 2016. P. was going to fly down to south Texas for a beach week with his adult and their kids. I dropped him at the airport and went to work. I was to pick him up in a few days. He never came back. He called the woman he was having an affaire with, who also happened to be my daughter, and told her he wasn’t coming back. She was standing beside me and on speakerphone. I was hand delivered eviction papers by the sheriff.