Jessica’s Story
Nov 29, 2006
By: Anonymous
Painreliefnetwork.org
Reasons the DEA is evil:
Since the spinal injury (multiple fractured vertebrae) in 2001, I’ve suffered from chronic back pain. I’m miserable not being active and pushing the limits on a regular basis, but at the same time I need prescription medication just to get by, especially with my harshly severe pain. It sucks. I’m lucky to have an excellent doctor, but as with most physicians, there is an EVIL entity known as the DEA who threatens them and also ensures legit pain sufferers continue to suffer. Because of a small percentage of people who abuse/misuse prescription meds, the DEA (drug enforcement agency) threatens doctors, prescribing licenses, etc. In my opinion, the penalties should be harsher for not treating pain than accidentally giving meds to someone who will abuse them. Much like the rest of our fouled up healthcare system in the US, the DEA is nothing more than a huge flaw and joke. When it comes to voting on passing laws and such, if there is ever a senator or otherwise who is all for dismantling or striking down the DEA, they will certainly get my vote.
Another example many can relate to where the DEA has continued to screw up: There are idiot methamphetamine makers and users. They forgot there are people who suffer from chronic nasal allergies, eye irritation, etc., but once again, they sided with the druggies, making over-the-counter meds (such as Sudafed, etc that contains some key ingredient in making meth) making the OTC meds harder to get. Sure, the restrictions might make a black market for the druggies, but that also means the rest of us who are legit and occasionally took the tablet of our choice, get to jump through stupid hoops to get what works. Tylenol is more “dangerous” and can cause liver failure if taken too much at once, yet that’s freely available. Benadryl allergy is something I used to take which was good for my sinuses. Just recently the formula changed and it’s no longer effective. The DEA is good at constantly revealing their own flaws. Bottom line: the DEA DESTROYS LIVES.
Physical pain can be deadly…
The DEA and other related medical organizations have failed in countless ways. Putting this in layman’s terms so all reading can understand; in my back I have discs that are herniated up through the bone, making sitting for long periods of time painful. Getting through a day at work often means I need to take meds to get by. As I type this, I’ve needed nothing for a couple of days; I’m doing good at the moment. Pain (at least for me) is a cycle with good and bad days. If I don’t need anything, I don’t take it. I have no problem cold-turkeying prescription narcotic pain meds when I have no pain, and I have NO withdrawal symptoms, etc., there’s not a psychological addiction problem by any means. No different than taking allergy medicines that [sarcastic] my favorite agency [sarcastic] has badly regulated.
Unfortunately, because prescriptions are limited on how much can be taken and doctors can only comfortably prescribe so much without the DEA destroying them (the physicians), and the lives of their patients. So many times I’ve had to resort to taking Aleve, Tylenol and other over the counter poisons in such high quantities, but in some ways I am amazed I am not dead yet. It’s no secret the U.S. Health”care” system is in a state of imminent collapse. There was a period of time where I was unemployed, essentially homeless (surviving by staying with my ex-inlaws) and in tears daily while doing a physical job just to make some money. Though I had health insurance at the time of my accident, this kept me from working for some time, so I lost it, and subsequently had no health insurance, no doctor, no medicine, so I was taking 20+ tablets of Tylenol through the day and Ibuprofen and/or Aleve just to function, keep moving, etc. That was also less than a year after the spinal injury. At one point when I did go to a poor persons clinic with what little cash I had, I was given Celebrex and Ultram (tramadol). All I can say, is that’s like saying “gee doc, thanks for not believing me.” A major insult!! High priced designer drugs that are only minimally and/or not as effective and quadruple the price are another obvious example of drug manufacturing companies wasting money and resources, making healthcare less affordable.
Countless times I have had to take an excess of Tylenol and anti-inflammatory medications (Ibuprofen, Aleve, etc). Now I’m fortunate to have insurance, a good job, etc., but am limited on the number of prescription pain pills in a given day. I never exceed a prescription; as I don’t ever want to put a physician’s butt on the line, so never take more than what I’m allowed. They work hard to get the letters ” M.D.” after their name, plus, there are too many repercussions if a person is abusing the Rx meds. It’s not worth the risk of losing a good physician who also fears the DEA.
All too often I question the sanity of bothering with saving for retirement, etc., because I honestly don’t think I’ll live that long. Having nearly died once from liver failure secondary to Tylenol poisoning (had no doc or prescription meds, but had to work to live and eat), and now again from similar causes of being undertreated. I certainly do NOT blame my doctor for my recent near-death experience. The DEA is to blame, and if I should ever die because of a lack of medication, my will would be for a pit-bull attorney to sue the DEA and give the money awarded to my loved ones.
A explanitory paragraph:
As to the details of my recent near-death experience; I will not post exactly what I took, as the herbs (legal kind, obtained at healthfood store) are easily obtainable, I would never want to assist in a suicide. All things internet, certain things are not meant to be public. I have disclosed exactly what I took/mixed with my doctor; and since waking up in ICU on ventilator with family by my side worrying I’d be brain dead *if* I ever woke up because they didn’t know how long I had been down without oxygen, I’m now afraid of taking just about any and everything unless it is under my doctors direction.
Details/My personal near death experience story:
It was Tuesday, October 24th, 2006; pretty much a normal week. Life had been going good and I’d been a happy person, so no depressing issues were going on. That day, however, was exceptionally bad. From the time I woke up that morning, I had taken a total of three “vicodin”(hydrocodone) from morning until evening when arriving home from work. Never exceeding 3 tablets, but that accounts for the opiates showing up in low quantity on my toxicology test. I took Aleve throughout the day in the usual excess quantity (have had none since leaving the hospital). Had done stretches, took multiple breaks, laying on the floor trying to stretch out my back, etc., using “Ben Gay” muscle rub cream, ice, any and everything to get relief. Even though the ER (emergency room) is right across the street, there would never be a point going there; they’re notorious for both undertreating and not treating pain. They simply label any person with a pain problem as a drug seeker, and act accordingly. But then they expect the person to pay an overpriced bill, often for services not even rendered - of course, that much is an issue on it’s own. I’d better be bleeding to death or unconscious to consider going to the ER, and even then I might fight a person about going if I can.
So back to that fateful day: I had gone home and still in excruciating pain. I probably resembled the hunchback of Notre-Dame trying to move around. I took an Ambien tablet as per my normal bedtime routine (and yes, only *1* tablet). About one hour later, it was not working and I was in too much pain to sleep. It was at this point I created an accidental death-cocktail consisting of herbs and OTC meds. At that time though, I didn’t care if I lived or died due to the amount of physical pain I was in, my actual intention was that by playing pharmacist with just legal stuff, I’d knock myself out and sleep good until noonish or so the next morning. The longer I stay horizontal (laying down) the better the back feels. Needless to say, when I woke up the next day with a breathing tube down my throat in the ICU(intensive care unit), the first question I scribbled down on a piece of paper was “What happened?”. I was a bit confused not waking up in my own bed. After an auto accident (before the spinal injury sustained while snowboarding), I woke up in an ICU on a machine breathing for me, so this was a situation I remembered. This time though, because the day/night before were not anticipated to turn out this way, I was wondering if I had been in another auto accident or something and was not entirely sure what was going on.
The Frightening Saga of 10/25/06:
Luckily I don’t remember that morning/day, but as it has been relayed to me: At about. 7 a.m. I was found completely unconscious on the bathroom floor. Toilet lid was up with my business unflushed - very uncharacteristic for me. Pants apparently were pulled up. It appears I had finished my business, pulled the sweatpants up, and it appears I passed out before turning around to flush, close the lid, etc. I’m told my bed was barely touched and obviously not slept in. They say me and the floor were covered in puke. No vomit in the toilet, so I’m guessing my body may have vomited/rejected things after my lights were out. I’m told I was called by my name and that I looked up then closed my eyes again, but that obviously “no one was home”. 911 was called. Onlookers tell me they intubated me right on the hall floor by the bathroom and started bagging(term used on manual breathing for a patient). They were told I had a weak pulse but not breathing. I suspect one or two things; I had been breathing throughout the night, shallowly and respiration just wasn’t barely detectable and/or God is obviously not done with me and sent me one heck of a wake up call with this one!
My mother and aunt knowing all this drove to the hospital. What understandably frightened my mother was that shortly after her arrival, the chaplain went to talk to her in a private room, telling her that they didn’t know if I would be brain damaged or ever come back to consciousness, be normal, etc. In reviewing my chart upon my waking up, I see they had used narcan amongst other meds, but since this was NOT an opioid reaction and no one knew what I took at the time, it did not bring me to consciousness. The reversal drugs/meds are known as “antagonists” but I know exactly why what they gave didn’t work, and since all this took place and confiding in my doctor what was in my system, pieces of the puzzle were coming together for those who care so much about me.
To make this all too true story even more over the top; it was the boss who became the primary doctor looking after me, also not knowing anything. For those reading this and aren’t aware, I work as the second hand for a group of doctors on a regular basis and we have a fairly close personal friendship and know one another very well. My primary physician is out of the area, as it would not been kosher and more or less in poor taste for my bosses to be prescribing narcotic medicines for me. We’re all close, but also keep things appropriate, professional, etc., even when snowboarding, wakeboarding and playing outside of the office. Puzzling to them was the fact they also knew I had not been depressed or exhibiting signs of despondence, etc. I care very much for them, and I know the reverse can be said. On with my personal story….
Wednesday afternoon (10/25) about 3 p.m. I had regained consciousness. Apparently during the night I had aspirated emesis. (layman phrase: inhaled puke into my lungs) Aspirate your own emesis and you’ll earn a breathing tube and an E ticket to the most creepy sensation in the world; getting junk suctioned out of your lungs through a breathing tube has got to be among the worst freaky sensations I can think of. Extubation wasn’t all too pleasant a feeling, but a relief at the same time. I couldn’t really vocalize well immediately after. Two weeks or so after the incident, I STILL had a sore throat and was somewhat hoarse. At first was coughing up blood clots and such, so apparently it was a rather traumatic intubation (endotracheal intubation: term means breathing tube shoved down throat). Also, when I came to in ICU, I was somewhat sad when I found out my favorite sweatshirt had been cut to shreds by paramedics, but all considered, I have nothing to complain about.
Reflection:
Most bothersome to me; I NEVER intended to hurt or scare anyone, myself included. It’s a shame that my physical pain yo-yo’ed so out of control that any of this took place. Thanks to the DEA my medical insurance company is shelling out some big bucks after this one. I’m done “playing pharmacist”. At this point, I confided in my doctors (bosses and regular physician) on exact details (again, no need for details and suicide seekers on the net getting hold of this info) and on the road to more definitive treatment. I have a referral and pending appointment with a pain specialist in the area to see if perhaps localized pain injections or other reasonable medicinal methods might be more appropriate. Also for myself, I am seeking counseling, as I don’t ever want to get to a point pain-wise that I’m in such a crisis that I think death is the only answer. So many flaws in the healthcare system though. How could anyone afford the aftermath of my recent issues and go on to heal? Shutting down and/or decreasing the power of the DEA would sure be a good start.
