At this very moment Dr. Whackadoo and Dr. No-Fly are duking it out over my medications. I wish I could get them in the same room and mediate. No-Fly says Whackadoo's meds are poison. Whackadoo says I must take the crap he's prescribed AS prescribed. I am inclined to agree with
Dr. No-Fly, unfortunately I just can't stop taking these drugs, as much as I'd like to do it.
The subject of today's battle in particular is Neurontin, aka Gabapentin, which has turned me into a rag doll. I'm weak, short of breath with any movement, unable to walk more than 20 feet - plus...THE KNIFE IN MY CHEST IS KILLING ME. How many times do I have to tell them that before someone hears? This drug is obviously not helping my pain. The whole reason Whackadoo exists is to treat pain. Nothing else, just pain.
Let me give you today's pain example: This morning in the bathtub, gingerly wiping *Lefty* with a soapy washrag caused me to scream and gasp for breath. WTF?
Dr. Whackadoo is a small, scrawny man. I could easily crush him with one blow, even in my weakened state. I think constantly about crushing Whackadoo. I think about grinding my heel into his adam's apple after he's hit the floor. Of course, this crushing and grinding does not happen until I've fastened a bulldog binder clip to each of his nipples and given them several twists, so he has a slight inkling of how my chest feels. I'd have to tie him up first because I know he'd never hold still. He's the type that would go all squirmy and piss himself in the face of any threat. That, and I can't run him down due to having the legs of a rag doll. Well-played, Dr. Whackadoo--incapacitate the linebacker-sized woman with drugs BEFORE she does you great bodily harm. Pfft.
I can lay on my couch. I can walk to my bathroom. I can walk into my garage and get in the car. I can feed my dogs and let them out. If it's not boiling hot outside, I can even stand on my patio while the dogs are doing their dog things. I really can't do much else, other than watch life go on around me without being a part of it. So, if some tragic event happens to befall Dr. Whackadoo, I have a perfect alibi. Unless the Memphis PD has a Jedi Mind Trick or Voodoo Department I figure I'm safe. Oh, but a girl can dream...
It still amazes me that after all this time they havent stopped to ask the question "why is there still this much pain and trauma this far after the operation?" Even with the sternum issue removed from the table, the soft tissue should have recovered by now. (such is my unqualified, uneducated opinion, with no valid medical backgroud to support it) Jw
ReplyDeleteTheir answer is nerve damage/nerve pain, hence the prescribing of the drug, Neurontin, which is supposed to specifically address *nerve pain* but whose primary use is for the treatment of epilepsy. ::sigh:: I don't know what to do. Maybe whine to the cardiologist, who seems to be the only one who gives a crap about my condition, and maybe he can find me a new pain doctor. One cannot just walk into a pain clinic, there must be a referral.
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