Posts Tagged ‘painkillers’

It sure feels to me like the police want warrant-less searches when they think they ought be allowed to paw through prescription records.  Looking for painkillers they say.

Sheriffs in North Carolina want access to state computer records identifying anyone with prescriptions for powerful painkillers and other controlled substances.

The state sheriff’s association pushed the idea Tuesday, saying the move would help them make drug arrests and curb a growing problem of prescription drug abuse. But patient advocates say opening up people’s medicine cabinets to law enforcement would deal a devastating blow to privacy rights.  http://www.newsobserver.com/2010/09/08/669723/lists-of-pain-pillpatients-sought.html

Those of you who know me know that my neck is… uhm… uh… kind of screwed up.  Yes, there are days when painkillers are needed and I thank God whenever that is an option, rather than having to just suffer through it.  When you are in enough pain to immobilize you, time does not pass, and every moment is an eternity.  We’re not talking about a headache or a sprained ankle here.  I’m lucky in that a lot of days it is at a tolerable level and I can get by.  No, I’m not “all better” and probably won’t ever be like I was, but I’m better off than I was before these latest procedures.

Yes, there are lots of people who fake it.  Yes, there are lots of sphincters who turn around and sell the stuff for an ugly obscene amount of coin.  But the problem is, there’s an awful lot of nice people who really are in pain.  I’ve been in the pain clinics getting procedures done on my neck and I have seen those people – and your heart bleeds for them.  They aren’t just older folks – young, middle-aged, old, men and women of all walks of life.  I listened for a half hour while the woman in the bed next to me sobbed, asking them to make it stop.  They could not just bump the person in the procedure room and told her they’d get her in there as soon as they possibly could.

My point is that doctors are already scared that police are going to be watching them through the DEA and if you add the process of following people based on their prescriptions they just aren’t as likely to treat people who have real need and should be treated.

This… this part though, makes me call bullsh*t.

Sheriffs made their pitch Tuesday to a legislative health care committee looking for ways to confront prescription drug abuse. Local sheriffs said that more people in their counties die of accidental overdoses than from homicides.

For years, sheriffs have been trying to convince legislators that the state’s prescription records should be open to them.

“We can better go after those who are abusing the system,” said Lee County Sheriff Tracy L. Carter.

If we’re concerned about accidental overdoses (save the people) then why would we in the next breath state that we can better go after those who are abusing the system?  In short order they go from saving victims to presuming guilt, which was the issue for the police all along.

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Update Sat. 6:30pm.

Still here.  Increased pain again.  Going to call the doc about this – it is beyond ridiculous.  Who knows what is going on?


Update: Sat. 1pm

Up.  Got to sleep at 6am. Slept until 5 minutes ago.

Cruel Wife is sick.  I’m out of commission and the kids are healthy as really mischievous horses.  So, Aggie… would you come up and borrow the children temporarily?  I know the south is a long way to come from to get to Michigan, but, wouldja?


Update:  3:19AM  Still feel like freeze-dried dog barf.

I’ve asked Cruel Wife three times today for “a suicide pill with a mild laxative side-effect” and she tells me every time that we’re fresh out, that she took the last one.  Whatever happened to the marriage vows of “Love, honor, obey, and don’t-take-the-last-suicide-pill-with-the-mild-laxative-side-effect”?

I guess I’ll just have to live with 1 out of 4, right?


Thank GOD for painkillers.  I’ve been at a 7-8 on the pain scale for a while now and through a miraculous combination of vicodin, ibuprofen, and -yes- benadryl, I am able to sit here in my chair with ice on my neck and type this.

If it had gotten any worse I’d have asked Cruel Wife to drive me to the hospital.  When she hears me say “I’d kill for dilaudid right now” she knows to be concerned because it is bad.

I’m not comfortable, not by a long shot, but the sharp jaggy broken-shards-of-glass edges are taken off.

So no graphics today.  I have been working on a North Korean cookbook cover but it’ll have to wait a day.

I’ll talk at y’all tomorrow.  I’m going to sleep if I can.

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Update:  I will try to blog the interesting parts tonight when I’m feeling a little more human.  Jittery as a colt and frankly, as advertised, hurt. Taking meds to get on top of the pain cycle now.  More later.  Thanks for all your kind wishes and thoughts.


Today (Tuesday) I go in for a Radio-Frequency Ablation treatment.  They are going to find the nerves in my neck that were given the what-for back in the auto accident of ’07, stick a wire in ’em, and burn the little effin’ things until they die.  You heard that right – they basically microwave the nerve to death.

Yes, I know.  This is reported by several acquaintances as being pretty damned painful, especially for the ten days, maybe 14 days, and surely no longer than 6 weeks, that it takes for the rest of the nerve to actually die… die… die…  So until that time I guess life won’t be a bed of roses.  Not that it is right now, anyway.  Was at an 8.5 on the scale of 1-10 for pain today because I refused to take any painkillers until past any reasonable time.  I just hate being fuzzy.

But, if it is a light at the end of this tunnel so I can get a drug-free active life back… sign me up.  They only do one side of the neck at a time, so this will be a four-month endeavor.

Wish me luck.  Please.


Ok, it’s just 2-1/2 hours away and I’m blogging.  Nervousness, fear, loathing, trepidation, and hope.  All blended together like a chinese blood bank.

A great article points out that anti-Obama parafe… paraphnal… perapher… stuff is selling quite well.  HTOVWOFY, people?

In that article… one paragraph says this:

A poll of likely voters by Rasmussen Reports, released Thursday, found that 32 percent “strongly approve” of the way the president is doing his job, while 38 percent “strongly disapprove.” Overall, 49 percent at least ?somewhat approve? of his performance, and 51 percent at least somewhat disapprove.

Uh… that adds up to 170%, right?  Damn new age maths.  I mean yeah, sure, I can do differential equations and vector mathematics but can’t add numbers or balance a checkbook to save my life, but even I can see that the way they wrote that paragraph suckeths mightily.


A Washington Times article titled “Angry Rich Liberals” was especially fun to read.  You know why?  Because I’m tired of being told by everyone else that I’m the problem.  I’m apparently a co-conspirator in global warming, the oppression of blacks, domestic abuse, home-grown terrorism, ad pseudo-infinitum, ad nauseum.  It starts with Algore, chattering like a squirrel, demonizing everyone else but himself and his fellow fart-sniffers.

The rest of us would find these environmental scolds more convincing if they chose to live modestly in average tract homes. That way, they could limit their energy consumption and provide living proof to us of how smaller is better for an endangered planet Earth.

Critics in the business of racial grievance offer the same contradictions.

Recently, Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. got into a spat with a white policeman who arrested him in his own home for disorderly conduct. Mr. Gates immediately cried racism. He argued that his plight was emblematic of the burdens the black underclass endures daily from a racist white America.

However, Mr. Gates is one of the highest-paid humanities professors in the United States. And Mr. Gates – not the middle-class Cambridge, Mass., white cop — engaged in shouting and brought up race.


Yet this well-connected, well-paid man apparently wants us to believe in melodramatic fashion that he is living in something like the United States of decades ago.


We have more of the rich on the barricades railing about the economic inequality of America. Former Democratic Sen. John Edwards of North Carolina preached about “two Americas,” one poor and abandoned, one wealthy and connected. Mr. Edwards should know because he built himself a gargantuan multimillion-dollar mansion in which he might better contemplate the underprivileged outside his compound.

Sen. Christopher Dodd, Connecticut Democrat, sermonizes about corporate greed and credit card companies’ near-extortion. Nonetheless, Mr. Dodd managed to squeeze out of the corporate world a low-interest loan, a sweetheart deal for a vacation home in Ireland, and thousands in campaign donations.

Former senator and Cabinet nominee Tom Daschle of South Dakota was a big proponent of raising taxes to nationalize our health care system. The problem was that the populist Mr. Daschle both hated paying taxes and loved limousines — and so avoided the former but welcomed the latter.


Now the most vehement critics of America’s purported sins are among the upper classes. These critics’ parlor game has confused Americans about why they are being called polluters, racists and exploiters by those who have fared best in America.

Do the wealthy and the powerful lecture us about our wrongs because they know their own insider status ensures that they are exempt from the harsh medicine they advocate for others?


Here’s a little advice for all of America’s wealthy critics: a little less hypocrisy, a little more appreciation of your good lives — and then maybe the rest of us will listen to you a little more.

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