It's been four days since I took my last chip of Percoset. It was roughly 1/16th of a pill. I was tired of the whole business and it seemed likely my symptoms wouldn't be a lot worse than they already were. It was pretty intense for the next 24 hours. Since then it has been slowly getting better. I think I've got another two or three days of discomfort to go. Mostly the stomach thing. But the great news is I slept all night last night! That was a first since breaking my arm 3 months ago.
I had a follow-up appointment with my surgeon yesterday. I could see on the x-rays where my humerus had healed. I have a lot of work to do for the next year but the doctor thinks I could regain close to 100% of my range of motion. It is moving better and hurting less. I'm on the mend.
I've written a letter to the folks at my HMO. The first sentence reads, "[My HMO] gatekeepers were unresponsive, unsympathetic, and inappropriate when I asked for help withdrawing from Percoset." It goes on to describe how my HMO failed to offer assistance when I realized I was hooked on my pain killers and hadn't a clue how to stop taking them. It's a really ripping read, let me tell you!
I took a copy of the letter to the follow-up appointment with my surgeon. It was 2 PM so I was right in the middle of the worst withdrawal of the day. It always gets pretty yucky in the middle of the day. So there I was all edgey and extra-sensitive while trying to relate a rather emotion-laden series of events. I think I'm pretty expansive in my communication style under normal circumstance. This was not normal. So I probably appeared a bit unglued. I certainly felt that way.
Oh, well, as my dear friend Dawn might say. I have a strong opinion about being left on my own to deal with narcotic withdrawal and I wasn't going to sugarcoat it.
Despite my exuberant and impassioned presentation the doctor encouraged me to send the letter. So I'm sending it. Then we'll see if anything happens.
Meantime, I still have some detoxing to do.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
SRD 30: It's All About the Smack
I'm still withdrawing from Percoset and it sucks. Imagine waking up everyday knowing you will feel like a piece of old cheese for anywhere from an hour to all afternoon. I say "like a piece of old cheese" because I really don't know how to describe the physical and mental intrusions caused by withdrawal. This is one of those things you cannot know unless you've experienced it. All those years working with social model recovery folks I had to just believe what they said--it takes a drunk/junkie/addict to help a drunk/junkie/addict. Now I know why.
When I came home from family camp I could see I'd be tapering, and withdrawing, for at least another couple weeks. The person I needed to talk to was Wendy. The ONLY person I'd met who has actually gotten off prescription pain pills. The only person I trust to get it. She delivered the bad news without exerting any energy to soften the blow. Withdrawal symptoms are more likely to worsen than improve as the dose is tapered. This can be mitigated a bit by taking the process real slow. But, basically, it's going to get worse.
How do people do this? I have an ideal situation: comfortable and stable home; reliable spouse/partner; grown, relatively self-sufficient children; access to acupuncture; and financial security. And yet this is really, really difficult. How do women with small children, no partner, no roof, or unpaid bills do this?
I would just take the damn pills. I wouldn't be able to do any of it while having withdrawal symptoms--drag myself through a day at work, attend to the needs of a dependent child, or plan, shop for and prepare meals. I can barely manage this WITH the hot tub in the backyard. And I've got another two weeks to go.
Here's the plan; I started out at one pill every 4 - 6 hours. I knocked my dose to 1/2 pill every 4 hours to start tapering. Ten days later I reduced to 3/8 of a pill every 4 hours. Now I'm taking 1/4 of a pill. Soon I'll drop to 1/8 of a pill. Wendy says it will be bad again for several days, maybe a week. But after that I plan to start dropping doses. The 3 AM will be the first to go. Then maybe the 3 PM.
I'll let you know how it goes.
When I came home from family camp I could see I'd be tapering, and withdrawing, for at least another couple weeks. The person I needed to talk to was Wendy. The ONLY person I'd met who has actually gotten off prescription pain pills. The only person I trust to get it. She delivered the bad news without exerting any energy to soften the blow. Withdrawal symptoms are more likely to worsen than improve as the dose is tapered. This can be mitigated a bit by taking the process real slow. But, basically, it's going to get worse.
How do people do this? I have an ideal situation: comfortable and stable home; reliable spouse/partner; grown, relatively self-sufficient children; access to acupuncture; and financial security. And yet this is really, really difficult. How do women with small children, no partner, no roof, or unpaid bills do this?
I would just take the damn pills. I wouldn't be able to do any of it while having withdrawal symptoms--drag myself through a day at work, attend to the needs of a dependent child, or plan, shop for and prepare meals. I can barely manage this WITH the hot tub in the backyard. And I've got another two weeks to go.
Here's the plan; I started out at one pill every 4 - 6 hours. I knocked my dose to 1/2 pill every 4 hours to start tapering. Ten days later I reduced to 3/8 of a pill every 4 hours. Now I'm taking 1/4 of a pill. Soon I'll drop to 1/8 of a pill. Wendy says it will be bad again for several days, maybe a week. But after that I plan to start dropping doses. The 3 AM will be the first to go. Then maybe the 3 PM.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Friday, August 1, 2008
SRD16 Resuming this blog
Let's see, I think the topic was P.G. Wodehouse.
My husband started reading aloud to me many years ago, I don't remember exactly when. I do remember we were on vacation, we were in bed, and the book was The Heart of a Goof. I was laughing so hard I had to sit up and will myself to stop so I could catch a breath. It was several years before reading aloud at bedtime became a near-nightly ritual. I think it evolved after our son no longer required my husband to read to him at night. Over the years, we have tried other authors--the names of which I do not recall--but no one else works as well as Wodehouse.
The world occupied by Wodehouse characters is entirely free of serious hardship of any kind. Young people are temporarily thwarted in their efforts to marry the girl/boy of their dreams. Practical jokes go terribly wrong, threatening to cast nephews into ill favor with their aunts. Feuds between elderly country squires cause friends and relations to conspire for their reconciliation. Golf is a religion of sorts. In short, nothing that might lead to nightmares ever happens in a Wodehouse story. You can safely drift off in mid chapter without fear of introducing strife or conflict into your dreams.
And that is exactly what I do every single night. My husband reads from whatever book we are working on , stopping periodically to ask, "Shall I continue?" I follow the tale for anywhere from 30 seconds to 20 minutes. If I fail to answer his query, my husband repeats the question. If I fail to respond the third time, he places the bookmark in the book and puts it away for the night. If I answer, he continues reading for another few minutes before asking the question yet again.
I was recently informed, since breaking my shoulder two months ago, the rules have changed a bit. He quits the moment he hears me snore. If I answer, "Shall I continue?" in the affirmative, he is not above quizzing me to see if I'm really awake. I can often repeat the last word but have no idea what else he has just read. That gets me cut off too.
I know what you are thinking. Why does he put up with me falling asleep every night while he is trying to read to me? I can only answer that the ritual seems to work for him as well as it works for me. If it ain't broke you really don't need to fix it.
These days I need P. G. Wodehouse as much as I need my little 1/2 pill of Percoset every four hours. It is, fortunately, a much more benign addiction.
Hiatus: I'll be away for a week. Look for new posts starting around August 11
My husband started reading aloud to me many years ago, I don't remember exactly when. I do remember we were on vacation, we were in bed, and the book was The Heart of a Goof. I was laughing so hard I had to sit up and will myself to stop so I could catch a breath. It was several years before reading aloud at bedtime became a near-nightly ritual. I think it evolved after our son no longer required my husband to read to him at night. Over the years, we have tried other authors--the names of which I do not recall--but no one else works as well as Wodehouse.
The world occupied by Wodehouse characters is entirely free of serious hardship of any kind. Young people are temporarily thwarted in their efforts to marry the girl/boy of their dreams. Practical jokes go terribly wrong, threatening to cast nephews into ill favor with their aunts. Feuds between elderly country squires cause friends and relations to conspire for their reconciliation. Golf is a religion of sorts. In short, nothing that might lead to nightmares ever happens in a Wodehouse story. You can safely drift off in mid chapter without fear of introducing strife or conflict into your dreams.
And that is exactly what I do every single night. My husband reads from whatever book we are working on , stopping periodically to ask, "Shall I continue?" I follow the tale for anywhere from 30 seconds to 20 minutes. If I fail to answer his query, my husband repeats the question. If I fail to respond the third time, he places the bookmark in the book and puts it away for the night. If I answer, he continues reading for another few minutes before asking the question yet again.
I was recently informed, since breaking my shoulder two months ago, the rules have changed a bit. He quits the moment he hears me snore. If I answer, "Shall I continue?" in the affirmative, he is not above quizzing me to see if I'm really awake. I can often repeat the last word but have no idea what else he has just read. That gets me cut off too.
I know what you are thinking. Why does he put up with me falling asleep every night while he is trying to read to me? I can only answer that the ritual seems to work for him as well as it works for me. If it ain't broke you really don't need to fix it.
These days I need P. G. Wodehouse as much as I need my little 1/2 pill of Percoset every four hours. It is, fortunately, a much more benign addiction.
Hiatus: I'll be away for a week. Look for new posts starting around August 11
SRD14 - We interrupt this blog
After whining in my last post about finding a comfortable position in which to sleep, I had to report this breaking news.
Yesterday, my PT, let's call him Wayne, showed me how to get a better night's sleep. It involves wearing my sling, lying on my back and placing a pillow on my stomach. I rest my arm on the pillow and viola! I can relax and go to sleep just like a normal person.
Now, you may be asking yourself why I didn't figure this out by myself. Good question. But I do not care. I'm just happy to be able to settle down without twitching around like a manic cat.
Yesterday, my PT, let's call him Wayne, showed me how to get a better night's sleep. It involves wearing my sling, lying on my back and placing a pillow on my stomach. I rest my arm on the pillow and viola! I can relax and go to sleep just like a normal person.
Now, you may be asking yourself why I didn't figure this out by myself. Good question. But I do not care. I'm just happy to be able to settle down without twitching around like a manic cat.
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