The CDRP is discreetly located on the second floor above a discount restaurant supply on a major downtown thoroughfare. My husband and I arrived around 9:30 AM.
When I returned my completed forms to the receptionist, he told me one of the "facilitators" would be with me right after the current group meeting.
The spacious, sunny waiting area filled with participants when the meeting broke up a few minutes later. A man and woman, each wearing staff badges, conferred briefly in the hallway. Then the woman approached me.
I'm thinking, "Ah, they decided I should talk to the female counselor because I'm a woman."
By previous agreement, I kissed my husband goodbye and followed "Wendy" to her office. It was a good size room, filled with sunlight from tall windows overlooking the street below. We sat in side chairs facing each other in front of the windows.
"So," Wendy began, "I've taken a look at your paperwork. It looks like you're here because of Percoset."
I feel a great weight lifted from my shoulders. I'm talking to someone who actually knows something about Percoset withdrawal. I can finally get the help I need.
I proceed to fill Wendy in on the last eight weeks of my life--breaking my shoulder, flying home, the first surgery, the second surgery, and my recent realization that I'm hooked on the pills. I told her how it had been pulling teeth to get a referral to the CDRP. It was only when I finished my story that I noticed Wendy looked uncomfortable.
"I'm not sure how to tell you this," she said, shifting her position in the chair. "We're really not set up to serve people like you. The CDRP is for addicts. You're not addicted to Percoset. You're physically dependent, but you didn't take it to get high, you only took it for pain. To treat you here you'd have to do the whole program. That means coming here for most of the day, everyday for a couple weeks. Can you do that?"
I felt like the floor had just dropped out from under me. Like Alice, I was falling down the rabbit hole. The lovely Victorian office building was just a stage set for the absurdist play of my life.
"The system failed," she continued. "Your regular doctor should have been able to help you handle this problem."
Tomorrow: hitting bottom
Showing posts with label percoset withdrawal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label percoset withdrawal. Show all posts
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
SRD9 Intervention
Close readers of this blog probably already figured out why the Percoset I've been taking no longer touches my pain, and I can't stop taking it because I get withdrawal symptoms. I finally got the memo today. I'm addicted. Shit.
I started by calling my surgeon's nurse to ask for assistance. I left a message in his mailbox.
It had been several hours since my last pill and I was already feeling petty squirrely. So, rather than wait around for my surgeon to get back to me, I decided to try calling my regular doctor's office too. The way that works with my HMO is you call a central number and speak to an "advice nurse". The advice nurse asked why I was calling, so I explained that I'd been taking Percoset for seven weeks, I'd developed tolerance and although I wanted to stop taking it I was afraid to stop because the symptoms were so unpleasant. Her reply took me by surprise. She actually said, "I don't know if there's anything you can do about that."
After a brief, stunned silence I said, "Maybe not, but there are people who specialize in detox and I want to talk to one."
"Oh," she said, like that sounded like a good idea, "let me see what I can find out."
While I was on hold I thought, "Is it possible this person whose title is "advice nurse" doesn't have a protocol for responding to patients who call for help with drug addiction?"
When the advice nurse returned to the phone she had a number for me to call. "It's called the Chemical Dependency Recover Program," she said, like shed never heard of it before now. She was obviously reading to me from a brochure or flyer when she told me the hours and address of the CDRP.
I am grateful, truly grateful for the information. But I am appalled that she might have failed to refer me if I hadn't known about addiction specialists.
I called the number and learned I could drop in the next morning and talk to a counselor. I relaxed a little and had started thinking about how to manage my symptoms for the next 18 hours when the phone rang. It was the "triage nurse" from my surgeon's office returning my call. She thought I was running out of pain medication. Once again I explained the situation. "I've been taking Percoset since May 30th," I said. "But now it's not really working as well and I want to stop taking it but I get these awful symptoms."
I didn't get a chance to tell her I had found out about the CDRP and planned to walk in to the clinic in the morning.
"Well what did you expect," she cut in. "You knew you wouldn't be taking those pills forever didn't you? It can be very tough to stop."
I started to come unglued. "That is so not helpful," I answered. "You might want to ask the folks at your Chemical Dependence Recovery Program what you should say when a patient says she is experiencing withdrawal. Since the HMO already offers the service, you might as well be able to refer people who are asking for help."
Tomorrow: the CDRP
I started by calling my surgeon's nurse to ask for assistance. I left a message in his mailbox.
It had been several hours since my last pill and I was already feeling petty squirrely. So, rather than wait around for my surgeon to get back to me, I decided to try calling my regular doctor's office too. The way that works with my HMO is you call a central number and speak to an "advice nurse". The advice nurse asked why I was calling, so I explained that I'd been taking Percoset for seven weeks, I'd developed tolerance and although I wanted to stop taking it I was afraid to stop because the symptoms were so unpleasant. Her reply took me by surprise. She actually said, "I don't know if there's anything you can do about that."
After a brief, stunned silence I said, "Maybe not, but there are people who specialize in detox and I want to talk to one."
"Oh," she said, like that sounded like a good idea, "let me see what I can find out."
While I was on hold I thought, "Is it possible this person whose title is "advice nurse" doesn't have a protocol for responding to patients who call for help with drug addiction?"
When the advice nurse returned to the phone she had a number for me to call. "It's called the Chemical Dependency Recover Program," she said, like shed never heard of it before now. She was obviously reading to me from a brochure or flyer when she told me the hours and address of the CDRP.
I am grateful, truly grateful for the information. But I am appalled that she might have failed to refer me if I hadn't known about addiction specialists.
I called the number and learned I could drop in the next morning and talk to a counselor. I relaxed a little and had started thinking about how to manage my symptoms for the next 18 hours when the phone rang. It was the "triage nurse" from my surgeon's office returning my call. She thought I was running out of pain medication. Once again I explained the situation. "I've been taking Percoset since May 30th," I said. "But now it's not really working as well and I want to stop taking it but I get these awful symptoms."
I didn't get a chance to tell her I had found out about the CDRP and planned to walk in to the clinic in the morning.
"Well what did you expect," she cut in. "You knew you wouldn't be taking those pills forever didn't you? It can be very tough to stop."
I started to come unglued. "That is so not helpful," I answered. "You might want to ask the folks at your Chemical Dependence Recovery Program what you should say when a patient says she is experiencing withdrawal. Since the HMO already offers the service, you might as well be able to refer people who are asking for help."
Tomorrow: the CDRP
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