As many of you know, I had major surgery on my spine in August. By all accounts, the surgery was a success. Three months later, I am still recovering from the surgery. That said, I am being hammered on every side by chronic pain, gastroparesis, exocrine pancreatic insufficiency (EPI), fibromyalgia, and degenerative spine disease — all of which are incurable. These diseases are my cross to bear. My cross is increasingly heavy, leaving me, some days, in despair. I am also having a blood pressure problem. I am on three blood pressure medications, yet it wildly fluctuates. My primary care doctor made several adjustments to my medications, hoping this will lead to better numbers.
Thanks to a major gastroparesis flare-up and EPI, I am constantly nauseous, and since October 1, I have lost twenty-five pounds. I am on protein supplement shakes so I get enough calories in my diet.
For these reasons, my ability to write is limited, as I am sure you have noticed. My writing production has dropped precipitously. There’s little I can do other than hope for a better day. I saw a new pain doctor who put me on a buprenorphine patch, which is slowly being titrated. The doctor required that I stop using cannabis, which had helped with my pain and nausea. The doctors giveth, the doctors taketh away.
I am woefully behind on answering emails and sending thank-you notes to donors. I apologize for my tardiness, but there’s nothing I can do to change things. I hope things get better soon, and if and when they do, I will do my best to catch up on my correspondence. In time, I hope I can return to a fuller writing schedule. For now, what you see is what you get.
By the way, Polly will have her right knee replaced on December 30. She will be off work for eight weeks.
I appreciate your understanding as I navigate this new normal in my life.
Your kindness, love, and support are greatly appreciated.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Over and over and over again, for two hours, an elderly Charismatic Christian woman in a hospital bed near mine, lay on her bed with hands extended to the ceiling, pleading for Jesus/God to come to her and make his presence known. She had just had surgery and was in a tremendous amount of pain. Pain medications were ineffective, so she turned to Jesus — the ultimate pain reliever. As a former devout Evangelical, I understand the woman’s pleas. As a pastor suffering from chronic illness and pain, I daily pleaded with God to deliver me from my suffering; or at the very least lessen my pain so I could sleep and do the work of the ministry. Alas, not one of my prayers was answered by God. At the time, I believed that if God didn’t answer my prayers, he was using my pain and suffering to either punish me, correct me, or for his glory. God always got a free pass.
Fortunately, after two hours of crying out to Jesus, he finally showed up! Just kidding. What showed up was a nurse with a syringe filled with high-powered narcotics. Soon, the woman fell asleep, ending her pleas to God. When she awoke, family and medical staff alike comforted her so she would no longer hysterically cry out for an imaginary pain-alleviating deity. Her suffering was alleviated, not by God, but by medically trained and compassionate human beings.
I genuinely felt sorry for the woman, knowing that Jesus was not going to show himself to her; that all the prayers, Bible verses, and worship were no match for severe pain; and that narcotics are the best tool medical professionals have in their toolbox to alleviate suffering.
I understand why Evangelicals turn to Jesus when suffering, but he is little more than a placebo. Jesus has never made a pain go away. He has no power to palliate suffering. How could he? Jesus is dead. Sure, prayer/meditation/positive mental attitude/mindfulness can help reduce pain; they are, after all, placebos. If you want to put this to the test, the next time you have surgery, ask the surgeon to do it without anesthesia or ask him to NOT give you narcotic pain meds post-surgery. None of us, I suspect, is willing to do this, even Holy Ghost-filled Christians. When we are in pain, we want the best post-surgery pain relievers. We want pain relievers because they work.
Nurses kept this woman sedated for the duration of my stay. I am grateful she found relief from her pain, even if her God had nothing to do with it.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Total cost was $45,000. Surgeon got 8% of the cost. I’m glad we have medical insurance.
I’m home. 🏠 I had to stay an extra day. Lots of pain. A bit better today. I’m on OxyCodone and Zanaflex. Oh, and Tylenol too — medicine’s cure for pain. 🤬🤬 (I’ll be writing about my pain experiences in the days ahead.) I’m using cannabis too.
Some complications that I hope are temporary. Feet are numb. This should go away, in time. Could be permanent too. When nerves are compressed for as long as mine were, there’s no telling what will happen when you decompress them. Sometimes the damage can’t be reversed.
Biting low back pain is gone, as is awful pain in buttocks, back of legs — all the way to my feet. I still have degenerative spine disease elsewhere, with numerous herniated discs and other damage, but decompressing L4-L5 was necessary unless I wanted permanent paralysis and loss of bowel/bladder control. Come to find out, this was a congenital problem. Always has been lurking in the shadows. It just got worse over time. I first saw a doctor for low back pain at age 20.
Of course, my osteoarthritis, fibromyalgia, gastroparesis, and exocrine pancreatic insufficiency (EPI) remain. These, sadly, are incurable. Regardless, I am glad for whatever relief the surgery provides. My goal was less pain and being able to walk again. So far, I’m on the right path.
Biggest concern? Last few years I’ve had a sweating (Hyperhidrosis) problem that no doctor has been able to figure out. When I fall asleep—no matter the duration—I sweat profusely. I mean soak the clothes, sheets, blanket, pillows wet. My body temp is normal when this is happening. Post surgery? The sweating is much worse. Once I’m up on my feet, I plan to see an endocrinologist. Pretty bad my bedding has to be changed twice a day.
Still waiting to see if bladder/bowels return to normal.
I plan to use my walker to do some walking.🚶Maybe to the post office and back — about 4 blocks. My RN nurse sister thinks that may be too much, too soon, but she knows I’m always right, even when I’m wrong. 🤣🤣 Baby sisters, right? (Yes, my humor is starting to return.)
Thanks for caring. 😘 Your words of kindness and support were/are greatly appreciated. ❤️❤️
PS. The cats 🐈⬛ were all waiting at the door 🚪 for me when I came home. Did they miss me? Or did they just think I had food? 🍲❤️❤️🤣🤣 I know I missed them.
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.
Evangelicals “say” they are indwelt by the Holy Spirit. He is their teacher and guide, giving them everything necessary for life and godliness. Galatians 5:22,23 says the fruit (evidence) of the Spirit is
Love
Joy
Peace
Longsuffering
Gentleness
Goodness
Faith
Meekness
Temperance
in the lives of believers. People say they are followers of Jesus, yet when you examine their lives for evidence of the fruit of the Spirit, they are sorely lacking, if not altogether bereft of any evidence of God living inside of them. The evidence of true faith is not what you believe, but how you live. Jesus had a lot to say about how Christians should treat their enemies. It seems that most Evangelical Bibles are missing the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7 and Matthew 25).
Think about the countless Evangelical apologists who have commented on this site, contacted me on social media, or emailed me directly. What conclusion would we come to if we judged them by their works (fruit)?
Yesterday, I wrote a heartfelt, personal post about my health problems and my struggles with suicidal thoughts. Readers responded as decent, thoughtful people would; with love, kindness, and compassion. Of course, Revival Fires and Dr. David Tee, whose real name is Derrick Thomas Thiessen, weighed in too, but their words lacked empathy.
3. We thought we gave BG [Bruce Gerencser] a reason to live 🙂
BG [Bruce Gerencser] whines in another post about why he has not taken his own life. He thinks about it because of all the pain he is in and all the medical problems he has. Now he has to face an operation and we do not gloat or make fun of these troubles.
While we [I] thought we [I] were [was] giving him good motivation to live. In atheists’ minds, there are few better reasons to live than to attack a Christian fundamentalist or EvangelicaL [sic] Seriously, he lists some very good reasons why he endures the pain and ailments he suffers from.
In our [my] hearts today, we [I] feel empathy for him and wish we [I] had the gift of healing. Then we [I] would ask God to heal BG for pure reasons, one being to finally show BG that God exists. Since we [I] do not have that gift, we [I] ask those who do to prayerfully consider bringing God’s healing to BG [Bruce Gerencser].
It would be nice to see him have a pain and sick-free end of life and make the quality of his life better. We hold nothing against BG [Bruce Gerencser] or MM [Ben Berwick] and do not want to see them come to any harm. For those who have doubts about doing this, I remind them of the example Jesus provided. People brought their suffering friends and loved ones to Jesus and he healed them all.
BG [Bruce Gerencser] qualifies for healing because he is not excluded from the term ‘everyone’. It may be too late for BG [Bruce Gerencser] and his wife to return to the faith, but his healing would greatly influence his children and grandchildren giving them the opportunity to see that God exists and make the right decision to go to heaven.
Right out of the gate, Thiessen says I am whining about my pain and suffering. Anything he says after this is meaningless. Who says to a sick, dying man, “Stop whining”? Thiessen has repeatedly hurled the “whining” accusation at me over the past three years. Any openness and honesty about the physical difficulties I face is whining in his book.
Thiessen says he is not gloating or making fun of me, but he is not being honest. He believes my pain and suffering are God’s way of getting my attention or punishing me. (Jesus could email or text me.) It is far more likely that Thiessen prays, “Pour it on, Jesus.”
Thiessen says he would pray for my healing, but since he doesn’t have the “gift of healing,” he can’t do so. He asks Christians with the “gift of healing to pray for me.”
This is a testable claim. Readers know that I have fibromyalgia, gastroparesis, exocrine pancreatic insufficiency, osteoarthritis, numerous herniated discs, and other structural problems in my cervical, thoracic, and lumbar spine. I have a tear in my right shoulder labrum, diabetes, and high blood pressure. I have plenty of problems for Jesus to work with. With God all things are possible, so if Christians with the ‘gift of healing” prayed for me, I’m certain God answer their prayers.
Thiessen is right. God healing me would be a big deal. So pray away, Christians. If God answers your prayers and heals me, I will renounce my atheism and return to Christianity. If God doesn’t help me, I will assume that either God isn’t listening to your prayers or he doesn’t exist. I have prayed thousands of prayers for my healing, without success. My partner, Polly, has prayed for my deliverance too. Still more crickets. It’s hard not to conclude that God is either pissed off at me, or he doesn’t exist. My money is on the latter.
In June, Thiessen wrote thirty posts about me and/or my British friend, Ben Berwick. Can anyone say “obsessed”? I offered to send Thiessen a semi-nude photo of me wearing my rainbow suspenders. He could either put my picture on his bedroom ceiling or his nightstand. Both of us have written posts that mention Thiessen, but our posts are responses to his incessant personal attacks or misuse of our content. If Thiessen would stop stealing our content and move on to other subjects or people, neither of us would mention him again. Trust me, contrary to Thiessen’s delusions, responding to him doesn’t give me a reason to live.
Thiessen has permitted me to share his email address: kinship29@yahoo.com. Since Thiessen doesn’t allow comments on his blog and doesn’t have a contact page, I encourage readers to send him an email and let him know what you think about his writing. 🙂
Yes, maybe whining was too strong of a word but his content comes across as major whining to us. After all these years, one would think he had adjusted and could talk about something different than his pain, illnesses, and the fact that he was in the church for 50 years, etc., etc.
One does not have to whine to be open and honest but his Type A personality may not let him tone it down some. Maybe it would do him some good to learn that he is not the only one who suffers from chronic illnesses and pain.
We do not mean anything bad by our terminology but we are sure, he took it that way. We have been told the same thing for years starting from many decades ago so it is a casual comment to us.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Yesterday, I saw a neurosurgeon affiliated with ProMedica in Toledo, Ohio. Over the past three years, I have been dealing with increasing pain in my neck and spine. MRIs revealed numerous herniated discs, arthritis, and other structural deficiencies. While these scans didn’t do anything to help with my pain and debility, they did provide reasons for my suffering.
Three or four months ago, I started having severe pain in my lower back. An MRI two weeks ago — which I had to pay for myself since my insurance company refused to approve the test — revealed that I have disc problems in my lower back too, along with a Tarlov cyst in the sacrum area of my back. From neck to tailbone, my spine is a mess. And it is likely that my disc problems are congenital. Gotta love DNA. As things stand, I am unable to stand straight, or walk more than a few feet at a time, and I have lost bowel and bladder control. Just when I thought things were bad enough . . .
I found the surgeon to be personable, patient, and to the point — traits I admire in a doctor (besides being proficient and competent, of course). He told me that my problem was in the L4-L5 area of my spine. The damage is such that there is pressure on the nerves; the only fix is surgery. Not having surgery is not an option; that is, unless I want to be an incontinent invalid for the rest of my short life.
That said, this 2-3 hour surgery is not without risk. The surgery has a 90 percent success rate, with a 2-3 percent mortality rate. Factor in the fact that I have several comorbidities, my concern about the outcome is warranted.
I have had problems with my lower back my entire adult life. I was 20 when I saw a doctor for the first time about my back, and since then I have seen other doctors who pointed out the narrow disc space in L4 and L5. My mother and father both had back surgery to “fix” low back problems — Dad in 1969, at age 33, and Mom in 1979, at age 43. Both of my siblings have had back surgery, with a varying degree of positive outcomes. My sister is facing more surgery on her neck. Several years ago, we had a friend — who has since died from COVID — who was left crippled and unable to work from low back surgery. It’s hard not to think about these people and their experiences when considering my own back surgery.
Today was my scheduled appointment with my therapist. We talked extensively about my pain, suffering, and prospective surgery. She said, “Bruce you have two choices. Either you have the surgery or you don’t. I replied, “Actually, I have three choices.” I can choose to have the surgery, not have the surgery, or end my life. “Oh, Bruce, that’s not a choice.” Sure it is. It is a choice that I always have as long I am in my right mind and have access to the means of my demise.
There are moments when I want to end my life. I am flat worn out from the constant pain and suffering. (And just because you see me in public smiling or interacting with my family doesn’t mean my pain has suddenly gone away. It hasn’t, and when you see me, I am likely gritting my teeth and crying inwardly as I try to enjoy life and my family as much as possible.) Currently, my pain levels are top-of-the-chart awful. I can, at best, take two or three steps before I feel biting pain in my back, hips, buttocks, hamstrings, and calves; so much so that it doubles me over and takes my breath away.
My therapist asked why I didn’t kill myself, probing for the reason or reasons why I still find life worth living. This question led to a lengthy discussion. My answer was short and to the point; one word, to be exact: FAMILY! The only reason I choose to press forward is Polly, our six children, and sixteen grandchildren. I am ready to die. I am flat worn out from the pain, incontinence, and lack of sleep. I am tired of my wheelchair, my cane, and the struggle to do simple things like taking a shower and brushing my teeth. This sort of life is not worth living, if not for my family.
So why don’t I kill myself?
First, I know what suicide does to those left behind. My mother’s repeated suicide attempts and successful bullet to the heart left deep, lasting scars on my psyche. I would never, ever want to do this to my family.
Second, Polly doesn’t know how to operate the TV or remote control. She needs me. 🙂 (I thought this dark post needed a bit of humor.)
I said to my therapist, “If my family was gathered together at my house and an asteroid hit our home, killing everyone but me, I would have no reason to live.” While it is unlikely that this will happen, my point was this: Family is the reason I get up in the morning. While I love writing and sundry other things, they are not enough to keep me among the living — though $1,000,000 in blog donations might change my mind. 🙂
In recent weeks, I have seen a grandson graduate from kindergarten, and two granddaughters graduate with honors from high school. On Sunday, I am taking my 6-year-old grandson to his first baseball game in Toledo. Two of my granddaughters will be spending the weekend with us, and on Friday, we are going out to eat and then to a baseball game in Fort Wayne with our oldest son and his family. “But, Bruce, what about your pain and other health problems?” Oh, they haven’t gone anywhere. When I do things such as those mentioned above, I take extra pain medication, hoping that will get me through the night. Regardless, I know pain and suffering is the price of admission, and I am willing to pay the price. One thing I know: when I am with family or when they stop by for a visit, I feel better. There are scientific reasons for why this is so, but all I know is that when I see them, I am given strength to push through to another day.
I am not trying to guilt my children into seeing me more often. I know they are busy with life, jobs, and responsibilities. All I am saying is that when I DO see my children, their spouses, and my grandchildren, it makes a difference when it comes to my will to live. I am grateful that I am not a sick, elderly old man whose family never makes time to see him. I always want to see my grandchildren more often, but I am glad that I see them as often as I do. Even when it hurts me to touch or hug them, I still want to see them. When one of my young grandsons runs into the living room to hug me and inadvertently smacks me in the nuts, I still want their hugs and silly words. If you haven’t figured it out yet, pain is not as much of a problem as loneliness is. For me — and I ONLY speak for myself — family matters. I know that may not be the case for some readers. Family can cause pain, and people rightly distance themselves from their families, choosing loneliness or other social connections instead.
As things stand, I plan to have surgery on August 19. I hope when I awake from anesthesia that the first faces I see will be family. If so, it will be another day worth living.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Life is like a spinning plate. In normal circumstances, the plate as it spins is balanced and in control. Occasionally, the plate will become overloaded or unbalanced, but with time will balance itself out, and life will continue along with little to no spillage from the plate.
For people battling chronic illness and pain, their spinning plate is dissimilar to that of many people. Thanks to struggles with pervasive illnesses and unrelenting pain, their plates are already full, spinning wobbly, sending the contents of the plate every which way, and, sometimes, propelling the plate into the wall or floor. Daily, small things are added to the plate, causing further imbalance. The plate owner struggles to keep the plate spinning without crashing. Sometimes he succeeds, sometimes he doesn’t. And when he fails, he makes a mess for all to see, often leading to despair.
For me personally, it is the small things in life that often fuel my depression. I can handle big things, and big decisions. It is the small things that pile up on my plate, leading me to deep, dark — at times suicidal — times in my life; moments when I just want to die. Those are times when narcotic pain medications don’t work effectively or eating food of any type makes me sick or leads to vomiting. Last night, I spent the night into the morning hours in the bathroom — sixteen visits in all. Loose bowels and lack of sphincter muscle control . . . shitty bed, shitty clothes, shitty floors, shitty, shitty, shit everywhere. An accumulation of small things that left me in despair, not wanting to live another day. Fortunately, after dropping eight pounds in less than a day, things have returned to normal — whatever the hell “normal” means.
Every day, the small things change, but their effect on my life is the same, threatening to spin my life’s plate out of control. My therapist and I often talk about small things and how they affect my life. The goal, of course, is to lessen the number of small things in my life; to lessen the small things piling up on my plate. That’s easier said than done. When your bowels say shit, you shit. When your stomach says vomit, you vomit. When your legs and spine leave you writhing in pain, you writhe in pain. Contrary to what the positive mental attitude (PMA) prophets might say, some things are beyond our control. There’s little I can do to change how my body responds to food or nerve and joint pain. I can take medications or use mental techniques to redirect my pain, but there are times when nothing I do works. All I know to do is grit my teeth and hold on, hoping that my suffering will lessen. There’s no healing or deliverance on the horizon. All I can do is endure . . . until I no longer can do so.
I wish I had the luxury of sitting back and enjoying life, but when you have chronic health problems, you have no time to waste on the “good life.” I am at the place in life where I have tied a knot at the end of the rope, and I am hanging on for dear life. I love Polly; I love my children and their spouses; I love my grandchildren; I love my siblings. I live for them. I still have writing I want to do; and a book to finish. I still want to get my house in order, so that when the day comes that my plate comes crashing to the floor one last time, Polly won’t be left with a mess. As it stands now, if I died today, my demise would leave the love of my life in a difficult spot. She deserves better, and so do my children and grandchildren.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Polly had an appointment with her orthopedic doctor today. Major surgery is in the future for her — when is yet to be determined. Afterward, we drove to Archbold to eat lunch. We planned to eat at Samuel Mancinos, but the restaurant is closed on Mondays. Instead, we ate at a Mexican restaurant. I ordered a #18 — a taco, burrito, and rice and beans. I took three bites of the taco and some of the beans and rice before my ever-present nausea turned into feeling like I needed to vomit. I took some Zofran to lessen the need to vomit, sparing me the indignity of throwing up in a public restroom. Our server came to collect our plates. When she saw most of my food went uneaten, she asked, “You didn’t like the food?” I explained why I couldn’t eat my food. She genuinely felt sorry for me, taking my meal off our bill.
This is my life with gastroparesis — an incurable stomach disease. Every day, every week, with no respite in sight. In two weeks, I will have an endoscopy and colonoscopy. After that, I plan to have a gastric peroral endoscopic myotomy. This will hopefully reduce my symptoms. It is NOT a cure.
I have had numerous tests in recent weeks. A stool sample revealed I have an uncommon disease called exocrine pancreatic insufficiency. My pancreas — for an unknown reason — doesn’t make enough digestive enzymes. As a result, my body can’t properly digest food and absorb nutrients. This may be why I am anemic and have low B12, potassium, Vitamin D, and testosterone. I will likely have to go through pancreatic enzyme replacement therapy with expensive drugs.
Throw in fibromyalgia, osteoarthritis, and degenerative spine disease, and I am in a world of hurt. My life is dominated by managing my health and lessening symptoms. My life has been reduced to striving to live another day. Joys that I once took for granted are gone. Eating is one of those joys, and not being able to enjoy food is so depressing I wonder why I keep trying.
As you may have noticed, my writing production has dropped dramatically. My life has pretty much come to a standstill. I am trying, but readers should no longer expect me to generate as much content. I cannot do so, and it seems evident, at least to me, that this is my new normal. Readers should expect less content from me, and if you notice my writing pace has picked up, don’t assume I am “better.” I am not, and I fear my best day is today, with more suffering and pain in my future.
I am 90 days behind on answering emails and social media messages. There’s nothing I can do about this. I will answer them when I can, and, quite frankly, some of them will go unanswered. I have had thoughts about hanging up my blogging spurs, but I enjoy writing, so I can’t bring myself to throw in the towel. All I know to do is manage my symptoms, rest, and do what I can.
Please don’t offer me medical advice. I am seeing competent doctors, to whom I trust my life. They are the experts, and unless given reason to believe otherwise, I trust them. I appreciate your friendship and support, but sending me links to articles and blog posts or questioning my diet, is not helpful. I appreciate your understanding.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Republicans want to cut food, heating, and housing subsidies for poor children and families.This tells me everything I need to know aboutthe Republican Party.
Senator Bob Menendez should be forced to resign from office by his fellow Democratic senators.
It looks like Trump not only inflated his dick size, he also grossly inflated the value of his real estate and business assets.
Some Democrats are calling for candidates to run against Joe Biden. I support this call in the primary. However, come November 2024, the only thing that matters is keeping Trump out of the White House.
Upwards of twenty-three raccoons frequented our backyard this spring and summer. And now that fall has arrived, the raccoons have disappeared, making occasional raids on the food we put out for feral/stray cats.
Chronic illness and pain affects every aspect of my life. Telling me to “put mind over matter” is never the right thing to say. When you say this, I say to myself, “Go fuck yourself.” Continue in your insensitive behavior, I might say this to your face.
“Looks like you are feeling better today,” well-wishers often say. They wrongly judge the quality and level of my suffering by what I do, failing to understand that looks can be deceiving. Just because I’m smiling, doesn’t mean I don’t want to cry. I often smile for others, hiding my pain from them.
Hey, Joe Namath. You had a lifetime 50% pass completion rate, worse than embattled New York Jets quarterback Zach Wilson. STFU. Give the kid the break. Nobody wants to hear from ancient old ex-players. Different era, different game.
Travis Kelce, a Taylor Swift dating, Bud Light drinking promoter of COVID vaccines is upsetting right-wingers with his “woke” behavior. OMG, the meltdowns are fun to watch.
Kevin McCarthy says Biden is to blame for the threatened government shutdown. Sure, Kevin, sure. I bet the hemorrhoid in your arse you affectionately call Matt Gaetz is telling you to say this lest you lose your speakership.
Bonus: I’m increasingly disillusioned with what I see and hear in the larger atheist community. Maybe this is on me. I’ve moved on from the “angry atheist” phase of my life. I’m not that interested anymore in debates about the existence of God.
Dr. David Tee, an Evangelical preacher whose real name is Derrick Thomas Thiessen, mounted his blog pulpit to opine about my use of narcotic medication for chronic pain. Thiessen’s post is in response to Will the War on Chronic Pain Sufferers Ever End?:
We were at the BG website the other day and we read a big whining article about his need for opiates to control his pain. However, he was whining about the rules that govern the usage of opiates and he did not like them.
As usual, he wanted people to break the rules for him and other opiate medication needing pain sufferers. However, he knew the rules and he should not whine. it is life. Governments have a moral responsibility to regulate medications so they are not abused.
He does not like that either but the government is supposed to exist to protect people from themselves among other things. We had a guy like this in Korea. He fought hard tp [pass a law that all NETs had to have a clean criminal record history in order to teach in the country.
We fought against him but his side won. The next thing we read in the Korea Times is an article about his whining that his criminal record, as slight as it was, should be given a pass even though his advocacy led to many people losing their jobs.
He whined about having a family to feed, etc., yet he could no longer teach. He only has himself to blame as he is one of those people, like BG who think their personal circumstances allow them to violate the rules. While everyone else has to follow them.
My post was about how the government is presently waging war against people with chronic pain; how following the rules left me without pain medications for almost five days. I wasn’t whining, I was shouting. Thiessen shows no sympathy or compassion for me. “Just suck it up, BG, them’s the rules.” Spoken like a True Fundamentalist, always following rules.
Thiessen says that I asked people to break the law for me. I most certainly did not, and I can find no evidence that remotely justifies his claim. I have had a handful of readers offer to help me pain-wise over the years; people willing to commit a crime to get me what I need (This is the third time in recent years that I have had to go through withdrawals due to pharmacies not having my medication.) I always say no, save for the time a reader sent me some Kratom and CBD products. I have never asked someone to break the law for me. I would never knowingly risk the freedom and economic security of others just for pain relief.
I am, however, quite willing to break the law myself, and that’s exactly what I did on Thursday. We drove to Michigan to check out a cannabis store. We had a delightful time, both driving through Amish country and perusing the store’s products. The staff was helpful, suggesting what works best for nausea and chronic pain. I bought $120 of gummies and prerolls. So far, the marijuana has helped with my pain and general flu-like feeling from narcotics withdrawal.
It is government that necessitated me to break the law. There’s no reason that government at both state and federal levels couldn’t immediately legally legalize pot. I had to choose between dark suicidal thoughts and using an illegal drug I knew could help reduce my suffering (which was affecting my mental health). I chose the latter. I regret to inform slippery-slope believers: no, I am not already hooked, and no I haven’t already moved on to cocaine (the two things Evangelical preachers often tell youths about marijuana.)
I am an advocate for chronic pain sufferers. I use my stories about experiences with pain and suffering to encourage people who are in pain and to demand government action on better treatment of chronic pain sufferers. I want good laws, effective laws, not laws that foster unnecessary pain and suffering. Of course, Thiessen doesn’t care about any of these things. He is a member of a religious cult that glorifies suffering. Get saved, die, ascend to Heaven, no more pain, stop whining. Of course, none of this is true. As a humanist, I believe this present life is the only one I will ever have. Death is stalking me, and it won’t be long before he catches me. And then, that’s it. I will be turned into ashes and strewn along the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. Why in the world would I not try to find things that will help me physically — even if it meant breaking the law? Less pain means I can be more active and productive.
Or it could be that Derrick Thomas Thiessen lacks the ability to empathize with others; to truly be loving and compassionate. And Thiessen despises me, so in the Good Samaritan story, he’s definitely walking by my bloody body along the roadside, pausing to say “stop whining” as he smugly, self-righteously walks away.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Recent years have brought an endless stream of rules, regulations, and demands from governments, doctors, and pharmacies meant to battle the evils of opiate addiction. What was once between a chronic pain sufferer and his primary care physician is now a multi-person group fuck. I don’t blame doctors or pharmacists. Government has forced upon them numerous rules that make it harder and harder for chronic pain sufferers to receive relief.
I am required to see my primary care doctor every three months to continue to receive narcotic medications. I currently take Vicodin (Hydrocodone), five tablets per day. Three scripts at a time are sent to the pharmacy. I can’t fill the prescriptions early. They must be filled on the day listed on the script. This means you are typically out of medication on the day you fill your prescription. Of course, if you don’t get to the pharmacy at the right time or they are OUT of your medication, you are screwed. Long-term narcotic pain meds users are not addicts. They are, however, physically dependent on narcotics. When pain medications are suddenly stopped, the patient goes through horrific withdrawals.
Last year, the pharmacy I use was out of Vicodin. Well not “out.” They had enough of the drug to give me a partial fill, but according to the pharmacist, CVS was not permitted to give patients partial fills for narcotics.
“Fine. Please transfer my prescription to another pharmacy.”
“I’m sorry, but we are not allowed to do that either.”
“You do know what happens if I suddenly stop taking Vicodin”?
“I understand, but there’s nothing I can do. We won’t have any Vicodin until Wednesday (four days).”
This was on a Saturday. My prescribing doctor was out of town until Monday. I knew calling the on-call doctor was a waste of time. He would think I was a drug-seeking addict.
Fortunately, I only went without Vicodin for thirty-six hours. I borrowed some Percoset from a dear friend of mine to tide myself over. Of course, doing so was a crime. On Monday, my primary care doctor was able to fix the problem for me by sending the script to a different pharmacy.
Keep in mind ALL narcotic prescriptions are tracked with software. All doctors and pharmacists have access to this system. It is IMPOSSIBLE to abuse legally prescribed narcotics. I can’t think of one way a patient can game the system. Scripts are no longer handwritten. They are transmitted digitally, straight to the pharmacy. The prescriptions can’t be filled early. There’s simply no way for me to abuse the narcotics I take five times time a day. Yet, here I sit tonight, unable to fill my August 8th prescription until August 13th.
My doctor prescribes me a thirty-day prescription of one-hundred-fifty tablets every twenty-nine days. This means I have an extra five tablets each month. Five. Not twenty. Not fifty. Five. These five tablets provided me a monthly buffer in case of a pharmacy problem or I have a really, really, really, really, really bad pain day. Five tablets. Unbeknownst to me, the pharmacy was tracking these five extra tablets, and today was the magic day when they decided to bring the hammer down on me.
The pharmacy will not automatically fill a narcotics refill. Even though my doctor digitally sends the script to them, I must call them to have it filled. That’s what I did today, only to find out that they would not fill my prescription until August thirteenth. Five days of no medication. I have nine tablets on hand, so I have to cut my medication by seventy-five percent — two tablets a day. Why? Five tablets. Five tablets each month for six months is thirty tablets, the pharmacist informed me. I tried to explain things to her, but it mattered not. All she saw is what she called a “retention issue.” Those tablets I “retained” were actually used when needed. Long-term chronic pain sufferers learn to manage their narcotic meds, adapting usage to pain levels. None of this matters. Fundamentalism rules supreme when it comes to prescribing pain medications. “These are the rules. Obey. Don’t obey, we will punish you.”
Will the War on Chronic Pain Sufferers Ever End? I ask in the title of this post. Death, that’s what will put an end to this pernicious war against chronic pain sufferers. Patients who have their medications suddenly cut off have a higher risk of suicide. Despair sets in when you think, and often know, no one is listening to you. Allegedly, the goal of the medical profession is to alleviate pain and suffering. My primary care doctor had that as his goal when I first started seeing him twenty-seven years ago. And he still does today. The only difference, of course, is that twenty-seven years ago no one stood between us. Today, the FDA, the state of Ohio, pharmacies, pharmacists, and insurance companies stand between us, materially affecting the prime directive: alleviate pain and suffering.
It remains to be seen how the next five days will go. Polly is fearful that I might kill myself, but I told her as she left for work, “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” She asked me “Why aren’t you more upset over this?” I replied, “I have no control over any of this. None! Yes, I am angry, beyond angry, but all the rage in the world won’t change the fact that my prescription will NOT be filled until August thirteenth.”
My singular goal is to make it to the thirteenth. Will one tablet every twelve hours, lots of Tylenol, and aspirin be enough to stave off the worst of withdrawal? I doubt it, but what else can I do? Maybe drink Jamison for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?
I plan to take a drive to Michigan where marijuana is legalized. According to state law, I can’t legally buy cannabis, but Michigan dispensaries will sell it to Ohio residents. Rumor has it that the Ohio sheriff’s departments that border Michigan — particularly Williams and Fulton — are using off-book undercover officers to write down the license plate numbers of Ohio residents who dare to visit Michigan dispensaries. Yes, indeed. Crimes of the century are taking place just over the state line.
Writing helps distract my mind from my ever-present pain, so if you see a flurry of new posts, you will know why.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
