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Tag: Vicodin

Will the War on Chronic Pain Sufferers Ever End?

Bruce Gerencser 20 Comments
pain to stop

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 sixteen 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.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

The War on Chronic Pain Sufferers

Bruce Gerencser 30 Comments
vicodin

There’s a war going on in America. Law-abiding chronic pain sufferers are caught in the middle of a battle between federal and state laws governing narcotic prescriptions, pharmacy regulations, and medical clinic practices. The war on opiate addiction has caused untold pain and harm for people who dutifully take their medications, refilling them as prescribed by their doctor.

My primary care doctor writes me three prescriptions for Hydrocodone every time I see him. These scripts are dated, meaning they CANNOT be filled before the date on the script. I am required to see my doctor every three months to get these scripts. Thus, my $25 a month prescription actually costs me $85 — almost $1,000 a year.

My doctor electronically sends these scripts to CVS. They remain on file until I call them and ask for a refill. The pharmacy refuses to refill narcotic prescriptions automatically. Every other drug I take is on automatic refill. What makes matters worse, I must call the pharmacy on the day my doctor wrote on the script. Not the day before, but the day of. This means I must remain at home on the day my prescription is refilled.

Today, Polly called CVS, requesting my September 13, 2021, refill. The pharmacy tech said it would be ready in an hour. We arrived at CVS at our appointed time only to find out that the pharmacy did not fill my prescription. Why? They didn’t have enough Hydrocodone to fill the script. Their order will be in on the 15th!

CVS had some Hydrocodone on hand but couldn’t partially refill my prescription because it is against the law for them to do so. I said, “Fine. Send it over to Walmart.” The twenty-something-year-old pharmacist replied, “we are not permitted to transfer Schedule II prescriptions.” I tried to explain to her what this would to do me (I have NO Hydrocodone at home and have been on pain management drugs since 2005), but it became quickly clear to me that no amount of pleading on my end was going to change the “rules of engagement.” This means I will be without pain medication for 48-72 hours.

A year ago, I was taking three drugs for pain. Thanks to policies instituted by my doctor’s practice (a large physician’s group), I had to stop taking two of those drugs. I am now held hostage to an opiate load number (morphine equivalent dose); not whether my pain is adequately treated. Ninety is the magic number. I am currently at sixty. So, like a feral cat, I take what I can get from my doctor, telling myself, “it could be worse.”

After leaving CVS, I called my doctor’s office, thinking he would send a two or three day prescription to Walmart. Unfortunately, thanks to the medical clinic’s “new and improved” phone system, I could not talk directly to my doctor or his nurse. The woman who answered the phone assured me that she would make sure they got my message. I impressed upon her the importance of getting my prescription problem fixed. I am sure I sounded like a drug-seeking addict. Almost seven hours later, no return call, and now the pharmacies are closed. And so, I am left without pain medication, knowing what is coming next. Just ask any chronic pain sufferer what happens when their medications are suddenly stopped.

Sudden cessation of narcotics brings all sorts of physical problems. Everyone in this story knows this, yet I am the one that bears the consequences. Not them; I do. I snarkily told the pharmacist that I might spend the day drinking booze. “Oh, don’t do that,” she replied. I wanted to ask her, “what should I do, then?” I said nothing, knowing that she likely had no real-world experience with serious pain. There’s only one answer to my question: suffer. Or die.

Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen 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.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Nerve Pain: Please, Don’t Touch Me

Bruce Gerencser 16 Comments
dont touch me

Many Fibromyalgia sufferers have days where they can’t bear to have someone touch them. The other day, Polly came into my office and started to put her hand on my shoulder. I barked, DON’T! Polly knows when I say this that I am having a “please don’t touch me” day.

Most days, the nerves in my skin are quite sensitive. This sensitivity is part of the problem I have with chronic pain. I hurt everywhere, from head to toe. It has been over a decade since I have had a day where I could say, I feel pretty good today. Fibromyalgia primarily affects the muscles. I also have osteoarthritis, along with chronic low back pain. Fibromyalgia+osteoarthritis+back pain+nerve pain=unrelenting chronic pain. Fibromyalgia+osteoarthritis+back pain+nerve pain+narcotic pain medication+muscle relaxers=less unrelenting chronic pain.

garfield pain

As anyone who lives with chronic pain can tell you, pain medications do not make the pain go away. They lessen the pain spikes and provide a break in the pain cycle. When normally healthy people take narcotics to alleviate pain, they often feel a buzz from the drug. Some people become quite loopy. That’s not how it is for people who are on a long-term pain management regimen (as I have been for over fifteen years). Unless the chronic pain sufferer takes narcotics like Dr. House — by the handfuls — it is unlikely that they will feel a buzz or become loopy. They will feel a lessening of the pain, a break in the pain cycle, but otherwise, they will be as normal as normal is for them.

On “please, don’t touch me” days, the pain medications don’t work like they normally do. I am unsure as to the physical reason for this, but I know that I can double my pain medication on a “don’t touch me” day and it has little effect. I just have to tough it out, knowing that the next day will be maybe, I hope so, likely better.

This past Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, I worked in the office, took care of some remodeling projects, cleaned house, and trimmed trees and bushes. I worked far longer and harder than I should have, but since I am unwilling or unable to stop doing so, I must live with the consequences. And, boy, oh boy, do the consequences roll in like a freight train! Today, and probably several more days thereafter, I will have to contened with pervasive, unrelenting nerve pain. I am definitely in a “don’t touch me” phase of life.

Why I am telling you this? Perhaps you know someone who lives with chronic pain. If so, perhaps this post will give you a little insight into what they might be going through. Perhaps you have seen them grimace when someone touches or bumps into them. They might be having a “please, don’t touch me” day. If they are anything like me, they will endure the pain for the sake of not appearing crabby or difficult. Chronic pain sufferers want to be seen as “normal”, and often they will silently endure the pain unintentionally inflicted on them by others.

People who know me well will generally ask how I am doing before hugging me or shaking my hand. (COVID-19 has lessened such close encounters.) Some friends and family members know how to read my face. As much as I try to hide the pain, it reveals itself in my face and eyes. I normally have sparkling blue eyes, but when I am in a lot of pain, depressed, or physically having a difficult day, my eyes will turn gray. I don’t know WHY my eye color changes, I just know it does.

Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen 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.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.