My last 5 years


One very painful lesson learned is that I will never again tell anyone
that I take painkillers, not even my mother. I was shocked and heart
broken to learn of the insufferable, sanctimonious, intolerance of
family, friends, church and AA "friends" -- all people who've never
experienced real pain. A curious thing is that I was taking the meds
awhile before I told anyone. It was only after I revealed it that the
exodus occurred, people I'd known for years or decades stopped…
returning my calls. After the dust settled approx. 8 out of 100 people
chose to still be my friends. Also a number of [supply your own
adjectives] people gave me an ultimatum if I wanted to be a part of
their lives. (I think that when anyone can strike that kind of vicious
anger in someone else it's almost always about the other person.)

I've been on permanent disability due to CP (a SCI) since 1999; I was
in a second accident in July 2004. After this the pain became so
severe that I became a shut-in and I was barely able to care for
myself. By Dec. 2004 I had lost 30 lb's and was literally starving.
All of my efforts to get the VA Palo Alto CA to refer me to a
nutritionist were in vain. I was passing out several times a week when
on New Year's Eve I hit the floor again only this time I couldn't get
back up because my legs were paralyzed. The VA admitted me to a
physical therapy center in Livermore CA (Ward 5 a real hell hole, the
staff was so corrupt that [on the 3rd shift] when a Vet soiled himself
he had to spend the night that way. Another thing I discovered while
there was that talking about combat experience scared the hell out of
the staff and would usually land the Vet in the Psychiatric Lock Down
Ward. Once there the first thing they do is take away the Vet's
"smoking privilege." A VA Psychiatrist (someone who had major troubles
with the English language, and ignorance in general) told me, "It's
been twenty years and you should be over it by now so you must have a
mental illness." (I intend no offence to anyone but I do think that
for someone to practice psychiatry or medicine they should be able to
speak the language and know that societies culture. My argument is
with the VA for hiring people who aren't qualified.)

While I was in the hospital my church (Presbyterian Church USA, San
Jose CA) held a Kangaroo Court about me. The minister's decision was
to, via email, release my private medical information and tell the
members not to help me because that was "enabling" me; of course they
were all supposed to "still love me." Out of some 200 members five men
continued to help me, I don't know how I would have survived without
them. I reported this up to the national level of the church and was
stone walled the whole way.

After getting out of the VA hospital my family put me in an Assisted
Living Facility where I lived (if you want to call it that) for three
years. At the time I was 90% wheelchair bound. Since I lived in CA I
had prescription MJ that I smoked out in my car at night in the
facility parking lot. One night, for no reason I know of, the Chino PD
SWAT team (5 of them*) rousted me and roughed me up. Then one of them
tried to murder me with a lethal martial arts move; they succeeded in
giving me a concussion, five days in the hospital, and a ticket for
possession of MJ and resisting an officer. [I know about the martial
arts technique because I'm a (modestly) decorated veteran and member
of the VFW.] When I was in the hospital the staff workers (those who
were people of color) told me these kinds of beatings happened to them
all the time and that they couldn't do anything about it because they
were [mainly Hispanics and poor]. They all said, "Your white you can
do something it. Please help us." I did try and I even had a witness.
I really tried to do something about these Jack-Booters but found
there wasn't a damn thing I could do. In the end I found that no
ethical local attorney would take the case so I hired a Beverly Hills
attorney and the ticket was dismissed, this cost about $10,000.00.

When my daughter asked me to move to NC, she put me in an apartment
but when she found out how much care I needed I was moved into another
Assisted Living Facility. From the first week I was in NC I kept
asking her to help me find a Pain Management Doctor (PMD), which she
didn't do; the upshot from this is that I had to go in for detox and
the hell of months of withdrawal, the pain was so terrible I wanted to
commit suicide but never got past the ideation phase. Additionally her
fiancee (now husband) gave her an ultimatum about me. I didn't even
get a call this Father's Day.

After seven months in NC I found an excellent PMD who prescribed for
me such that I was able to take care of myself again. I now live in a
small country town on a mile long lane with about 10 houses on it. The
trees have grown over the street, which forms a tunnel effect. At
night when the fireflies are thick it's an ethereally beautiful place
to walk Tobey, my German Shepard pup (6 months and 45 lb's). After the
market crash I had enough money left to buy a 1600 SF redbrick house
on an acre lot and my backyard is the forest. Of course I still have
the usual difficulties with pain but, overall, life is good. And no
one in NC knows anything about my med's.

I should say that my daughter was fairly supportive of my
prescriptions until she became engaged (She and her husband both smoke
an illegal substance.). My son, who has his own lower back problems
from recent service in Iraq, is completely supportive of me (he's
getting jerked around by the VA too.) Unfortunately he lives in Utah
so there's not much he can do for me or I can do for him.

On a side note, if you love your parents don't are ever put them in an
Assisted Living Facility. Despite their marketing/sales hype they are
just another type of organized crime that operates with impunity from
the law. This is because about 80% of the adult children who put their
parents there only visit on Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and maybe
the 4th of July. The residents live in fear of being evicted if they
complain and of then not being able to find another place to live.
While many of the caregivers were wonderful people they're nearly all
working two jobs for minimum wage and afraid of losing their jobs if
they whistle-blow. I hope I die before get old -- and have to go
another facility.

GG

* At first I was sitting in my truck while the cops were harassing me.
At length they ordered me to get out of the vehicle or they would
forcibly remove me. I'll note here that I'm 6'2" and 220 Lb's so when
I got out of the truck they literally skedaddled about 5 - 10 feet
away from me.

.

Relevant Pages

  • Re: My last 5 years
    ... let people know you take pain medication on a regular basis. ... Living Facility where I lived for three ... had prescription MJ that I smoked out in my car at night in the ... Unfortunately he lives in Utah ...
    (alt.support.chronic-pain)
  • Re: My last 5 years
    ... Ditto everyone else posting here GG, there's more nightmare stories than ... After this the pain became so ... Living Facility where I lived for three ... Unfortunately he lives in Utah ...
    (alt.support.chronic-pain)
  • Re: My last 5 years
    ... After this the pain became so ... While I was in the hospital my church (Presbyterian Church USA, ... Living Facility where I lived for three ... Unfortunately he lives in Utah ...
    (alt.support.chronic-pain)
  • Re: My last 5 years
    ... friends, I only had one friend and we'd been friends for about 47 years. ... and started taking prescription pain medicines. ... Living Facility where I lived for three ... Unfortunately he lives in Utah ...
    (alt.support.chronic-pain)
  • A message to Cindy Sheehan
    ... I realize how tragic your loss is and I know how much pain there is crushing your heart and I know the darkness that suddenly came to wrap your life and wipe away your dreams and I do feel the heat of your tears that won't dry until you find the answers to your question; why you lost your loved one? ... Even while I'm writing these words to you there are feelings of fear, stress, and sadness that interrupt our lives all the time but in spite of all that I'm sticking hard to hope which if I didn't have I would have died years ago. ... We practiced our freedom first by kicking and burning the statues and portraits of the hateful idol who stole 35 years from the life of a nation. ... God bless his free soul and God bless the souls of his comrades who are fighting evil. ...
    (soc.retirement)