3 posts tagged “health care reform”

Maybe, you've already viewed and heard this video, the Battle Hymn of the Billionaires For Wealth Care.  If not, I think it's a worthy download.  I have neither seen, nor heard corporate media reports covering the visit that Billionaires For Wealth Care paid to a tea baggers if you can't afford to buy health care, you deserve to suffer and die...rally.

I just saw a video at BOL's blog about a hospital that billed a murder victim $20,186.50 dollars for only five minutes of care before he died.  Added was a nasty letter from the billing department concerning the guy's "indigent status".

Sorry About Your Dead Son; That Will Be $29,186.50...

I cannot blog as frequently as I did in recent years before Modblog went down.  Any time that I attempt to post anything it takes me a while just to get it done.  That "while" might be days, or weeks. Maybe longer.  I am forced to slow down and stop typing because of the pain and the trouble that I have with typing accurately anymore.  Old posts on previous blogs bore numerous typographic errors as a result of my determination to push when I should have stopped.  The pain was such that it brought out the worst in me, so my messages were often delivered with an angry tone and escalating profanity while I carped on issues.

One issue that I have wanted to address here and elsewhere is of personal concern to me.  I've neither been in the right physical state, or frame of mind to post anything during all these months that it was openly argued while much bogus propaganda circulated to discourage certain changes that I've been hoping would come to pass and provide for me the help that I desperately need.

Sen. Reid's recent announcement about the Health Care Reform bill made my heart sink.  After all these years of suffering I had a glimmer of hope.  Now it's lost. In some states no public option is foreseeable.

I suffered multiple work-related injuries, but they were progressive.  They started as little discomforts that I assumed would go away in time.  Like the pain in my upper arm and shoulder, which I disregarded as muscular.  I thought that it was from a minor strain during a night when my work load was speed-intensive.  (I did production work at a newspaper and was doing the job of three people that night, which was not unusual on certain nights.)

That pain, the pain in my neck, and the tingling that coincided with a little discomfort continued.  First, these symptoms came and went.  Over-the-counter pain relievers, like Aleve and ibuprofen, were working for a few years.  Then I was using heat.  Two hot baths (one before work, the other afterward), topical heat rub creams and gels, and eventually the addition of a heating pad set on high became part of my routine.  After a while, none of these tactics worked to completely relieve my discomfort and return me to my typically strong and limber self.

I reached a dead-end on February 15, 2005.  My right hand badly ached with some parts numb and tingling sensations running through my fingers and thumb.  I had spasms in three of my fingers with the middle and ring finger locking up.  I could barely move that arm because the grinding in my shoulder made it sore and swollen and my neck was feeling stiff.  My neck cracked a lot when I moved my head and it has gotten worse.

My life fell apart.  I tried doing phone work, but I became increasingly stiff and miserable each day and night.  Hours passed before I could fall to sleep.  I frequently awakened with searing pain.

I still have problems sleeping.  I still cannot do very much.  I am not a good job candidate. I won't lie to any prospective employer about whether, or not I can be reliable.  I cannot guarantee that I can work on every scheduled day, arrive on time and stay as long as required.  I can't honestly promise to do a good job, although I have always taken pride in the quality of my work.

The worse the pain is, the less I have any business being around other people.  To avoid being impatient and downright bitchy with others, especially with people that do nothing to deserve somebody snapping at them, I prefer to keep to myself when I am in a great deal of pain.

I do not take narcotic medication to treat my pain.  I can't.  It's too risky.

I have become increasingly reluctant to take any prescribed chemicals for this pain.  Every time I have agreed to take a non-narcotic, non-addictive (presumably) medication to, at least, treat the swelling, I've suffered adverse side-effects, usually the kind that I later learn are so severe, they come with a warning to stop taking that drug immediately and promptly seek medical attention. (I have not rushed to see a doctor. They symptoms stop after I stop taking the drug.)

My doctor and a registered nurse at the community clinic that I've been going to for the past year, or so convinced me to try another drug treatment.  They had to work on me and did so when i was having a very bad pain day that made me tired and (I hate to admit) weak willed.  They convinced me to take Cymbalta.

Cymbalta is a psychotropic drug.  It as marketed to treat so-called "clinical" depression.  It is designed to work on the pleasure centers of the brain. It has become one of the psychotropic drugs now used to also treat neck and back pain.

My doctor led me to believe that this drug works on the nervous system.  He told me that it was my best bet, at least, to treat the neck pain (He did not mention the pain and other problems in my hands) because the only alternative was surgery, which, as he stated, "Costs lots and lots of money, which you do not have."

My pain and physical limitations not only robbed me of my independence, but also did a number on my self-esteem.  I had enough trouble with coping with the mental and emotional impact as it was. I just wanted to get my life back (I still do), so I took a gamble despite my attitude toward mood and behavior altering drugs.

The first 30 day prescription was at 60mg per pill.  I was instructed to take on pill each day.  I waited until after Christmas to start taking it, because I did not know what it would do to me and I wanted to wait until most of the visiting relatives went back home.  I did not want to be wet blanket on the family's holiday.

I thought that I had contracted a flu, or bacterial virus after I took the first pill.  My symptoms were similar to those suffered by a niece that got sick a couple of days before. I decided to wait a while before trying this medication again to see whether, or not those symptoms were actually caused by the Cymbalta.  A week, or two passed and I took another pill.  Again, the same niece got sick and another relative did, too.  Similar symptoms, which I also suffered.  (The only difference each time is that I did not vomit.  They did.)  So, I waited another week and tried again. Once again, my head felt weird, I got dizzy, my stomach felt as if I was on the verge of barfing, and my intestinal tract likely got cleared within three hours. The strange and very painful sensations that seemed to move throughout my body, even in my head, returned. This time the niece and her mother (my sister) were back in their home in a different state and no one around me was sick.

I did not notice my odd behavior at first.  I did some things that were strange, especially for me.  I was mildly aware of this but, oddly enough, I did not care.

I stopped taking those pills. When I went to get a prescription filled for another medication, the in-house pharmacist at the community clinic had both drugs ready.  I told her, "I don't want to take the Cymbalta." Then I explained why.  She decided that the dose was too strong. She disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with another bottle of Cymbalta with half the dose. She assured me that I probably would not suffer those symptoms. The pharmacist left me with a warning to not suddenly stop taking the Cymbalta, especially after I've been routinely swallowing those pills.

I did not suffer the nausea sensations and the effects on my bowels were minor and quickly subsided. I wasn't dizzy, either.  However, that other physical feeling became more apparent since the other symptoms were not present to dominate my attention.  I realized, the painful sensations throughout my body and head (including my face) felt like I was being shocked. It was so bad, I had nightmares with electrocution and torture themes.

If these are the effects this drug has on depression sufferers, I wonder how they manage without going off the deep end, or worse.

In time, the shocking sensations subsided.  However, I wasn't out of the woods, yet.

I was becoming increasingly apathetic, void of emotion. That's quite contrary to my passionate nature. I lost interest in everything.  I was just "there."  Then, while I caught the occasional arguments over Health Care Reform people that blurted out their views that we with no means for quality health care deserve to suffer and ought to get of the way by dying influenced my thoughts.

To me, those thoughts were logical.  They seemed to make sense at the time.  I can't work.  I can't afford the treatment that might restore my ability to work while ending the majority (preferably all) of the pain and most of the physical limitations.  It seemed only right that I ought to die.

I seriously considered not taking the other medication that is intended to keep me alive.  It's Lipator, prescribed to treat a genetic inability to prevent a buildup of bad cholesterol in my bloodstream with proper diet and exercise. (This condition runs through three known lines of my family, two on my mother's side, one on my father's side.  Even my dad has this condition and he's a health food nut, physically active and he has not smoked since 1970.)   I take Lipator in conjunction with Omega 3. 

The pharmacist at the community clinic quit with no one to replace her for over a month.  Libby had called to say that my new prescription would arrive in 4 - 7 days, but that did not happen because the clinic had ended its contract with PATH and opted for something believed to be more reliable and less restrictive. (PATH would have ended its sponsorship of me entirely if someone there had known that I quit taking the first Cymbalta prescription. This means, it would have stopped sponsoring me for the Lipator.)   The clinic had  only the Lipator prescriptions (two bottles), but not the Cymbalta.

So, I suddenly stopped taking the Cymbalta. That caused a crash which worsened over a 2, or 3 month period before I started coming to my senses.  I became more emotional than normal.  I quickly became depressed and remained that way.  The depression worsened to the point where, upon my return from Florida, I isolated myself most of the time and any interaction I had with others, especially siblings, seemed to compound the negative thoughts and feelings.  I felt as if my family was angry with me and turning against me.  It seemed to me that it was all my fault, because I felt unworthy, undeserving of life.

I call myself a recovering addict.  I was addicted to drugs when I was in my early and mid teens.  All in all, I went through hell getting off the speed I took to energize myself while feeling the sensations that are magnified by excessive doses, and the pain pills, tranquilizers and other narcotics that I took to induce sleep and for other "reasons."  I decided to save myself after a series of scary and some appalling experiences involving other addicts.  I did not want to end up like some of these people.

I started getting involved with Narcotics Anonymous and learning the path of recovery.  I still refer to myself as a "recovering addict" because true recovery is not as quick and easy as many of the people that got all 12 chips within a year, or two, or three might believe.  There is so much soul-searching, so many issues to overcome with unexpected challenges that suddenly occur to test an addiction-prone person's ability to avoid returning, or entering the destructive cycle of addictive behavior.

I have an obligation to myself, my loved ones, and probably society to inform medical professionals of my history with substance abuse.  In living up to this responsibility I have noticed that these professionals have a lot to learn about what types of medicine they need to avoid prescribing to somebody like me.

This country is full of children, teens and adults that are at risk of becoming addicted to a substance.  They do not need to have a history of substance abuse, at least, with drugs, alcohol, caffeine, and all that addictive junk that's added to most tobacco products to end up hooked on prescribed, or over-the-counter medication (like cough syrup with certain ingredients).  I meet more and more addicts that were prescribed a drug to alter their behavior, and/or mood before they experimented with drugs.   I meet more and more addicts that did not think that they were at risk of becoming addicted to a drug, because they did not use drugs experimentally and for recreation, but got hooked on prescribed drugs that they were taking as directed.

For well over 15 years I have met possibly more than 100 people that needed certain types of medical treatment, but could not afford it.   Among them are pain sufferers.  Predictably, they self-treat, or rely on doctors that use drug treatment as an alternative to methods that might end the suffering, or radically reduce it.  Many of the ones that I have met have resorted to using powerful pain killers which are highly addictive, potentially harmful and possibly lethal.

I do not expect to see any changes in states that will most likely opt out of the public option that was said to promote quality health care.   I do not believe that people like me will be effectively helped so that we can return to being productive members of this society.

The assumption that we always have resources to fall back on for help is faulty.  This government's bureaucrats at Medicaid and Social Security offices don't mind cashing in their pay check at the public's expense while turning down people that earned less.  The Social Security office in Texas informed me that I did not pay enough into Social Security despite the years and hours that I invested at work for wages that were systematically garnished by the government to pay these bureaucratic assholes to turn me down when I'm in need. I got my rejection letter soon after the Cymbalta ran out. Actually, I was expecting the rejection, because everybody that I know with disabilities that filed a claim to receive this help during the past 9, or 10 years told me to expect to be turned down, at least, once and to be ready to get a lawyer to fight for it.

Many of the ones that told me not to expect immediate financial help that is expected to include access to resources for health care, in part, to treat problems that caused the disability,  ended up homeless. Some of them worked, but their hours were short and their attendance infrequent, at law demand jobs that did not pay enough to cover the cost of food and shelter, thus certainly not enough to also cover the expense of electric power, water and sewage, or gas.

I normally avoid wishing ill on other people.  When I catch myself thinking like that I redirect my thoughts and attitude.  However, I make exceptions now and then when I believe that certain misfortunes are necessary to better enlighten the kind of people that fight like hell to prevent changes which can ease suffering and reduce burdens and risks that adversely effect a multitude.

That said, there are people in this country that obviously have no idea what it is like to be in my position, or in the position of a parent with a suffering child in need of the kind of health care that is exclusively provided for people with the money to buy it.  Perhaps, if the people that do not care about the poor, and those with unrealistic and negative opinions of all low income and impoverished people lost their own ability to afford decent health care and wound up desperately needing it they might change their views.  If that's what it takes for them to soften their hearts and broaden their knowledge and perspective, then may their world be turned upside-down.  May they suffer and struggle against odds and lose battle, after battle until the rise above their present opinions with determination to contribute to the fight for our basic human right to quality health care.

I have an upcoming appointment.  This time, a different doctor is treating me.  The other one left the community clinic just in time to avoid a confrontation with me.  Again, the matter concerns the pain I am in.  I'm at the "all or nothing" phase.  If that doctor cannot think of a pain medication that is non-narcotic, non-psychotropic, and contains absolutely no ingredient with even the slightest risk of physical harm, addictive tendencies, or other dangerous, or uncomfortable adverse side-effects, then I will not settle.

What I have on hand is not much better.  I stopped taking Aleve.  I need to stop taking ibuprofen.  The lining of my stomach and throat has been damaged by both.  I nearly choked on stomach acid a few times.  I often wake up with a burning sensation that warns me to sit up, or stand to avoid choking.  I'm taking a generic version of Zantac for this problem.

I will mention again that I'd rather have the actual problems fixed than for them to be ignored while the symptoms are treated, instead.