Two weeks ago my GP presented me with the option of chronic pain medication. It was the only next step he had left. At the time I opted for Fentanyl patches, figuring they'd be simpler to handle, since each one lasts for three days, trickling a slow dose of narcotics into my system and hopefully killing pain quietly.
The process requires titration--my GP gave me a prescription for 25mcg/hour, but on speaking to my migraine specialist I doubled the dose on the second day. In his estimation the amount of IV dilaudid I was taking indicated a resistance to narcotics sufficient to make the first step of 25 too small.
Adjusting to it was not fun, but it was doable. I avoided driving for the first few days, and all was pretty much well.
Two days ago my GP changed my chronic meds to MS Contin. Yes, girls and boys--la migraineuse is on morphine. I don't remember the dosage off the top of my head, but the calculations were made so that I wasn't starting over from scratch--the MS Contin was going to pick up in strength right where Fentanyl was leaving off.
But I'm having a whole 'nother adjustment period! I didn't want that.
I've explained it to my boss, and so I'm off to work from home for the rest of the day.'
The work will get done. Perhaps not traditionally, but it will be done.
23 January, 2008
02 January, 2008
Talky Meat
After getting pissed at Jennie whatserface I did go into the ER.
There's really no point pretending that there's no social component to the visits, at least at these two hospitals. The doctor saw me ahead of the next person in line because he recognised me, and he apologised for not having my dosages memorised, and let me dictate them instead. When I said I was still in pain I got more without any discussion too.
I didn't get a chance to talk to the nurse that says she'll call me next time she's going to go shooting, but I did get a wave and a frown from another nurse we'd chatted with at length during the last visit here. The registration guy waxed very eloquent about advanced directives and their scope. He seemed glad for the opportunity to chat.
A day later the pain is minor, so it was all worth it. It's still too frequent, but at least it worked.
It's my sister's last day in town, and among her errands is dropping by the other ER to leave a gift and card for the nurse that finally treated my symptoms as worthy of the proposed dosage, as well as got a line in quickly.
Two weeks here and five ER visits, if I count correctly. Quite the crash course.
There's really no point pretending that there's no social component to the visits, at least at these two hospitals. The doctor saw me ahead of the next person in line because he recognised me, and he apologised for not having my dosages memorised, and let me dictate them instead. When I said I was still in pain I got more without any discussion too.
I didn't get a chance to talk to the nurse that says she'll call me next time she's going to go shooting, but I did get a wave and a frown from another nurse we'd chatted with at length during the last visit here. The registration guy waxed very eloquent about advanced directives and their scope. He seemed glad for the opportunity to chat.
A day later the pain is minor, so it was all worth it. It's still too frequent, but at least it worked.
It's my sister's last day in town, and among her errands is dropping by the other ER to leave a gift and card for the nurse that finally treated my symptoms as worthy of the proposed dosage, as well as got a line in quickly.
Two weeks here and five ER visits, if I count correctly. Quite the crash course.
01 January, 2008
Oh, how very pleasant for you
Google alerts yanked this Huffington Post blog post for me last night. It's about coming to terms with migraines.
I'm not going to argue with her on the extent to which her changes helped her, and I do think I could stand to implement a couple things she suggests. I'm happy for what she says:
after fourteen years of desperately trying every remedy under the sun - every drug, every herb, every abstinence, every kind of healer from traditions all over the world, I finally found something, last year, that helped ease the pain: words.
In fact, Jennie Nash quotes Joan Didion who says:
I have learned now to live with it, learned when to expect it, how to outwit it, even how to regard it, when it does come, as more friend than lodger. We have reached a certain understanding, my migraine and I... And now that I am wise in its ways, I no longer fight it. I lie down and let it happen...[and] when the pain recedes...I count my blessings.
I'm happy for them both.
I have learnt to accept that the pain will come, but I feel like I'm betraying the side by doing so. Still, I can't stop it. I don't fight the migraines anymore, but I can't see welcoming them as friend. Neighbour perhaps, but why friend? What do I get out of it that makes it a friendship?
Jennie talks about detailed migraine logging. I don't. It depresses me. I could. I could note that I woke up into a 6 (which is great considering yesterday's pain), ate a few bites of leftover marinara, a slice of harddough bread with apricot preserves and a mouthful of orange juice. After a shower, the migraine was up to a 9.
How much do I write? That it's on the right side? That the nausea is low? If I get more nauseous in an hour do I write that too? How could I look at that tome of pain and still feel vaguely friendly?
But mostly it's her #6 that gets me...
6. Know that the pain will recede. Because it always does.
Thanks, Jennie. Except the doctor told me to stop waiting for it to recede. Day 7 of a severe migraine isn't doing anyone any favours. Which is why after I finish typing this up I'll get dressed and head out to the ER. I do hope the pain will recede. I will count my blessing when it does. But don't ask me to be friendly towards the pain that's driving me back to the hospital. That's not sensible.
I'm not going to argue with her on the extent to which her changes helped her, and I do think I could stand to implement a couple things she suggests. I'm happy for what she says:
after fourteen years of desperately trying every remedy under the sun - every drug, every herb, every abstinence, every kind of healer from traditions all over the world, I finally found something, last year, that helped ease the pain: words.
In fact, Jennie Nash quotes Joan Didion who says:
I have learned now to live with it, learned when to expect it, how to outwit it, even how to regard it, when it does come, as more friend than lodger. We have reached a certain understanding, my migraine and I... And now that I am wise in its ways, I no longer fight it. I lie down and let it happen...[and] when the pain recedes...I count my blessings.
I'm happy for them both.
I have learnt to accept that the pain will come, but I feel like I'm betraying the side by doing so. Still, I can't stop it. I don't fight the migraines anymore, but I can't see welcoming them as friend. Neighbour perhaps, but why friend? What do I get out of it that makes it a friendship?
Jennie talks about detailed migraine logging. I don't. It depresses me. I could. I could note that I woke up into a 6 (which is great considering yesterday's pain), ate a few bites of leftover marinara, a slice of harddough bread with apricot preserves and a mouthful of orange juice. After a shower, the migraine was up to a 9.
How much do I write? That it's on the right side? That the nausea is low? If I get more nauseous in an hour do I write that too? How could I look at that tome of pain and still feel vaguely friendly?
But mostly it's her #6 that gets me...
6. Know that the pain will recede. Because it always does.
Thanks, Jennie. Except the doctor told me to stop waiting for it to recede. Day 7 of a severe migraine isn't doing anyone any favours. Which is why after I finish typing this up I'll get dressed and head out to the ER. I do hope the pain will recede. I will count my blessing when it does. But don't ask me to be friendly towards the pain that's driving me back to the hospital. That's not sensible.
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