Please stop
@Psynaught I hate when people compliment me in public settings
I'm glad it made sense. It's an emotional issue for me like I'm sure it is for all of us here. I get worked up emotionally every time I rehash it in my brain. My opinions deviate somewhat from the mainstream though. I believe the prescribing doctors hold an incredible amount of responsibility here. I don't believe that every doctor who wrote prescriptions in bad faith knew that they were going to cause an absolute catastrophe. I believe a lot of them thought they would make a small moral compromise as we all do sometimes.
The problem is that physicians are held to a higher standard. They train for years. They take an oath to do the right thing for their patients. They are not allowed to make moral compromises. Police officers are not allowed to make moral compromises. These people wield power, be it the power of life and death or the full authority of the law. When these people compromise their morals terrible things happen.
The part that fills me utterly with rage is how the doctors denied culpability, in the process demonizing their patients to save their own skin. See, once a patient uses Heroin or Fentanyl, the doctor can officially say, "that's different, they are drug addicts now, that's none of my business". The same doctors that destroyed families, condemned millions to lives of misery and degradation are still driving their BMW's to work and acting as if their saints. To just completely destroy someone by your own twisted decisions only to blame them for it? I don't know what it takes to get into Hell, but they must at least be candidates.
Fun fact: My Grandmother was a teetotaler her whole life. Her Father had been a horribly abusive Alcoholic. She got older, needed a hip replacement, started developing dementia etc. Then the medications started. Lorazepam (Ativan) 2-3 times a day, Zolpidem (Ambien) at night and Hydrocodone (Vicodin) for the pain. My grandmother didn't have a clue that this was basically a street junkie's wet dream. She grew up in an era where doctors healed people.
She was on this stuff for a few years. Two months in a row my Grandmother had run out of medication 3-4 days early. She just wasn't getting relief anymore due to tolerance and she was suffering. This doctor told my Grandmother she was an addict, said she was "med-seeking" (that fucking cunt, one day I will punch her in the ovaries) and informed her that their was a Methadone clinic 60 minutes away. My Grandmother didn't know what Opioids were. She did not know what the term Benzodiazepine meant. She referred to her collective medication as "her pills".
The doctor withdrew her from everything including the Lorazepam over the course of about 7 days. By day 4, my Grandmother was so dehydrated she was hallucinating. I woke up to find her on the bathroom floor having shit herself as she struggled to sit up to vomit into the toilet. My Grandmother, who had been a great lady with friends and respect, was now a poly-substance addict laying on her bathroom floor covered in her own piss and shit, crying and begging me to make it stop.
We took her to the hospital. They ended up stabilizing her to the point where she was coherent. I explained the situation to the staff at the hospital. They gave me some pamphlets regarding 12-step meetings, drug rehabs and so on. They informed me that my Grandmother was in fact, a hopeless drug addict who was using both myself and the system to fulfill her twisted compulsions.
They released her after 3 days with no medication whatsoever. She ended up having a seizure a couple of days later and bit the tip of her tongue off. I watched my Grandmother shaking uncontrollably as blood spurted out of her mouth. The sounds she made of desperation, agony and fear will be with me my entire life. There was nothing I could do for her. I couldn't even get her drugs, as she lived in a small farming town of ~5,000 and there was no "place" to buy drugs.
Another trip to the hospital. A slightly more sympathetic provider gave her a 3 day taper of Lorazepam. which was pointless in the big picture. This went on for about 10 days before she started normalizing, able to control her bowels and communicate clearly. However, she shook so badly that we had to help her eat and drink for about a month.
The "resolution" of the issue came in a few months. This was my Grandmother living in a constant panic attack, alternating between extreme depression, anxiety and fear. She constantly believed she was having a heart attack. She was extremely confused. She had a slight hint of dementia previously, though it was incredibly minor.
They destroyed her and then left the blame at her feet. My Grandmother, who loved all of us, worked her whole life, taught Sunday school and was involved in the community, ended up too afraid to leave her house.
She never, under any circumstances would have taken any of that medication ever if she had a clear understanding of what it was. It was all just medicine to her. The doctor might as well just shot her in the neck like a diseased horse. At least we have the humanity to put these horses out of their misery.
This whole thing is a parable of the consequences of greed. Shame on all of these people.
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