spiral1013
Greenlighter
Addicted... Or Dependent?
I suffer from chronic back pain due to a slew of lumbar issues, including degenerative disc disease and degenerative arthritis. I am only 23. I've been on so many pain medications in the past few years while battling these issues, that I feel I could run a pharmacy. It started simply with percocet, and advanced to percocet and morphine, then to percocet, morphine, and fentanyl in the form of a lower dose transdermal patch. Eventually I had worked up to 150 mcgs of fentanyl in patch form which I was changing out every 72 hours. None of these dose increases or medication changes had anything, repeat anything, to do with tolerance, though I'm sure it didn't help. I was simply in that much pain. Having a two year old running around surely was of no help to the situation. I'm sure there are those of you who have tried to change a diaper while your back feels like it's going to splinter like so much rotted wood. Fun experience, and it seems on the worst days, they blow through enough diapers to float a zoo. Then of course there's the physical activity that absolutely has to happen. I got to a point at my most painful where I had to call on family and professional help just to take care of my own child. I cn't put into words how difficult that was, how guilt-ridden I felt, and how miserably depressed I had gotten because of the entire experience. I had basically become a bed-ridden cripple due to the fact that if I moved, I would scream in pain.
Now, the reason I dropped a little back story is simply to give a glimpse at my personal situation before being judged, which - no matter what anyone says - always happens. It's a normal human reaction. Anyways, about 18 months ago, I had a night where I ran out of medication and my neurosurgeon AND pain management specialist were both unavailable that evening, even though they are both usually on call a couple times a week. I suffered what I thought must be the onset of my death and thus my plunge into hell. I went through the worst withdrawal ever. Oh, and I forgot to mention at the time, I had been placed on opana. As anyone who has taken it can tell you, it's the damn devil. I was withdrawing from percocet and opana, the meds I had run out of and couldn't get filled for three days when one of my doctors would become available. I thought I was going to die. I hallucinated. I vomited. I camped out on the bathroom floor just so I could make it to the toilet. I tried to sleep, and even with valium and ambien in my system (I was desperate), I was a total insomniac. I tried to sip a bit of clear broth, and couldn't stand the taste of it. That or any other food after I stopped throwing up. It's like I could taste the chemicals in it or something. My body sweat so much I lost ten pounds between that and expelling fluid in multiple ways overnight. The sweat was a disgusting smell, and I was just ill. I couldn't move my body for the aches, the pain, the brutal lead weights that felt tied to every part of my body. I swear to God, I didn't sleep but three hours in three days. I became hyper-vigilant, nervous, restless, and numb. I say again, I thought it was the end, that these damn drugs and the end result of me not having them in my system was going to be the death of me.
Obviously I made it through. I got my meds from both doctors (don't ask me why at that time the two of them hadn't just consolidated their efforts and handed the ball off to one or the other). I took my doses and felt like I had drifted into heavenly bliss. About five minutes into enjoying the high, I had a startling revelation...... I was hooked on them. On all of them. I burst into tears. Never in my entire life had I been addicted to anything. I never believed it could happen to me. I was instantly humbled and broken right there, before God and everyone in the middle of my living room. That was my first experience with withdrawal and my realization that pain meds had become my vice.
Now that I'm a little older, a little wiser, and have been walking this path of chronic pain for a while, I have a much better view of both my body and the world around me. I am now on only 6 percocet a day, and nothing else. I have lost 30 pounds (and counting), I'm exercising, and guess what? I can change my son's diaper...on the floor...without being in massive pain. I have worked so hard to get to this place, all because of that one instance where I knew I had lost control.
However, I want to ask this question: If an individual suffers from so much chronic pain that they have to invade their bodies with those kinds of pain meds, do they really become addicted? Or is it dependence? I took a good hard, long look at myself in the mirror as I was popping my afternoon dose of pills one day, and made another realization. I was not taking these for the high. I wasn't searching for euphoria. I was simply looking for enough relief to make it possible to get up off the couch and play with my precious son. In that moment, I labeled myself - correctly so in my opinion - dependent. I threw off the old label of "addict" and started some healthy self-talk. So many people who take drugs for recreation purposes (no judgment, just opinion) don't know what it's like to be in true, chronic pain. They enjoy their high, and more power to them if that is their personal life choice. But for those of us who suffer daily, we suffer much more than our own physical pain. We suffer the misunderstanding of others. Doctors most especially. I know I've had doctors I've trusted implicitly tell me point blank they thought I was faking all of it (despite the confirming MRI's and CT's). I've had ER nurses tell me I'm an addict and should "take a closer look at my life". I've had family tell me pain meds are bad, and that they are simply poison in my body. To a degree I believe that, but to not have the support of people you love and trust is devastating when going through pain of any sort. I've had friends give me dirty looks when I took a dose of my scheduled pain meds at a luncheon. It's horrible, and all to be called "addicted". So I wonder... Is it all in our heads, all of us who take pain meds and other sorts of drugs? Even those out there who use illegal drugs. Have you become addicted? Or dependent? Dependency comes from the absolute need for a legitimate reason. You NEED the drugs to keep you functioning properly. Addiction is you WANT the drug so badly to make your body feel good. There's a huge difference in my opinion, and I finally couldn't take it anymore. I had to speak out strongly, and voice my thoughts and feelings, even if no one reads any of this. I hope in some small way I've opened the doors to some different paths of thinking, and encouraged at least one person out there in their journey through pain and drug dependency. Thank you all for the chance to speak my mind, and for not judging. We are all normal human beings here, all looking for support in one form or another, even if it's just someone to listen. Take heart...you are never alone.
I suffer from chronic back pain due to a slew of lumbar issues, including degenerative disc disease and degenerative arthritis. I am only 23. I've been on so many pain medications in the past few years while battling these issues, that I feel I could run a pharmacy. It started simply with percocet, and advanced to percocet and morphine, then to percocet, morphine, and fentanyl in the form of a lower dose transdermal patch. Eventually I had worked up to 150 mcgs of fentanyl in patch form which I was changing out every 72 hours. None of these dose increases or medication changes had anything, repeat anything, to do with tolerance, though I'm sure it didn't help. I was simply in that much pain. Having a two year old running around surely was of no help to the situation. I'm sure there are those of you who have tried to change a diaper while your back feels like it's going to splinter like so much rotted wood. Fun experience, and it seems on the worst days, they blow through enough diapers to float a zoo. Then of course there's the physical activity that absolutely has to happen. I got to a point at my most painful where I had to call on family and professional help just to take care of my own child. I cn't put into words how difficult that was, how guilt-ridden I felt, and how miserably depressed I had gotten because of the entire experience. I had basically become a bed-ridden cripple due to the fact that if I moved, I would scream in pain.
Now, the reason I dropped a little back story is simply to give a glimpse at my personal situation before being judged, which - no matter what anyone says - always happens. It's a normal human reaction. Anyways, about 18 months ago, I had a night where I ran out of medication and my neurosurgeon AND pain management specialist were both unavailable that evening, even though they are both usually on call a couple times a week. I suffered what I thought must be the onset of my death and thus my plunge into hell. I went through the worst withdrawal ever. Oh, and I forgot to mention at the time, I had been placed on opana. As anyone who has taken it can tell you, it's the damn devil. I was withdrawing from percocet and opana, the meds I had run out of and couldn't get filled for three days when one of my doctors would become available. I thought I was going to die. I hallucinated. I vomited. I camped out on the bathroom floor just so I could make it to the toilet. I tried to sleep, and even with valium and ambien in my system (I was desperate), I was a total insomniac. I tried to sip a bit of clear broth, and couldn't stand the taste of it. That or any other food after I stopped throwing up. It's like I could taste the chemicals in it or something. My body sweat so much I lost ten pounds between that and expelling fluid in multiple ways overnight. The sweat was a disgusting smell, and I was just ill. I couldn't move my body for the aches, the pain, the brutal lead weights that felt tied to every part of my body. I swear to God, I didn't sleep but three hours in three days. I became hyper-vigilant, nervous, restless, and numb. I say again, I thought it was the end, that these damn drugs and the end result of me not having them in my system was going to be the death of me.
Obviously I made it through. I got my meds from both doctors (don't ask me why at that time the two of them hadn't just consolidated their efforts and handed the ball off to one or the other). I took my doses and felt like I had drifted into heavenly bliss. About five minutes into enjoying the high, I had a startling revelation...... I was hooked on them. On all of them. I burst into tears. Never in my entire life had I been addicted to anything. I never believed it could happen to me. I was instantly humbled and broken right there, before God and everyone in the middle of my living room. That was my first experience with withdrawal and my realization that pain meds had become my vice.
Now that I'm a little older, a little wiser, and have been walking this path of chronic pain for a while, I have a much better view of both my body and the world around me. I am now on only 6 percocet a day, and nothing else. I have lost 30 pounds (and counting), I'm exercising, and guess what? I can change my son's diaper...on the floor...without being in massive pain. I have worked so hard to get to this place, all because of that one instance where I knew I had lost control.
However, I want to ask this question: If an individual suffers from so much chronic pain that they have to invade their bodies with those kinds of pain meds, do they really become addicted? Or is it dependence? I took a good hard, long look at myself in the mirror as I was popping my afternoon dose of pills one day, and made another realization. I was not taking these for the high. I wasn't searching for euphoria. I was simply looking for enough relief to make it possible to get up off the couch and play with my precious son. In that moment, I labeled myself - correctly so in my opinion - dependent. I threw off the old label of "addict" and started some healthy self-talk. So many people who take drugs for recreation purposes (no judgment, just opinion) don't know what it's like to be in true, chronic pain. They enjoy their high, and more power to them if that is their personal life choice. But for those of us who suffer daily, we suffer much more than our own physical pain. We suffer the misunderstanding of others. Doctors most especially. I know I've had doctors I've trusted implicitly tell me point blank they thought I was faking all of it (despite the confirming MRI's and CT's). I've had ER nurses tell me I'm an addict and should "take a closer look at my life". I've had family tell me pain meds are bad, and that they are simply poison in my body. To a degree I believe that, but to not have the support of people you love and trust is devastating when going through pain of any sort. I've had friends give me dirty looks when I took a dose of my scheduled pain meds at a luncheon. It's horrible, and all to be called "addicted". So I wonder... Is it all in our heads, all of us who take pain meds and other sorts of drugs? Even those out there who use illegal drugs. Have you become addicted? Or dependent? Dependency comes from the absolute need for a legitimate reason. You NEED the drugs to keep you functioning properly. Addiction is you WANT the drug so badly to make your body feel good. There's a huge difference in my opinion, and I finally couldn't take it anymore. I had to speak out strongly, and voice my thoughts and feelings, even if no one reads any of this. I hope in some small way I've opened the doors to some different paths of thinking, and encouraged at least one person out there in their journey through pain and drug dependency. Thank you all for the chance to speak my mind, and for not judging. We are all normal human beings here, all looking for support in one form or another, even if it's just someone to listen. Take heart...you are never alone.
