Here’s a link to Pat Anson’s recent article regarding the sentencing of former CEO & President of The U.S. Pain Foundation, Paul Gileno!
What do you think? Has justice been served?
Here’s a link to Pat Anson’s recent article regarding the sentencing of former CEO & President of The U.S. Pain Foundation, Paul Gileno!
What do you think? Has justice been served?
I want to inform the pain community about my situation because this is happening to many chronic pain patients. I’ve been a voice in the pain community and now I too, am going “down the rabbit hole”! Before I become possibly incapacitated; I want you to know what is happening. For those like Kolodny, who believe that we should “get beyond the pill bottle”; I say, unless or until you are in my shoes and live with my experiences, stop preaching silly things like “pain acceptance”, will help. It cannot help all of my pain conditions combined. Stop acting like you are better, mightier or stronger because you might feel better from “grounding” (which is in essence, touching the earth with your feet, being “one with the ground/nature”, to make your pain lessen or disappear). The bottom of my feet are covered with open sores due to the stage of CRPS that I live with. This has become insane, while there are individual cases in where opioids are the preferred treatment and they do continue to reduce our pain.
*A bit of history if you want it: I won’t start at the very beginning because that would be much too long. I will tell you that I’ve been on SSDI since 1999 and initially for PTSD (*they said that I was the “worst case of childhood trauma/abuse they’d seen in 36 years) and kidney failure. Then I was hit by a car that ran through a red light. One minute my husband & I were sipping lemonade at an art fair. The next minute, (as we travelled through a green light to have dinner afterwards) he was really bruised & shaken and I was unconscious & strapped to a back board, on route to the hospital. That experience is a story for another day. The entire auto insurance bullying and fear mongering was another traumatic debacle. These experiences have continued, one after another; which brings me to today and this article.
After our accident in 2002 and upon being discharged from the hospital; I was sent to doctor after doctor. I was also sent to TBI rehabilitation, PT/OT and also to Tri-County pain clinic in MI. I was totally new at all of this & it was my first experience with this type of physical pain. Although, I have had 2 C-sections and I’ve lived through childhood, ex-spousal & other abuse throughout my entire life. At the pain clinic, I received various epidural nerve blocks, trigger point, cortisone and other injections. I also saw a Pain Psychologist, did Biofeedback and did many other types of therapies. The Pain Psychologist wrote in his report, by the way, that I “do not fit the profile for an addictive personality.” He attached me to an EMG type of machine where he can “see” your pain spiking via a red line going upward. Mine went off the charts. This was prior to my diagnosis’ of: systemic CRPS, EDS-4/vascular (aka Polyneuropathy in Collagen Vascular Disease), R.A., Dysatuonomia/POTs, Gastroparesis, S.I.B.O., Chiari and more. At that time though, I was diagnosed after the auto accident with: many physical injuries and a TBI. I went through 8 surgeries, 2 screws in my left shoulder, metal in my jaw, 2 AFO’s, prisms in my glasses, 2 hearing aids, a dual chamber pacemaker and a hospital bed in my home. I have a walker, loft-strand crutches, wheelchair, motorized scooter, leg braces and also knee, neck, hand and shoulder type of braces.
After going through all of the “hoops” at the pain clinic, I was found not to be a candidate for an SCS (spinal cord stimulator) nor a pain pump (intrathecal). I was diagnosed with CVID or “Combined Immune Deficiency” disease. They informed me that I would be sent back to my primary dr. because they could not give me the medication that I needed. In 2005, they were already saying that they could not prescribe pain medications (which they felt I needed) because they had to “stay under the radar of the DEA”. I went back to my PCP and for the next 10 years he prescribed pain medications. Until one day in December of 2014, I arrived at my PCP’s office and was told that it was his last day working there. I received no other information and I was terrified because I did not know where to go or what to do. Dr. Bullach MD; promised me that he would personally make a call to my former pain clinic and Dr. Dobritt, my former pain physician. He also promised me that my treatment would remain the same under his partner. I returned the next month to see his partner and was condescended to, teased, put down, and told that “all of the other dr’s patients were “drug addicts”, “drug seekers” and unworthy people seeking pain medications. He promised to see me for a couple of months because he had known me “to be a good person” since my children were small. But over the next 6 months I had to put up with derogatory remarks.
Dr Bullach never did call Dr Dobritt, nor did he send any of my updated records. I found that out when I went to see him myself again. I had been a model patient; and the way I was treated when I went back to see him was horrible. He would not take me back as his patient! He told me that’ “he couldn’t see me because I was part of “Dr Bullach’s mess”! I had no idea what he was talking about!
I sought out a pain physician and found one near my home. He told me that if I could take myself off of the medication that had been prescribed to me since 2005, that he would “accept me as his patient”. I was very ill for about 11 days and for up to 6 months, I was not feeling well aside from the pain issues. But I got through it and would not ever want my worst enemy to go through that experience. I did it with my loving husband by my side because I was not addicted to it. My mind did not care at all, but my body was dependent. When that ordeal was over, I saw my current pain dr; the one I still see today. Things had been going well and I have had some semblance of a life. He had told me that I was a “complicated patient” and that I did not have to worry about my medication being stopped.
For several days prior to these appointments, I became very apprehensive, nervous and had many of the PTSD symptoms recurring monthly. Then his attitude towards me changed from a mutual respect to him being the “Wizard with a magic wand” and Me being a peasant “needing his magic”. Thats the only metaphor I can come up with. It was bazaar. I had a routine urine drug screen test in April 2018 and he knew before I left his office that something was not “right” with it, but he failed to inform me prior to leaving. At my next appointment he informed me that I had had a positive urine test and so he sent it into a lab for more testing. It came back as a “false positive” because of the migraine medication that HE KNEW WAS PRESCRIBED to me for many years. I take very little, but he knew it was in my records; he knows that I take it. In the end, we got stuck with a $265.00 bill for testing that I did not agree to pay for. We got stuck with this large bill for something that I did not do and would never have done. It was his mistake, not mine that he forgot the medications that I am taking and that it can show up as something else, as he explained later.
He has had an “edge” to his treatment of me since that date. I am literally ill prior to each monthly appointment. Nothing changes in 30 days anyways? Why in the world do we need to go so often? This is ridiculous. Just as a person with diplopia or myopia needs glasses; just as a diabetic needs insulin and a depressed person needs anti-depressants; I am a chronic intractable pain patient and I need pain medications. I’ve never done anything wrong as far as I always pick up my meds on time, I’m never late for my appointments and I’ve never been a “no-show”. But I showed up on July 9th, 2018; and was suddenly without explanation, cut down to 75% of my LA/ER pain medication. He was going to stop it abruptly that day, but I did not get hysterical. I reasoned with him, adult to adult. I reminded him of my prior heart attack, the CVA (stroke) and my complicated medical history with multiple co-morbidities. He agreed reluctantly to taper me a bit. He informed me that he was doing this to get me “psychologically ready” and that next month I would get zero. I’m not “Psychologically addicted” so that made no sense at all, but I went with it for my own comfort and safety. He went on to tell me that suddenly the patch is now “only for cancer patients”, which he does not treat. He also told me that I was “not heavy enough” for the patch and “I was probably only really getting 30% of the medication”. I did not say a word as I was prescribed down from 100 mcg per hour, every 48 hours (due to hyper metabolizing), to 75 mcg every 72 hours. So not only 25% less medication, but now being stretched out a full 24 hours longer each patch. The first few days were difficult as I had a few withdrawal symptoms. But the rest of the month, I’ve had increased pain, exacerbation of my CRPS, and fatigue. Also, every 3rd day I was in bed, very ill. We all know that for especially those of us who hyper-metabolize (due to the types of pain illnesses that we have), the patch never works on the 3rd day!
I have a loving, supportive husband and my support “team” online which consists of a few people who have been there for me throughout this ordeal. I had websites, stories and ideas sent, all in an effort to help me reason with my pain dr. On 8-10-18, I showed up well prepared. I had with me, the 2013 FDA’s response to Andrew Kolodny, when he wanted Fentanyl labelling changed for non-cancer pain. They told him this, in their 2013 letter (Docket No. FDA-2012-P-0818): “It is FDA’s view that a patient without cancer, like a patient with cancer, may suffer from chronic pain, and PROP has not provided scientific support for why labeling should recommend different treatment for such patients. In addition, FDA knows of no physiological or pharmacological basis upon which to differentiate the treatment of chronic pain in a cancer setting or patient from the treatment of chronic pain in the absence of cancer, and comments to the Petition docket reflect similar concerns. FDA therefore declines to make a distinction between cancer and non-cancer chronic pain in opioid labeling”. My dr responded that “this was not about Fentanyl” and that I am educated and should be able to find out about this?
Next, I brought to his attention, a letter that I received a copy of, from a good friend of mine on LinkedIn. He had written to the CDC and asked about the horrific state of affairs within the chronic pain community. We covered his name and I showed this to my dr as well. This letter, which is directly from the CDC and dated 4-8-18, states these things:
In the end, none of the information that I presented, made any difference to my pain dr.. He just kept repeating “the guidelines, the guidelines, the guidelines”. He told me that in all reality, I was not worth saving, because if I look at his waiting room, he has all of those other people to serve, who also live with pain. If he helps me, he risks losing his practice and then he would not be able to help all of them. He informed me that “everyone is looking at him the same way” and they are also “pleading with him” for their medications. I told him that he’s told me that I am “different” and that I am a “very complicated case with multiple co-morbidities”. I told him that I researched Michigan Law and that there are no changes in the care or plans for chronic pain, only acute pain. None of this mattered because he just looked at me, after I showed him the letter from my G.I. dr.. A letter written by him on my behalf, states that “Suzanne has been stable while she received the fentanyl patch”. It goes on to say that I have “RSD and severe Gastroparesis and this could “exacerbate the illness of a patient who was difficult to stabilize” due to Q-T prolongation, her allergies and intolerance for oral medications”. He said that “he strongly recommends that my pain management not be altered unless there is a strong medical reason.”
My pain dr looked at me and said “This is bullshit! His license is not any better than mine! If he wants you to have the fentanyl patch then let him prescribe it for you. You’re also welcome to find another dr and get a 2nd opinion. I won’t be upset if you do that, although Im not kicking you out or anything.” He repeated that “the CDC guidelines are specific for fentanyl” and there was no way in hell I was ever getting that from him ever again, an neither is anyone else; no matter what! He pretty much told me if there was an exception, I would be it, but there are no exceptions. He repeated to me that I am educated, and have access to the internet. If I do my research, I will know that what he’s saying is true. I have done a ton of research and I know that what he’s saying is not true. He is violating his Hippocratic oath “to do no harm”. Many other physicians are also doing this instead of defending the fragile people who need them during this opioid hysteria
This is not just a story about me, but a story that many pain warriors live through on a daily basis. I know because I talk to many of them often. Much of this is “our story”. …..I awaken each day; the first thing that I do is cry inside of my head. My body lay still too long. Four hours is too long! I feel pain and don’t want to get up, or move because I know it will hurt. I’m so tired of the pain. I lay there and contemplate rising to my feet. I hear my husband call my name. He always says “Hello my Love, Good Morning! Time to rise and shine!” He tells our Kitty, Luna, to come and get me. She always listens to him and she enters our bedroom and meows for me to get on my feet. Still lying there, I think about the day ahead and wonder if it will be a busy day? Will it be one in which I have to do a few things? Or will it be a day that I can be a bit quiet?
After 40 minutes has passed from the time I took my medication, I attempt to get up. First I sit up and I feel the pain in my back. The Degenerative disc disease, Scoliosis, Spondylitis and multiple herniated and bulging discs, make it almost an impossible feat. The medication does help. It takes the pain down from a 9 to about a 5; and I finally get up. But then there’s the stairs to tackle. I hold onto the rail and then I lean on the wall. I fumble my way down the stairs, as my cat scampers past me, ready for her cuddles on my way to the kitchen. First, I sit on the ottoman and pet her for a few moments and then it’s time for breakfast. My husband has already made the tea and has my toast ready to go.
He goes to work and I go to my chair, my recliner. In my spot, there is a pillow and a blanket and a settle in for a look on the computer. What fantastic things have happened overnight on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram? I answer a few questions, maybe I help a few people in my support groups? People always volunteer to help me with my groups because they are becoming large for one person to handle on a daily basis. People mean well, but they are also in pain and have much going on in their lives. Eventually they stop helping and I’m alone again. I don’t want to give up, because some people just need someone to listen, anyone. I like being that person. I want to help and do something of value with my life.
Maybe after awhile at the computer, I will either write a blog post, an article for the National Pain Report; or maybe I’ll sign a song that day. I love the beauty of ASL and the way the emotions come out of my body, hands and face. I can feel something other than pain. Until I’m finished; and then the pain is worse. I have to rest and take more medications. My husband comes home for lunch because he says that he likes to check in on me. We’ve been married for 20 years and he always comes home for lunch. I am one lucky lady to have such a knight in shining armor at my side. He never complains about doing so much. He cleans, cooks and does the laundry; after mowing the lawn and fixing whatever needs repaired in the house. Still, he never complains.
In the afternoon, I may visit my granddaughters and my daughter who live only a few blocks away. I’m still able to drive for “personal errands” and for about 10 minutes at a time. If I visit them, I get lots of hugs and kisses and more love and life than you can even imagine. They are rays of sunshine in a world of pain. They don’t understand that I am in pain and that’s a good thing for now. I like to light up their faces and give them love and receive that same love in return. My daughter and I may do a couple of errands or have a coffee and chat. It seems like a nice day, right? It’s true, it’s the nicest day you could imagine. Then I come home and I sink into my recliner and sometimes my cat will come and sit with me. Her love is unconditional and she seems to know when I’m in more pain than usual. She gives me comfort and love, unconditional love. By that time it is 3:30 in the afternoon. It’s been a full day and my pain has risen from the activities. I can’t do anything else. I don’t have the energy to make dinner anymore. The fatigue is deep and lasts for long periods of time. I rest and sometimes I nod off in my chair. The cat jumps off of the chair and the back door opens. My hero is home! The love of my life and my forever soul-mate comes home from another day at his job as a teacher. We muster up something to eat for dinner. Mostly, for him; because eating has become something difficult now. It’s not fun or anything I look forward to anymore. I have IBS, S.I.B.O., and Gastroparesis. There’s so much I’m incapable of eating now. If I just throw caution to the wind, and eat to be social or “fun”; I suffer more. There’s the nausea, constant nausea and burning whether it is high or low in my stomach; it’s awful either way. Then if I eat just a tiny bit too much, I will be sick for hours afterwards. This is something that others don’t see or understand. My husband sees and watches it from the other side. Then there are the others who I “talk to” on the other side of this computer. Many of them truly do understand.
Then, my friends; it is evening time. The sun goes down and we watch some Television together and maybe read or “play” on the internet for awhile. All too soon, it is 10:30 pm and my husband goes up to bed. He. has to work in the morning. He kisses me goodnight and tells me not to stay up too long. I tell him that I will come to bed as soon as I feel like I’m able to sleep. Time goes by and it’s one in the morning, then 2:00 AM and 3:00 AM. I start to nod off as I’m messaging the other “night owls” who are my fellow pain warriors. They are with me at night, because they too cannot sleep either. We try to give each other support and the strength to persevere. Finally, the sparks of chatter start to diminish online. I too, feel like I truly want sleep to come and save me from my body and the pain that is within. Much of the pain is physical, but there is no lack of mental anguish.
***I come from a family that doesn’t know or care that I exist. They are called “M.N.’s” or Malignant Narcissist’s. I try to stay away, keep my distance. For some reason, I cannot “let go” totally. Maybe I feel that I owe them something for bringing me into this world. But truly it’s been nothing but pain and abuse as far back as I can remember. Then the failed marriages because I didn’t know how to feel love until I met my soul-mate, Craig. We’ve been married 20+ years now. I thank God for him every day because nobody has ever truly loved me until I met him. Some people ask me why I always go back for more abuse and more pain? I guess he’s still my father and one of my two brothers is still my brother. The other one, I cannot even discuss and won’t. My oldest brother used to try and protect me, but one day he stopped. It was the day that I told our family “secrets”. That is when my father took his revenge and turned everyone he could, against me. I’m not sure why they listen to him? I’ve always been kind hearted, loving and as good a person as I can be. But now the entire family, including dozens of cousins, have shoved me “under the rug”. I am an an outcast. None of them will talk to me or even look at me if we meet.
I don’t get invited to the very very large family reunions. Even though I was the only one in my nuclear family that ever attended those functions. I always took my children to them while they were growing up. I wanted them to have a sense of “family” and belonging. I helped my one cousin, the only one who is the same age as me. She is 6 months older and I always got her “hand-me-downs”. I went for food when she had her big garage sales. I helped her when the family turned against her as her mother was dying. I told her not to let them “punish” her and told her to hold her head up high. They were so mean to her because she couldn’t let her mother come and stay with her when she was very sick and dying. I felt her pain as she told me the stories of her abusive childhood; we could relate to one another.
But **one day, in 2002, I was in a terrible car accident which started all of the physical pain. No one came for me except my husband. Again, my knight in shining armor there with me and at my side through thick and thin, good and bad. ***My cousin said she couldn’t come to our house and sit with me for awhile so my husband could do errands. I couldn’t be left alone as I could not even go to the bathroom or dress/undress myself or. cut my own food. She said that “seeing me in so much pain, made her depressed. If she was depressed, then her family would suffer.” Therefore, she could not see me anymore. I’ve not seen her again except at a couple of funerals, but she won’t even look at me. ****I went to my favorite Aunt’s funeral yesterday. It was in a church and my dad didn’t come because he would have had to have been “nice to me”; and then they might know that we’ve tried to “talk a little bit now and then” again. Only one cousin spoke to me and only one other even looked my way and smiled. My Aunts children were welcoming. They knew that their mom and I had a relationship. My cousin, her daughter, told me “mom wouldn’t have had it any other way”; when I thanked her for “letting me come to the funeral”.
**I watched my family all sitting in the same church, singing “Let there Be Peace on Earth”. While the words came out of their mouths, there was no peace in that room. Only a gathering of many who really don’t know each other anymore, but had one thing in common. That one thing was the love for a woman who knew how to live and how to love. So you see, there is physical pain and there are other kinds of pain. Some of these exacerbate the others. We just have to surround ourselves with those who want us in their lives. Those who want to give and receive; or share love with us.
When my head finally hits the pillow at night, I lie down and listen to my husband’s breathing. So glad to hear those sounds of life and know that this person beside me has truly shown me what real love is all about. I never knew if I would have that, some people never get to know it. People who are “damaged” like me, have a hard time very often knowing the difference between real love and hurtful kinds of “twisted” love. I’m fortunate to know this man and lucky to have his love and to have him to love. I try to let the sleep come to me. Relax, sigh and listen to the breath sounds and the sound of the cat purring next to me. This is my real “medicine” in life. They, along with my children and grandchildren are what makes me happy. I try to remember these thoughts as I fitfully sleep for a few hours, only to wake up to the “fear” of getting up on my feet once more again tomorrow.
Joanne Maliszewski, jhometownlife.com 5:31 p.m. EDT September 9, 2016
Suzanne Stewart of Canton lives in pain – all of the time. And she knows plenty of others who share a similar lifestyle.
“It’s up there with cancer, childbirth and amputation of a finger without anesthesia,” said Stewart who suffers from a nerve or Neuro-autoimmune disease (RSD/CRPS). She also lives with: Chiari, R.A., O.A., Degenerative Disc Disease, Dysautonomia/POTS, Polyneuropathy in Collagen a Vascular Disease (= to EDS type 4,Vascular) and other issues.
As an ambassador for the U.S. Pain Foundation, Stewart – who attended an educational retreat in August – has a host of events and displays this month in Canton to spread awareness of living in chronic pain. The U.S. Pain Foundation serves as advocates for pain management through a variety of methods, including medicines.
Stewart’s life of pain began following an auto accident in 2002, which led to eight surgeries. She has since had a pacemaker installed, has had a stroke and heart attack all by her current 54 years of age. “One in three Americans lives in chronic pain,” Stewart said.
Suzanne Stewart and her husband, Craig, showing the
Suzanne Stewart and her husband, Craig, showing the display for awareness of chronic pain. (Photo: Submitted)
As a result of the auto accident, Stewart suffered nerve damage – a cause of much of her continuing pain. At times she is in a wheelchair, other times she uses a walker or a cane. She suffers continual swelling on her left side and has lesions from one of the autoimmune diseases.
As society fights against some types of prescriptions, Stewart wants the public to know that those medicines are necessary for her and others with chronic pain, to live their lives. She also wants the public to know that while no one can see her chronic pain, it’s there and it is very real. Offering an example, Stewart said she has a handicapped permit for her car. But she has had people gawk at her and question her because she does not look ill or handicapped.
“They don’t see it, but I can feel it,” Stewart said.
That has led to her making fliers and signs that say, “People with pain matter,” because she urges others to avoid judging those who live as she has to. “Don’t judge what you cannot see,” she added.
As part of increasing awareness and understanding, the U.S. Pain Foundation has kicked off a project asking those with chronic pain to send in their stories. “It’s really more of creating an understanding,” Stewart said.
Locally and for starters, Stewart has a display in the Canton Public Library through Sept. 16. It’s a display of facts and information about chronic pain and awareness, as well as information about he U.S. Pain Foundation and additional data about RSD/CRPS, the autoimmune diseases from which she suffers.
On Tuesday, Sept. 13, she will attend the Canton Township Board of Trustees’ meeting to accept a proclamation designating September as “Pain Awareness Month.”
Other activities will include:
Wal-Mart in Canton, store No. 3476 on Ford Road: 1-3 p.m., spreading awareness of chronic pain with items from the U.S. Pain Foundation.
Monday, Sept. 12 from 10 a.m.-noon, Stewart will have a booth for “Senior Day” at the Canton Summit ..She will hand out items to increase awareness, as well as offering 400 bags of information and items for Seniors.
Stewart also plans to fundraise for the pain foundation and plans Someday, to head to Washington D.C. to meet with officials of individual states to raise awareness and to make changes for people living in pain, she said.
original article is here: http://www.hometownlife.com/story/news/2016/09/09/canton-woman-pain-warrior/90134682/
A not-so-crazy couple with 15 cats