May 21, 2010
I want to go on the record and say that when you get cancer you should get an automatic pass at getting whatever medication you need at that particular moment to deal with whatever side effect of the disease or the treatment to rid your body of the disease. There should be no batting of eyelashes while medical professionals determine the exact reason why it is that you are convinced that you have broken your foot when you haven't moved out of the hospital bed to do anything strenuous in over 4 1/2 hours.
Stop staring at the computer screen to see if you actually read that right. Yes, I ACTUALLY believed that I had broken my foot when I knew that I had damn well not done any strenuous or physical activity that would have compromised the safety of my foot or of my whole entire self.
It should go like this....in my mind at least....
Me: (hitting nurse call button frantically while trying to ascertain if my foot is still attached to my body or if it has actually fallen off from excruciating pain)
Nurse: Can I help you?
Me: (still feeling around wildly for my left foot and only calming slightly when I realize that it is, in fact still attached to my body) Ummm, I need to know if I'm due for pain meds yet.
Nurse: Ok, be right in.
And then like a magical creature the nurse flies in dispensing medication that will cure the pain of my foot, stop the anxiety and help me to sleep all in one magical injection to my IV.
Instead, I am stuck with this as my reality....
Me: (excruciating pain...hitting of call button)
Nurse: Can I help you...blah, blah, blah....Ok, be right in.
I'm gonna stop this internal dialogue for a moment to comment upon the fact that "ok, be right it" is nurse code for "your so NOT getting pain meds unless you dish up a mighty good reason for them because we are now pretty certain that you are well on your way to becoming addicted and we've red flagged your chart".
Yeah, sure...it could be the paranoia speaking but really...seriously?? It should be like "I've got cancer" and the medical world should be all "let me get you some more morphine to go with that ativan you just took". But back to my foot..
Me: (now sitting up in bed, legs hanging over the side and toes on both feet lightly resting on the floor) OH MY FUCKING GOD...my foot is broken...OH MY GOD. How did I break my foot?? I've done nothing...gone nowhere in 25 days I've been in this room....(light sobs break out as nurse makes her way into the room)
Nurse: On a scale from 0 to 10, what would you rate this pain?
Why? Why? WHY? Seriously, someone explain to me why this is a relevant question?
I'm not in the hospital for a paper cut...I've been diagnosed with cancer and while yes I do see the health care communities stance on not wanting to create a drug addiction problem by just letting us invade the candy store that is their pharmacy it perplexes me that they know this diagnosis is accompanied with a fair amount of pain and yet they are TOTALLY Bogarting the good meds!
Me: Ummm...well, I think my foot is broken and it hurts really bad.
Nurse: So would you say a 10?
Me: (wanting to scream...hey fucktard I'll assign it a number a color and a fucking shape if you will just come off something to make it stop feeling as though all the bones within it have been crushed by what the fuck ever) Yes, I would say it's a 10.
Nurse: Ok, well I'm going to have to call the doctor because she ordered that pain meds be stopped since we are trying to prepare you to go home next week.
And that is my reality. I have been blessed with the one Oncologist that believes that pain medications or any of what she deems "unconventional" treatment measures will be shot down and severely frowned upon when she comes to make her rounds daily.
Yes, like the Marinol that cured my nausea, mellowed me out and got me eating for a good 5 day period and the morphine pain management pump to help combat the pain of mouth sores. Neither of these idea's were her recommendation or put into place by her and she made sure to get rid of both when she found out about them.
I finally realized that the pain in my foot was a side effect of the chemo and not really broken at all when another few hours passed and it miraculously stopped hurting. The passing of this little pain management crisis only made me wonder more how it was that I had the crap luck of getting cancer and the one doctor hell bent on making sure I was lucid for this entire ride.
I would have spent more time pondering that very question if the doctor herself hadn't come waltzing in to advise me that I'd be going home soon. I'm very easily distracted these days, so it's real hard for me to hold a grudge when in truth I can't remember what the fuck happened 10 minutes prior. I think we shall put that one in the win column for the dear doctor of mine because truthfully if I had remembered that this was the same bitch of a woman that just a few hours earlier had made a nurse come explain to me that "I'm sorry, the doctor will not authorize anything except for Tylenol" well, the outcome would have been drastically different.
So note to readers...if you think a cancer diagnosis is a sure fire way to get a little extra juice in your cup, if ya know what I mean, you will be sadly mistaken.
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