Ok. For 5 weekends, in a row, I’ve been trying to work with Dr Shark and his “paliative care team” in Medicine Hat, where I live, to make satisfactory adjustments to my pain meds. Or, I should say, nothing gets done during the week so every weekend I’m trying to survive a pain crisis. And I’m here to tell you those sure aren’t pretty, involving lots of crying (even screaming) and begging.
I’ve begun to hate weekends and actually my “paliative care team” as well. According to what I’ve been told they are the pain management experts and are the ones in charge of keeping you comfortable in your last days. That seems to solely involve sedating a person so heavily that all they do is sleep those final precious weeks maybe even months.
Throw into that mix the restless brain of a person with ADD and it all turns into shear torture. My starved -for-input-brain just can’t handle being that sedated.
I’ve come to the conclusion that I just need to give up the idea that my “paliative care team” is going to help me at all. There is always more than one solution to a problem, if I can just be awake enough to find it.
If it’s to be, it’s up to me. And when Karma raises her head I’m going to feel awfully sorry for those those involved in the Cancer Industry. So far I haven’t seen anything about it that seems sensible or compassionate. Maybe with the exception of some nurses who I don’t think have really thought about what is going on and their part in it, who are just kind by nature.