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Do YOU think that this, this patient MOCKING NH License Plate, that says “I Sedate Them Too” (ISED8M2) belongs to a “PainCare” nurse? I am asking.
I am NOT a patient of “PainCare” so I would not know. The primary PAIN in my life is emotional due to nurses prescribing opioids and Methadone willy nilly like it was candy. And this was to somebody who was on Xanax! Yes, we ended up in ER.
Yesterday I explained why I think that nurses should NOT be allowed to prescribe opioids (just like doctors).
I present this picture as ‘exhibit 1’.
This is a nurse that prescribes (a lot of) opioids.
Should somebody as shallow and crass as this be allowed –legally — to prescribe dangerous drugs. Yes, I know of one person that he sent to the ER!
Yes, in general I have a very high regard for nurses and I have known quite a few. SMILE. Yes, every profession has a spectrum of ability, commitment, competence, professionalism etc.
All that said I still will contend that nurses should NOT be allowed to prescribe opioids. And yes I wrote about this license plate before!
And in this case, this number plate alone should be grounds for having their license revoked.
What do YOU think?
Finally, in 2016, at long last, after 30 years of ‘refusing to acknowledge the problem’ there is now realization, led by the likes of the CDC and CNN (sees above), that U.S. doctors have to bear much of the responsibility of today’s prescription opioid crisis.
Though I have never taken opioids (though they have been prescribed to me a couple of times) I have, for the last 4 years (or so), been the SECOND HAND victim of indiscriminate, irresponsible and even cavalier prescription of opioids by doctors and more recently NURSES.
I already reported one to the NH Board of Medicine (and have a list of others that will also be so honored):
I, coming from a family with many bona fide doctors, do NOT, not for a minute, by the argument that there is no difference between doctors and nurses. Of course there is. IF NOT why do we have different names for them. Let’s call them all ‘nurses’.
Doctors, of course, have, at a minimum, more education and training.
That nurses can prescribe opioids just irks me, especially when it is one whose appearance and demeanor inspires ZERO confidence in their discipline and outlook to life. Sorry, I think that an obese, unshaved nurse who insists on wearing pre-cum stained pants does NOT show adequate judgment to be entrusted with writing prescriptions that KILL and make others life a living hell.
We have to stop nurses from being allowed to prescribe extremely dangerous and addictive drugs — especially when they are in business to do NOTHING else but sell prescriptions.
Just locally here there is a nurse who I am pretty sure writes MORE prescriptions for opioids than any 4 doctors taken at random from a 15-mile radius of him! That is not right.
Let’s please all unite to stop this man-made epidemic. It has made MY life a hell.
I was ‘gone’, a prisoner in a living hell, for 34 days. Yes, I was in the midst of an acute personal crisis. Even I, for all of my swagger and mental discipline, can only take so much sustained and systematic abuse.
Yes, I, for at least the last 3.5 years, have been the victim of daily and concerted emotional and verbal abuse.
And finally on Saturday, April 9, 2016, I snapped. Does NOT matter as to how or why. The number ’10’ plays an insurmountable role. That is about all I want to disclose for now. I just could not endure it anymore.
NO I DID NOT LEAVE. Yes, I know. Very, very unlike I. Yes my reputation when younger was to cut-and-leave at the slightest provocation. But I am older and possibly a tad wiser now.
If I was willing to leave I would not, of course, have had to endure this abuse. My steadfast and proven commitment to stick it out, this time around, was a kind of invitation for a blackmail scenario. My options were gone. It was ONE or ANOTHER and I was — and still am — NOT willing to consider the ‘another’. I am well aware that this is nothing new on a global scale. Tens of millions of men before me have gone through this. It is just new to me and very strange. Of course I have the means and wherewithal to leave whenever I want and I think about it daily. But I will not leave. I will stick it out — health permitting. Yes, of course, it has taken a toll on my physical health but not my mental (as yet). Every morning I wake up and look ahead, years ahead, to when I might have my freedom again. But that is a long way away. But there is also a plan to resolve, heal and mend.
You heard of victims of secondhand smoke. I am the victim of secondhand prescription opioid use. A few months prior to my April 9th collapse there was a change in medication. A 24×7 opioid patch. Ruined my life and I am the one who famously took aspirins for 3 weeks when I had a broken rib top my heart before I was finally taken to ER.
I am also the victim of the pitiful state of healthcare providers around here. I have already reported two to the various NH licensing boards and plan to report two more. Total irresponsibility when it comes to prescribing horrible drugs. They don’t care. All they want is to be PAID to write the damn prescriptions. They do not have to endure the abuse. One obese, nurse, in Wolfeboro, who AMAZINGLY is allowed to write opioid prescriptions (at will, albeit for a price), once told me flat out: “I don’t have to live with it. YOU DO!” That is the problem. No, I am not in need of mental care — at least not as yet. My mind is clear and strong. And I yearn for the future. I live for the future. There is so much I still want to achieve.
The irony of ironies. I was 90% done on a book on THE BRAIN when the fateful April 9th came along. This is a book that will help people to come to terms with their brain. It built upon my befriending the brain ideas.
I gave away my two cameras, the Panasonic Lumix FZ1000 and the Panasonic Lumix LX100, on April 9th. The beneficiary was local 17-year old boy who I only knew from his performances on the High School Stage. He lucked out. A totally impulsive (but not uncharacteristic) gesture by I. I gave him my packed camera back along with the monopod. I am sure he has no idea how much all of it was worth. That is OK. I asked him if he had a camera. He didn’t. I asked him whether he would like one. When he said yes I gave him two. No regrets. Giving is healing to me. Yes, in the last 34 days I gave a LOT of things away. Probably in excess of $10,000. I did NOT care. It was cathartic. I have always liked to give. Over the years I have acquired ‘special’ things because of my contacts. Genuine Catholic relics. Special coins. I gave them all away. I gave away money that was owed to me. Money does NOT make you happy — though it does help ease the pain of abuse. Today I bought a new camera. That made me happy. The cost did NOT matter. I have the money. Wall Street is very good to me. SMILE. Nobody can take that away from me.
I also stopped writing. That killed me. Not having a camera and not writing was torture. It was agony. I felt as if both my arms had been cut off. So impotent and not surprisingly for I was sexually impotent for a week! That is about the longest time I have gone without sex in the last 20 years! It was not a good 34 days.
But we have a kind of truce. A kind of lull. The 24×7 patch has been discarded. It is back to pills again. I am hopeful. I am going to start writing — and this is the first. We watched CNN’s Anderson Cooper special on “America’s Opioid Epidemic“. It is wonderful. We now have a plan to totally get away from opioids. Not sure it will work. Will not be the first time. But I hope. That is all I have.
So why am I sharing this with you. Because deep down I am a writer. That is what we do. We share our experiences in the hope that it may help others.
I am NOT ashamed to admit that I am a victim. Yes, people tell me I have BIG ego. And I accept it. But it is people who have NO ideas as to WHO I am that think I have a big ego. Ego is not important to I. Some of you may know that I go out of my way to accept blame, apologize, admit my limitations. But that is not important.
I plan, as part of my own recovery, to document MY journey.
As of today, Friday, May 13, 2016, I am GOING to try to get back to some semblance of normalcy.
I am going to start writing. I am going to get a camera (I already have).
Please wish me well.
I am back. Battered, scarred, bruised and bleeding. But I am back.
.by Anura Guruge
No, I have not been to South Africa. But, I am no stranger to S.A. Obviously it is part of MY Commonwealth and they are Test playing nation — that is also pretty damn good at rugby. In the 1980s I was ‘associated’ (that is probably the best word) with a South African living in London, an ex-IBMer like me. I have also known a few others from there, one of them being my primary contact for a company in MN that I did a load of writing. Moreover, four (4) of my all time heroes are South African. Nelson, of course. I watched his release (and I still remember all 2 hours of it). I cried when he walked out. I cried when he was elected President. I will cry when he dies, as he must — though I am not known for crying when people die (firmly believing that death is an integral part of life). I am also particularly fond of Desmond Tutu. I have this picture of Desmond on my PC — and trust me, you have to be special to have your picture saved on this PC. And then there is Barry Richards and Mike Proctor.
Two days after the famous ‘White Bronco’ chase I told my ex-brother-in-law, a lawyer, that OJ will walk. And walk he did. My brother-in-law was pretty impressed.
South Africa, alas, does not have a sterling record when it comes to violence against women. But, before we start crowing, neither does New Hampshire. I have been meaning to tackle this at some point. I am aware of three women that have died in NH, in the Lakes Region, in the last 6 years — and nobody has gone on trial as yet. Who am I talking about: the nurse murdered in Wolfeboro, the ex-wife of the car dealer shot in Gilford and I am referring to this accident in 2009 when the Former Miss NH was killed in a car crash. We actually knew the driver involved. He was an (ex-)pilot. As soon as I heard of the accident and the conditions in which it happened — I was mortified. There were things I worried about. So, we have to search our souls about what is happening in NH before we criticize S.A. too much.
BUT, you might find it interesting to read about S. Africa’s current President, Jacob Zuma, a confirmed polygamist and a serial-parallel adulterer. [And at this stage Deanna will start laughing.]
Anyway, why was I cringing?
CNN’s, obsessive, non-stop coverage of the bail hearing has cast S.A. in a very poor light. I feel bad about that.
They have come a long way. There is still a long road that they have to walk.
I am happy to see black natives in power. But, many of them are still learning the ropes. I saw and heard the Police Commissioner for S.A. yesterday. I was so embarrassed for her. I can relate. English is not my first language either, and I too speak with a heavy accent. But, I am not the Commissioner of Police. She should have spoken in Afrikaans and let the media translate. Same this morning with the RAMBLING, egocentric babbling of the magistrate. Oh, dear. I felt so bad for the South Africans. They are not bad people. Invariably they are fun, good people. Many have hearts of gold. Yes, that magistrate made O.J.’s Judge Ito look and sound like a scholar and that takes some doing.
A shame. So, the blade runner will walk. We in NH need to do something about these women that have got killed. Nelson, alas, will die and I will cry. So too will Tutu. I will probably cry too. South Africa is on the right track. But, they have a long way to go. One piece of advice to the officials: IF Afrikaans is your mother tongue, talk in Afrikaans when you are being interviewed. It will give you some credibility.
..by Anura Guruge
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I am at a loss. As a Brit, deep down, I knew that none of the nurses duped by the Aussies would get disciplined — and that the Royals would maintain a stiff upper lip without censuring those who thought they were doing the right thing. As somebody who enjoys practical jokes, it distresses me that a bit of innocent fun could lead to this; she was the mother of 2 kids. Possibly there is more to this than we currently know. While she might have been upset, this was not ‘huge’. But, she might have been new to the U.K. I wish Prince William had taken a minute to talk to the two nurses and tell them that it was ‘OK’. But, he probably thought that it was not necessary. Yes, U.K. hospitals need to have a diluted form of the U.S. ‘HIPPA‘. I don’t know what to say. This is terrible.
…by Anura Guruge
Writing about the forthcoming Huggins Fair yesterday, got me thinking about this far from amusing incident with Huggins — and I knew I had no choice but to share it with you.
It was Fall 2007 and I was seeing an urologist in Manchester, NH — next to Elliott Hospital. I needed to get a PSA test done before my next visit.
My primary care doctor at the time was based in Alton (where I had recently moved to) and was affiliated with Huggins Hospital. They could draw blood, enter the necessary ‘stuff’ into the computer and then sent the vials off to Wolfeboro to be tested at the hospital. It was certainly more convenient than having to drive to Wolfeboro. Plus, you typically got faster service in Alton. So, I arranged to have my blood drawn in Alton and to have the results sent back to them.
My appointment with the urologist was on a Thursday. I was going to swing by the Alton office on Wednesday afternoon and pick the results.
I get a call from a nurse in Alton that Wednesday afternoon. She says that my results are in, but that they are NOT good. The PSA score had been marked as HIGH.
I was devastated. I had never expected any issues, at that juncture, with my prostate. Usually my PSA was always on the low side; below ‘1’. Now I had a nurse telling me that my PSA was high.
I still had the presence of mind to ask her what the reading was. She said it was ‘0.1’. I got her to repeat it. ‘0.1’. It was below ‘1’. But, it was supposed to be high. I told her I will be there shortly to pick up the result sheet.
I did a Google. ‘0.1’ was way LOW. Not high. Deanna drove me to the doctor’s office. I was in a trance. Long ago having seen what it did to folks I had vowed that I would never have my prostate taken out. Worst case I would go with pellets. If they could only guarantee 8 years, that was still ‘OK’ with me. So, I was, in my mind, already getting mentally prepared for the pellets. I called up my eldest daughter. She told me not to worry and that all will be OK.
I saw the nurse and got the result sheet. She showed me where there was a big, BOLD ‘H’ to denote that the ‘0.1. reading was high — and per the range, it indeed was very high.
Next morning we all went to Manchester. I was still dazed.
My urologist is great. A good Catholic. I had given him a copy of my first pope book. He liked it.
I told him the results and gave him the sheet. He read it, carefully. He told me that it was strange. He said that ‘0.1’ should not be high. I said, I thought that. I asked him if the test has changed, with a new scale of readings. He said ‘No’.
He was confused. He told me not to worry. That he was going to call Huggins. He said that I would need to get the test done again — at a different lab.
He told me he would call me. That was the end of the appointment.
I was still crushed. The kids needed to go to the bathroom. Finally we were ready to leave and were trooping out of the door of the main building. A couple came up behind us and said that the doctor was looking for me and that I should go back.
So we trooped back upstairs. The receptionist called the doctor. He appeared with a BIG GRIN on his face.
‘Mystery solved. Your results are fine. Way below ‘1’. You are good. Huggins had YOU coded as a FEMALE!’
So all of that was because Huggins had me in their computer as a FEMALE.
Well, I wasn’t new to Huggins. They had done blood work for me before. I had also had Cat-Scans at Huggins. So, it wasn’t as if I was new to them. Plus, in whichever light or direction you look at me, I do not look un-masculine.
I was relieved, but now was bummed.
When I got home I checked. To my amazement I found out that they indeed do PSA testing of women — and for a woman ‘0.1’ PSA is high. I think that in the main such testing has to do with transgender issues.
Now I was at the ‘get even’ stage. Called up a couple of my favorite lawyers. I wanted to sue the pants off Huggins.
Crushed again. Would YOU believe this: I had NOT suffered enough pain!
Yep, 24 hours of mental anguish, however, severe is considered bagatelle by the system. So much for the you can sue on a dime theory. I was told the BEST I could hope for was to get Huggins to refund me for the PSA test!
Well, maybe this story might help somebody else. Check the gender on your PSA results.