My Journey With Pain

My story began forty years ago when, after a fall at work, I developed a severe pain problem. At that time I was 32 years old and a single mother of two. I had a job I loved in a private school system, lived in Redondo Beach close to the ocean I loved, and life was good. However, after the fall, my pain continued to the point where I was forced to resign from my job and return to my home base in San Jose, California to live with my best friend. To say that I was devastated would be putting it mildly. I still had kids to raise and a life to live. However, after a few months fate stepped in. My car developed a problem that required fixing, (little did I know what a great thing this would become) so I took my car in for repair and, as it turned out, the owner of the shop waited on me. It was, for me, love at first sight, and within a short time we leased a house and started our life together.

Shortly after, I found a doctor who specialized in chronic pain. It was at this time I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome, and I began a 35-year journey with pain medication. It was, for me, a lifesaver, with very mild side effects. I was able to lead an active and purposeful life. I never abused my medication in any way, never doctor shopped, never lost a bottle of meds, never sold or gave away a single pill, and experienced no euphoria. For the next thirteen years life moved on, until I was betrayed in the worst way possible by the man I loved. He suddenly decided he did not want to be married to me. I found out later that he spent a full year with his attorney planning his assault on me (I had no clue). As a result, he, along with his judge-friendly attorney convinced the court that because I used pain meds, I must be an addict, and the judge gave all of our assets to him. During the time we were together we had purchased a house using my disability settlement as the down payment. We bought this house for approximately $225,000. After the divorce, he sold it for $1.2 million. I lost everything I had worked for my whole life, gone in one fell swoop.

Once again I was devastated. This attack on me was vicious and totally unexpected. As I was older (53), broke, and unable to work, I applied for disability and, based on my medical records, it was granted, so at least I now had medical insurance and a small monthly income. I applied for Medi-Cal. Shortly after receiving my disability status, I moved in with my daughter who had just become a widow, and she had two young children. For the next approximately twenty years life moved forward. Of course other health issues began to happen, but I continued my pain meds with never ever a single issue as I had great respect for my meds. I used them in a way that allowed me to have purpose for many years. It allowed me to spend time playing golf, which I loved—I paid a price but that was just part of the bargain.

I never misused my meds in any way—it was far too important to my life to risk any kind of issue. I never sold or gave away a single pill, never "lost" a bottle, and had the same doctor for the last twenty years. However, I began to be aware of my governments "War on Drugs" and the many lies being told. Few are aware of the insidious interference and attack now being waged against chronic pain patients and their doctors. Doctors have been terrorized and targeted for legal actions and for some reason they have not fought back. They are party to the horror that is happening today. These doctors are turning their backs on terminal cancer patients among other atrocities. It is reported...