Informed consent.

At some point, I think I need to start explaining some of the things I write, else I fear, someone might read all that I’ve written and not put together the connections that exist with some issues for me.

I’ve always considered myself an independent person, able to care and support myself and others. This year, I’m less confident of that. I wonder even now. My overnight bag was filled with just my prescriptions and needed another bag for my other stuff. Doesn’t exactly make me feel great.. I may have a ninety day supply, yet that is just a three month long chain.

Over the course of this year, in regard to my surgery, consent was an important issue. Not just consent, yet informed consent. When my bar was implanted, it was the first surgery for which I was conscious and consented to the treatment, under the terms which were offered to me. Honestly though, it’s not that big of a deal and had I originally had the surgery that didn’t offer the option to keep your hardware, I would have been fine.

And, it wasn’t just the consent issue, though that was the sticking point my mind created. It was the fact that over the year of treatment, no doctor (ahh, just thought of the exception: Dr. April Yuki) treated me like a person. No one listened to the issues I was having and for even a moment, altered their standard courses of treatments and procedures designed – I think – for the bell curve of average patients.

The last few months, since August, Henry Ford had found the part they needed to extract my bar (a special Torx bit screwdriver head) and were ready to go. Minus, the exception necessary to allow me to keep my hardware. At that point, I had so many other issues being ignored, I refused to proceed unless as originally stipulated in my consent: to keep my hardware.

I wonder now, actually now I don’t, but I did for a while, why was it so important to me? With time, I’ll forget where I put it and eventually no matter what, it will gather dust somewhere. Yet, it keep me their patient. It keep me in contact with those I needed, my doctors and surgical team, waiting for the next step.

It is important that I document August/September/October drug usage. By August, I knew that the Oxy was not treating an ongoing issue of any sort, rather there was a CAUSE of my pain, and if I found it, and eliminated it, I would not need the oxy. When I refilled my script in August, I start at the regular dosage, and each day pushed my body to its limit doing any work I could at the house. I raised antennas and took them down, added radials, and redid my weather station.

If I couldn’t do the work I wanted to do, I took another pill. When the pills stopped working as well, I snorted them.

I want to mention something about that. Generally snorting is a very addictive behavior that leads to rapid increase. However, I’d like to note that I am very familiar with gettin high; I know how to do it and how to avoid it. Snorting a drug introduces it to you brain faster and more potently. The downside is that your brain will recognize the “high time” as the “effective pain relief time” and that is not true.

Taking an oxy pill, you will slowly get “high” for the first hour or two as it is absorbed in your stomach. Then it will slowly work for the next sererval hours giving you relief. I do not want to spend time getting “high”, hence by snorting, the effect was in my brain with minutes, with a bit of a headrush. Resting for a few minutes after, then attacking the day with no pain. If I felt “high” I worked harder, if I felt pain, I checked the clock.

Again, the downside is that your brain will start to think “I’m not high” as a synonym for “I hurt. I need more pills.” however, your body is lying to you. My body lies to me all the time. This year especially.

It’s morning, not even time to write yet. However, I wanted to give a few notes this morning. Packing up now from Angola and will be heading to Indianapolis. If I get that far, I may try to make St. Louis. We will see.

Time to drive.

One hundred seventy two point five. Much better than yesterday, yet not much at all compared to some of my past trips. However, in the past driving ten to twelve hours in a day was normal (Florida, DC). However, in the past the drive was just the method to get where I was going. Now, well, I have no where to go. Or anywhere to go. No plan and no schedule this time. That seems to change things a bit, as well as my overall condition right now. Also, after a few hours in the car, getting out to bed down for the night with plenty of time to stretch and exercise.

It’s only been three days since my surgery, yet the impacts are amazing. Yes, my abs (ha, okay, my belly,) feels great. I can butterfly my legs with my feet flat on each other, comfortably, as now my pelvis can open a bit. Also, it its great to feel my jeans not ‘hanging’ on my hardware. Mostly though, the effects on my foot and ankle are the most noticeable, secondary even to its cause.

Right side bar end.
I didn’t notice the lack of pain in my hips at first, as it has gradually receded. However, the dull burning/tearing feeling in my hips is gone. Now, having seen my bar, it’s easy to see why I did have that feeling. From the tool marks on the bar, I reassembled it with the screws in the same places, at the same angles. See the image. The bar was not symmetric itself an the screws were not placed parallel to each other. The worse though I think, are the ends of the bar, overhanging the pedicle screws by half an inch. I would have thought a fourteen thousand dollar bar might have been machined to length, perhaps with a beveled or rounded end, not a rough cut.

I imagine my muscles moving and tearing against that for the last eleven months. With it gone, all the muscle seem to glide easier allowing my to more easily extend my leg fully, lift my knee, and better place my foot when I step. More tomorrow.

Time to rest.

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