Opiated

While I am down and out, I can't stop thinking about my privilege. 

The other day on our weekly call, I said we should start a pool on what my total hospital bill will be. My submission was $210,000. 

Before this "event", I'm pretty sure we had not yet paid off our annual deductible. I think we can safely say we have covered that as of now. So much of this theoretical number will be covered. 

The debt saddled with someone who didn't have that coverage is just mind numbing. Even the deductible alone could be bank-breaking. 

Still - privilege is more than just about money, though arguably related. 

710 happened to have this week scheduled off. Unlike some work areas, his time off does not roll over year to year. So it is of a use-it or lose-it situation. And he works at a level where if needed, he could have either taken the time off with little notice or he could have found a way to work from home. Or I guess apply for FMLA to be a primary caregiver. 

But what if he couldn't? What if there wasn't a 710 and no other caregiver?

I'm guessing Discharge Planning would have me shipped off to a rehab facility. The severity of my injury had me on the cusp of not being able to go home as it was. But there it is: another financial obligation. 

I'll be getting in-home physical therapy for at least the next three weeks and then lord knows how long PT for months after. Mo money; mo problems. 

That doesn't even cover all the durable medical equipment one must have: walkers, grabbers, elevated toilet seats, shower chairs. I already had the crutches and cane. It all seems excessive until you find you can't move certain ways, or bend for the next three months. At least not without reinjuring myself - and the hospital is the second to last place I want to be. 

We should also discuss meds. 

Yeah - those are all mine. The front row, depending on the bottle, is either once or more per day. The back row are PRN meds (or, as needed). I think I've touched the back row twice since I've been home, as at least one of them is opioid related. 

I honestly try not to touch those, as I know the devastating effects they can have - and that is just the constipation, let alone the life ending scenario they bring. 

My first few days were nothing but mophine and fentanyl. Direct IV access. Several times per day each for several days. It takes five days to get addicted to opioids. They are a fucking nightmare. 

...and the sad part? They never brought me any pain relief. I found that to be true back in 1992 and 1993 with my ruptured appendix and original leg surgery respectively, but back then I chalked it up to other pharma phun I was having and assumed I had a tolerance. 33 years later proved me wrong on that. 

The only positive thing I'll have to say about my meds: cheap. Everything is generic. 710 goes, "I think the most expensive bottle was $4."  But you do get what you pay for. Little is capsule coated or gel packed. They are big, clunky, dry as a bone pills that are extremely difficult to swallow. But for a mere fraction of a penny, they could all be sized or coated for easier ingestion. Pharmacies wonder why only 35% of prescriptions ever get filled and 30% that do never get taken. 

Anyways. These are ramblings from a semi bedridden man who has too much time on his hands. 

I would assume my non-US readership is stymied by our healthcare system. Trust me - it's not just you. 

Song by: the Tragically Hip