Six Days Were Enough…

Another medication experiment gone awry, the Gabapentin proved to be an abysmal failure. Not only did the pain increase (the bone pain remained, but in addition I developed pain similar to the shin splints I had experienced back in my very short and rather insignificant track and field heyday doing hurdles), I zombied out for long periods of time between doses.

The clincher for me happened yesterday when I found myself so out of it that I was unable to reach for the phone when my dearest friend called from out West where her job currently has her stationed. It wasn’t exhaustion, it was the inability to figure out what was ringing and what to do about about it. So stoned that over the course of the week I couldn’t have told you for the better part of my waking hours whether it was morning or afternoon, whether I had just woken up or was ready for bed, if I was hungry or had just eaten. Poor Suzanna was almost as frustrated as I was with my lack of awareness and my inability to focus on anything more complicated than the hem of the bed sheet, save for a few hours each day as a dose would wear off and I readied myself for the next one.

A totally unsatisfactory condition for me to be in, this is not a state of mind I wish to visit – much less live in if given a choice. I understood that disorientation might come into play for the first few days, but it was only getting worse and dangerously so. The last thing I want for myself is to become unable to communicate with my daughter and friends, this last week brought with it a deep sense of isolation.

I’ve brought forward my views on dying with dignity, and this is another instance where I believe that each patient should be allowed to make choices best suited for themselves. The acceptance and refusal of treatments should be a major part of this discussion.

Are the patient’s wishes always respected? I’m saddened to say that from personal experience this is not always the case. Far too much of whatever energy I have available is spent discussing this issue with others who have a say in the direction of my care, but don’t have to live in my shoes. Let me add that the majority of my palliative team are supportive and nurturing, but there are few horizons yet to be broadened.

For now, I need to deal with the disappointment that yet another pain relief strategy hasn’t worked. I’m used to this and have learned not to set high expectations, however it’s impossible not to feel some sadness over yet another medication that didn’t help.