My best friend knows a woman that is a BIG time drug abuser. She went to the doctor paying in cash and walked out with Hydrocodone 5mg. her first visit. Her second visit she walked out with 7.5mg hydrocodone. Next month they are going to give her 10mg.

The only reason this lady wants the pain pills is so that she can trade them off for things she can inject into her veins.

All she did was walk into the doctor and said I have back pain and POOF. They hand her over exactly what she wants!

I wish there was a way I could find out who her doctor is because I would call him or her and give them a piece of my mind! She has track marks all in her arms so she won't be able to lie her way out of it!

Here I have been siffering for a year and a half and this drug addict can walk into some doctor office and get something she doesn't even need! Yes I'm furious! This is not right.

I don't want her doctor to get in trouble because then it will only strengthen the fear all doctors have about treating peoples pain. I just wish there was a way to get her in trouble.

It's people like her that make it hard for people like us.

i live in atlanta georgia with my father and stepmother.......my mother just surprised me from california and not for a good reason. i had a bad day sunday. lets do it backwards...i was in the emergencyfor 7 hours and 20  min on sunday my symptoms: disturbed vision (i could only see outlines of things everything was a blur, couldnt even make out faces) , severe headeache ( a 10) chest pain, vomiting (some dry heaving) no control of right arm (shaking) and of course i was in panic becuase i was scared....all this becuase i forgot new medication means NO DRINKING!!!! i was jsut upped on my med ication from only 10mgof lexapro to 40mg of leaxapro, 30mg of buspar, and birth control and i am a binge drinker. i drank less than i normally did becuase i had blacked out b4 i could drink nemore. sat nite i had 8 double shots of vodka i usually drink more so i know the meds and alcohol did it in for me. i did not do this on purpose. i have really been working on not having suicidal thoughts. i havent hurt myslef in weeks. i have been going to thearpy and i was SO stupid for drinking that much on new med.  but to honest its the only time i can forget all these emotional and mental problems i am having when i used to be so independent and involved.  these days im withdrawn and fighting depresseion and panic attacks and not doing anything for myslef.

so here is the big issue my mom came down from cali to pretty much i guess beat the mess out of me bcuz she was so angry for what i had did (once again i didnt do it on purpose) so she wants to know how did i get into such a crisis that im on meds, hurting myslef, fighting this other me to not kill myslef, why do i  have panic attacks, why am i depressed, what happen to the kayla she knew? is this for attention? NO things are actually worse when i am alone becuase i have no around me to feel safe (part of my dependency issue) are you lazy and jstu dont wana do anything? NO im afraid to do anything. im afriad to move on and go outside and go to class. i dont like sitting in the house but i dont like being out around too many ppl where i cant escape.

the truth is most days i dont wana be here anymore i feel it would be better if i didnt have to suffer this way anymore. if i didnt have to feel  like i was dying multiple times a week (thank you jesus that you have blessed me to not to feel that way more than once a day now) as you can see im obviously am having issues with my faith. kayla still belives and prays but this other person....wants me to die.

there are so many more things going on within this situation including alot of things im feeling and think. im missing school (though making good grades) im not listening to my dads house rules. (cleaning, that sat i was drunk i did not make it home til 8am my curfew was at 2am and i still had to find a way to get my dads car becuz i coudlnt drive) there are sooooooooooooo many things going on that i am leaving out...but the problem is.......how do you tell you mother?

Recently I got an email from a woman in Germany, desperately seeking advice on how to communicate with her BiPolar friend who is acting 'strange' (Imagine That!).  I get at leasta dozen of these type of emaials a day from my art web site (The Bio section, where I candidly talk about my depression). 

Anyway, I responded to her in my blog.  Check it out if you arre interested.

 http://www.uswalker3.blogspot.com

Looking back over what I have written, I apologize (no, I don't) for ranting a bit ... I am a bit, a BIT manic right now, and blurted out some memories.  It's helped me.  Here it goes ...

I have learned to be very careful with who I share my mental ilnness issues with, as I do with my alcoholism.  Unfortunately, there is still so much misunderstanding about depression, with 'normies' that experience situational depression from time to time.  They look at us with contempt, as weak because they had the strength to 'pick themselves up', 'think happy thoughts' or whatever form of self discipline they used that they judge us as lacking.

It really isn't their fault.  They simply don't understand.  I'm learning this even more, everyday, especially the last few days with all the comments I've gotten from 'normies' that have expressed that they have a different way of looking at those they love, struggling with mental illness.

The most maddening part of my journey, was the ignorance and misunderstanding of my illness and symptoms from the very people that I have always believed I could trust - the medical profession.

Sometimes it would take me a year of intense suffering before I was worn down enough to be able to crawl into my doc's office and lay out all my symptoms, only to be told "Sounds like you a have a bit of depression." 

"A BIT OF DEPRESSION, YOU .......... .........!" I think.  Then she gives me that nervous, almost scared little smurk of hers and shoves a piece of paper with 12 questions into my hand, leaves the room and asks me to evaluate my 'bit of depression.'   Hell, I can't evaluate up or down, black or white, reality from delusion ... I can barely hold the pen as I am shaking so bad from the inside out and she wants me to calmly assess MY condition?

Then, she comes back, glances at the paper, and says, "Yes, seems like you are pretty gloomy these days."  OK, that's about it!  This ...... is going to get a a good healthy dose of MY reality. 

"Hey doc, do you think it's normal to wake up in the morning and the first thought of the day, is that you want to be dead.  Do you think it's normal, that in order for me to even fall asleep at night, I create these elaborate fantasies of my own death, complete with my hands folded neatly across my chest, which fills me with a sick sort of peace, that lulls me into a fantasy that reassures me that the pain is over, that I have to fool myself into thinking I am dead, in order to function?"

"Well, does sound a bit serious."  She uses that word 'bit' just one more time, and I think she will get a first hand lesson and example of exactly what 'going mental' looks like, right here here in her little cubicle.  "OK, calm down wacko, let's try and get some help," I reassure myself.

"So, what do you think we ought to do?" she asks, ME!!!! 

THAT's IT ... I'm done acting sane.  I can no longer control it and start shaking and crying ... ****, I hate that.  A 54 year old man, that has always prided himself on being able to handle anything that life has to throw at me, has totally broken down in front of my incompetent medical expert. 

"What do I think we should do,"  I shout at her. 

"Do you have any idea what it took for me to walk in here today.  It took me 6 months of agony to even pick up that damned phone to make an appointment and now ... NOW, you ask ME, what I think?" 

"I CAN't Think anymore, that's why I am here.  I don't trust my thinking.  I'm scared.  I'm scared to death that I'm losing my mind.  Do you have any clue how terrifying that is, to believe that you are actually losing the ability to control yourself, to function or to even pretend to be OK?  Do you have any clue as to the fear I have of what it would be like to be locked away, forgotten and written off, lost forever in a coma of insanity?  I NEED YOU, to HELP ME!!!!  I don't know what to do.  For two years, I've been coming to see you, beating around the bush, always afraid that you are thinking in the back of your mind, "Oh here comes that hypocondriac ... wonder what new symptoms he has now.  My sick mind won't even allow me to look into the eys of your staff nurses imagining that they are all laughing at me as well, hell, they probabaly laugh about me at lunch.  This is the what my head thinks about ... Do YOU think normal people obsess over these kinds of things D O C T O R ?  I need help, please, help me."

I felt better.  Relieved.  Had a sense of hope that maybe she will finally understand the depth of my suffering, that I'm not making this stuff up, that I need help .... until ... once again, I see that scared, nervous look on her face as she attempts a smile and says, "Alrighty then, I think we should try an anti-depressant." 

"Oh GOD!  I have so been here before, for 15 years, I have so been here, and have tried every kind of anti-depressant known to medical science," I think to myself.  Maybe I should just walk into a mental hospital, lie down on the floor and let them whisk me away into Zoo-land ... I just don't care anymore."  This, was my experience with the medical community, for many years.

As I've written in my journals, it took many more years, before I happened upon the perfect storm, a set of circumstances that availed a new opportunity to get the proper care, medical professionals that understood what they were talking about.  Do I regret those years.  Not really.  Guess it took what it took to get here.  Do I wish I would have found the proper diagnosis earlier in life, saving so many years of pain and suffering.  Yes, of course, but that's just not the path I was supposed to walk.

Today, I will NEVER stop trying because I KNOW what it feels like to be alive and even though I may not be there, as I write, I've been shown the miracle of sanity.  It was possible once and it is possible again.  I will never give up on myself.  This disease is treatable.

For anyone out there that is suffering and has lost hope and feels embarrased and humiliated - I suggest that you GET MAD!  Do whatever you need to do to get listened to and don't be afraid to express your pain and ask for help.  My ego held me back, for so many years from uttering the three most powerful words I have ever verbalized, resulting in almost instantaneous results ... "I NEED HELP.  Please help me."

God Bless Us All.  We deserve it. 

Louie R. (Uswalker);

http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php

I had a huge confrontation w Liz last saturday (12/1). It all started with me wanting MY cellphone back so I could use it, she said ok and I waited abt 5 or 6 mins and when she still didnt bring itI went back to her room and said NOW.

Than thats when all hell broke loose. She came into my room and threw my phone on the bed and began a tirade of cussing and fussing, saying all sorts of stuff, hurtful stuff. I tried to stay calm but whoa she knows how to push the right buttons and before I knew it, I was engaged in a war of words. Finally I snapped and said you know what I have had enough of you and your verbal abuse and disrespect and gave her until Jan 1 to get out of the house.

So the next day I gave her a list of shelters and told her some had some openings. I guess she thought I was joking or said it out of anger about her getting out by the 1st cause she came back to my room and started another outburst. This time I did remain calm, I then called her stepmom for help and so she came over and then called and asked my ex to come by after work. She was out of control now. So as I talked w Pam, I realized she had to go now, having her wait around until the 1st would not be healthy for either of us or the other children to be subjected to the tension and outbursts.

Pam has a friend that does foster care so she called her for guidance. The friend offered to take Liz and the baby in for the night and then take her to the shelter in the morning.