The Broken Soldier

I was up for more than 5 minutes today.  I actually went outside.  To smoke, of course, but I felt I was making progress.  I don’t know how long I was out exactly, but long enough for my neighbor to sell me on a new front door (when we have the money).

We had just finished the ‘Patina’ segment of the presentation, when I began feeling funny.  Decidedly not “funny, ha ha.”  I got dizzy, short of breath, and nauseated.  Like I was going to die.  This from sitting for longer than 5 minutes.

There are several things, unfortunately, given my current health, or lack thereof, to which I could attribute this experience.  I may still be experiencing difficulty breathing from the procedure - from what obviously wasn’t a gentle intubation or the truck load of anesthetic I was given (due to my physical size and that I’ve been on narcotics for 16 months in lieu of treatment).  I could also have been having a panic attic - something I’m having more frequently of late.  It could have been the extreme pain from sitting up.  It could have been an overdose caused by the heat getting to the transdermal patch.  It could be a combination of those.  It could be none of them.

All I know is that so far things seem worse.  Not that I imagined this procedure, especially this late in the game, would fix everything.  But Christ, I didn’t expect it to make things worse.  And with the symptoms associated with the original injury, the pain isn’t better yet, referring to the neuorpathic pain, and my right foot and calf are still partially paralyzed.  And sitting up caused me to piss myself.  My body’s way of saying Happy Father’s Day.

Well, I’ve learned my lesson.  Pain and humiliation are great teachers.  Yeah, I think I’ll be camping out at Fort Serta for the rest of my life.

I’ve got the full script.  75 mcg/hr Duragesic Transdermal Patches I change once every three days.  Percocet, 80 count, 4-6 times a day, taken for ‘breakthrough pain,’ read to mean pain the patches fail to manage.  Robaxin, 90 count, taken three times a day for muscle spasms.  I’m feeling okay.  Really high possibly a more apt description.

The title?  Yeah.  “Oh Baudleaire, you’ve made worm’s meat of me.  Adieu, adieu … remember me.  Look!  The face of Death is near!  And so, I flail.”  The only other quote involving Baudleaire I know.  I’ve been two of those things.  I’ve been a member of two different services, and I am a published poet.  Now I’m going to be the third thing too.

My adopted dad offered me the opportunity to serve God as a cleric.  It’s something I’ve wanted to do since childhood, but, given the discipline (referring specifically to mandatory vows of celibacy) of the Roman Church and fundamental disagreements with Protestant Theology, I didn’t think it was possible for me.  With this offer, I can be married, have children, serve God as a priest, and not be forced to abandon my Catholic Theological commitments to do these things.  What a wonderful gift.

I’ll be starting theology courses as soon as possible.  Three years later, depending on progress, I should be ready for priestly ordination into the Benedictine Order.  The Abbot of my Order has suggested my primary responsibility will be to social justice, in particular matters involving service members and veterans rights.  To this end, the Archbishop and I will be starting a non-profit.  I will, given this order, complete a law degree, and possibly an MBA in non-profit management.

I truly believe this is my calling.  To help those who are or who have suffered because of the inefficiencies and built-in inadequacies of various systems designed to take care of our men and women in uniform.  I intend to get this ball rolling long before I’m ordained or JD’ed and MBA’ed.  I appreciate your continued support.

Another full day without the full prescription of pain medication.  My wife and I did manage to get generic equivalents of two of the three pain management medications.  However, during this pay period we can’t afford the primary pain managing medication, Duragesic Transdermal Patches, and pay our mortgage.  The medications we could afford, while I’m very thankful to have them, reasoning that something is better than nothing when speaking of pain management, but they were prescribed for ‘breakthrough pain.’  They were not intended, nor are they sufficient to manage post open back surgery pain.

The people at Fort Knox and at my unit have said they’re doing what they can.  I’ve been calling them everyday since Monday.  I talked to them yesterday, after not hearing from them.  I was promised they were continuing to work the issue.  I’ve not heard from anyone today.  Meanwhile, the pain isn’t getting better, in fact it’s getting worse, and unless my wife and I choose to default on our mortgage we have no recourse but to wait this out.  But we shouldn’t have to wait this out.

Why wasn’t my treatment plan, to include post operative care, figured out weeks ago?  If we were to pay for said care, which was not clear at any point in this discussion, why weren’t we told?  Had we been told, we could have saved money in preparation.  And why is it that I am having to pay for care while on active duty - the ease of facilitating care a condition of agreeing to Active Duty Medical Extension in the first place?  And why is whatever needs fixing not fixable in three business days?  I sense because managing my pain isn’t a high priority.  I’m getting that familiar feeling that something is wrong, and the equally familiar feeling that my wife and I will be the only people involved dealing with the consequences (of other peoples’ careless mistakes).

You ain’t kidding Eric.

It’s four days since I had open back surgery.  I’m in a tremendous amount of pain.  Long gone are the small amounts of various pain medications the hospital gave me.

For two days my wife and I have tried to fill my scripts.  We’ve been unsuccessful.  “Why?” is a reasonable question.  Because some one or some group did not do what they were supposed to do.  I’ve called around to try to fix the problem, speaking with people from DEERS, several offices in TriCare, Doc Grue at Fort Knox, and the people at my unit.

I’m transferred back and forth between their organizations, and to other offices within each organization.  Some voice sympathy, some outrage, some blame others within their organization, some blame those outside their organization, to include my state for not updating my DEERS status.

The folks at my unit do what they can, but take their cues regarding possible remedies from others - people who often don’t have correct information.  I have tried to make our position understandable, but feel I’ve failed to do so.

Doc Grue is having a word with my case manager as we speak.  As I explained the position my wife and I are in, he seemed angry.

Once again, my wife and I are faced with filling scripts or making our mortgage payment. At first I was comfortable with this decision.  We pay and someday we’re reimbursed.  And I will, given ADME orders, get a paycheck on the 15th.  We’ll be okay.  Then I learned the truth.  ALL of my requests for reimbursement have been denied per discussions with various TriCare reps.  My wife and I have paid somewhere in the neighborhood of $5k-$6k for a LoD injury, and we will likely not see a dime of that money returned.  We can, by law, petition that decision, but there’s a time limit for doing so.  We were not aware our requests were denied until yesterday.  It’s possible the time for petitioning a decision has passed.  With regards to pay on the 15th, who knows for sure?  I would have thought my follow up care, to include prescriptions for post open back surgery care would have been taken care of, but it hasn’t been.  Why should I assume my pay status has been?  We can’t really rely on these promises until after we confirm they were kept.

Why does this happen?  And why aren’t those responsible for fixing these problems actually setting out to fix them rather than pass the buck?

My neurosurgeon said the surgery went well.  For that given procedure, all that could be accomplished was.  It’s been a few days, and I do notice some differences in the kind of pain I have in my lower back.  The usual pain is achy.  The pain you’d expect with a chronic injury I suppose.  The replacement pain is sharper, and I assume it has more to do with the surgery than the injury.  But honestly, I’m so doped up right now I can’t really be sure what I’m feeling in terms of pain.

The neurological symptoms are the same.  Right foot drop gait, trouble with lateral toe and right foot dorsiflexion, sensory disturbances in both feet and moving up to my right calf.  The physical therapist said there’s not a lot to be done about these things, but there are shoe inserts and other devices to minimize the discomfort associated with these deficits.

Adjusting to medication has been the greatest challenge so far, the only major difference I’ve noticed.  I’m back on Fentanyl Transdermal Patches (75 mcg/hr), along with Percocet and Robaxin.  I’m so high that I pass out several times an hour.  And I’m itching like crazy - not unusual with opiates/opioids.  The drugs seem also to have strange effects on my breathing.  I’m having something like apnea, though I’m awake when it happens.  Weird.  Anyway, I’m sure this is only the beginning.  More to come.

My surgery is this Thursday.  They are going through my side.  I’m nervous.

In talking with “Doc Grue,” I’m feeling a bit better about things, but not much better.  The injuries are a bit worse than I had understood them to be - extrusion rather than protrusion, for example, but the methods of fixing them - fusion, for example, have slightly better success rates than the lit review led me to believe.  We’ll see.

Though remote, there is a chance I could die on the table or from complications.  This past week I’ve devoted a lot of time to tying up loose ends.  Big things like finishing up the editing and rewriting on my buddy’s book, to much smaller matters like arranging to have the grass cut, straightening up the house, and changing the oil in our car.  Still haven’t performed the uncomfortable, not quite perfunctory but close, “I love you guys” discussion with my family and friends.  I think they know.  Well, they should know at least.

This is likely to be the last post for a little while.  Meaning I’ll have to do without the minor ego-boost I get from weekly Google Analytics.  If you don’t hear from me again, I’ll be on the express bus to Purgatory to start my infinity x infinity term.  I imagine it as me sitting in the middle of an Al Franken and Rush Limbaugh discussion.  Both clinging to their political affiliations’ talking points rather than addressing the real matters they’re discussing.  Enya bumping in the background, loud enough to annoy, but not loud enough to drown out the discussion.  Toll-house demons stuffing mushrooms and Maxwell House coffee in my mouth and commenting on how much weight I’ve gained.  Actually, that sounds more like Hell.  Hopefully getting the ethereal zip code wrong isn’t part of the re-worked Deadly Sins.