This is … a little weird. This young lady has flesh-eating bacteria running rampant through her body, it’s already cost her some extremities. But she refuses pain meds:
USA Today – Aimee Copeland despises the use of morphine in her treatment, despite its effectiveness at blocking her pain, her father said in a Friday online update on his daughter’s condition. Her graduate-school study of holistic pain management techniques leads her to feel she’s a “traitor to her convictions” when she uses drugs to manage her pain, Andy Copeland said.
He also said the morphine has been making his daughter groggy, confused and has given her unpleasant hallucinatory episodes.
Aimee Copeland, 24, developed necrotizing fasciitis after cutting her leg in a fall May 1 from a homemade zip line over a west Georgia river. Her left leg, other foot and both hands have been amputated.
I’m not real sure what the point of that would be. Don’t get me wrong, it’s her body, her nervous system, her choice as far as I’m concerned. But I’ve had a few injuries and surgeries over the years where the only thing standing between me and attempted suicide to escape the pain was a big jug of IV narcotics dripping oh so gently into my vein or some kind of sedative.
I’m not sure what holistic pain management means. And granted I’m a middle-aged male so I probably don’t have the pain tolerance of a 20 something female. But if holistic pain management means some kind of Vulcan mind control, I’ve tried that. It does not work very well. There is pain, and then there is pain, the kind of pain that leaves you whimpering and writhing in agony begging for a shot or to be knocked out. I have sampled both kinds often enough to know the difference. Trying to get into some kind of zen state can help get you to the ER, or kill time before the next pain shot when the nurse is taking her sweet ass time getting to your room, but that’s about it. Sooner or later, intractable pain will break down any barrier you think you can erect, usually sooner.
And really, if my hands and feet are being eaten off by bacteria, or my sternum cracked open for heart surgery, or half my body surface burned to a cinder, I want to be groggy, I want to be drifting in and out, and more out than in. Sleep can be a great anesthetic and if one doesn’t like the effect of morphine, there are a bunch of other drugs in the hospital that will knock you out een better.
Other than someone suffering needlessly and the tragedy of it all, I’m not sure why this bothers me. But for some reason it does. There’s a tingling spidey sense crawling up my back that somehow this is related to traditional religion or new age nonsense or something like that. I get the same feeling as when someone brags about how they didn’t use an epidural or pain meds when giving birth. Maybe you decided you could get by without, but what about the poor baby? Isn’t that tiny bit selfish and holier than thou? Don’t you think s/he would have appreciated a little morphine before being shot out of a meat cannon into the cold, cruel world? I know I would.