Withholding Pain Medications

Here is the latest ER blog on the withholding pain medications for the dying:

http://erstories.net/

Also, read the comments.

Martin

Pain meds for the dying--quite challenging and pulls all the moral and ethical strings, along with one's own "gut."

My grandmother passed not too peacefully. Much pain. No hope of recovery. Her downfall started with recouping in a very nice nursing facility after a bout with pneumonia.

To make a long story short, she got sick. She fell, and ended up breaking 4 ribs. Her body ended up shutting down. She ended up getting "comfort care." It was my moral and contractural duty as her healthcare POA and her grandson to follow her wishes that she would not be given extraordinary care to survive. I was assured she was quite well dosed. She passed quiet. Her heart gave out.

The other thing that we must keep in mind as migraineurs......this was really reinforced from my last procedure having a pacemaker placed.

This sucker hurt. It was placed near my shoulder--a damaged shoulder with a couple tears and a muscle detached to begin with.

When I was asked about the pain, I'd give it a 7 or so. I'd explain to the nurses that a 10 to me is a crushing pain. I've slammed my thumb in a car door, and I almost passed out. That was a 10. Pain isn't comparable. Each body part or system presents it's own number in my opinion (duh anatomy will back that up). A migraine is different than having extreme abdominal cramps. Same for cutting or a tare in muscle, or bone pain.

Several of the nurses I talked to (I had an interest on how we're perceived as migraineurs) said that people that say they have a 10 aren't that credible. One of them said it was amazing how many said they were a "10" but able to do a lot of things normally, and even text and talk on their cell phones.

It seems that if you say that you're a 10, you're not going to get treated like a 10 unless you really are in some pretty obvious distress.

Agreed Porsche. With my recent hospitalization I rated myself a nine. Why a nine? I couldn't speak and I couldn't stand up straight. In my mind a ten is I can't speak and I'm not ambulatory. Even though I was doubled over I was still able to get from my car to the ER desk.

I did hospice with my Dad and I'm very grateful that the hospice program allowed me to keep him pain free.