IV Lidocaine: Injecting Pain Medication Directly into Your Bloodstream


Friday was a trip to the pain management clinic, which — per usual — was wholeheartedly depressing. I find that I feel even worse whenever I come out of those appointments because I realize how useless they are. Pain management clinics, that is. Massachusetts as a whole is now attempting to curb prescription drug addiction. That’s great. That’s dandy. But now my clinic’s stance is that they will not prescribe opioid pain medication to anyone except for cancer patients. We’re talking even something like Tylenol 3, which my pediatrician used to prescribe to me after the First Accident. Patients who’ve (responsibly) used Percocet or Vicodin for years are now finding themselves wanting and in withdrawal. Actual pain patients are being treated as addicts.

So I get my nerve medication and antidepressants, but then the big gaping black hole they don’t cover is alive and writhing and screaming in my head all day, every day. When I asked how to handle that hole, the nurse practitioner, oblivious to the fact that she has never experienced a decade’s worth of pain, actually had the gall to say, “You have to learn to live with the new you.” …

The drug was injected over the span of about twenty minutes. The doctor kept asking me questions, waiting for side effects to kick in — which happened almost immediately. I swooned back into the pillow on the hospital bed, wagging my tongue around; it’d gone numb. My face was tingling. My eyes slid around in their sockets like pool balls…

They kept asking me what my pain was on the normal one-to-ten scale. I started at about a six; I slurred my way to a one, which I haven’t experienced in more than ten years, and then ended at about a three. I was crying. The pain was almost gone. The pain was almost gone.

But not for long, naturally. Barely an hour after the procedure, once Husband had poured me into the car and then chauffeured me home, the base of my head was alight. My spine was crackling with fire. My hands and feet were jolting. What I think happened was that once they stopped injecting the medication, my body went from zero to sixty. No pain to all the pain…

The worst part is that this pain clinic said if the IV lidocaine doesn’t work, they would attempt an infusion of lidocaine mixed with ketamine. If that doesn’t work… shrug…

Under comments:

June 9, 2015
Oh-I have a comment on the use of ketamine for chronic pain. If its the “coma” therapy (well, not exactly a coma, but patients call it that. They put you out for a couple hrs w/ketamine, then wake you up. It is used in Europe. Not a permanent solution, but DOES help…

8 thoughts on “IV Lidocaine: Injecting Pain Medication Directly into Your Bloodstream

  1. So sorry you have to deal with such circumstances. I have been studying the opiate addiction in my addiction studies and we have discussed this very issue of people who really need them getting refused treatment. Doctors need to be better educated on addiction and what constitutes it instead of doing “business ” on black and white terms.

    Liked by 1 person

    • This isn’t my story, but if you follow the link, you can read more about this patient’s struggles. I gave up on the medical industry years ago, after it took all of my money and every last drop of my hope.

      The war against pain patients has been going on for as long as I’ve been one — about 30 years. And now, with increased pressure from the DEA, doctors are very scared. But with new efforts to “educate” doctors about addiction, tests have been created that easily label pain patients as addicts. The risks include anything from smoking to having a family member who suffered from mental illness, including addiction. In fact, it’s more important for a doctor to assess a patient’s potential for addiction than to treat pain.

      It’s a jungle out there, and I consider myself lucky that I’m no longer addicted to the medical industry and their treatments. Unfortunately, that leaves me with nothing else but the pain.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Personally, I’d rather be conscious and pain-free. Being ‘comatized’ isn’t for me. I told my daughter not to move to Mass. but her in-laws live there. I hope that you can eventually get the proper meds, honey. Sending you positive vibes! 🌞💆🎼

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Jo, poor you. That sounds horrendous. I don’t know how you hold it together every day, but I also admire you for not losing it in response to “learn to live with the new you” Moronic, patronising……pain-free people don’t have a clue. I truly hope you can find/access something that gives you some relief soon. They’ve started treating pain patients like this (attitude-wise) here, too. Medical profession thinks we’re all addicts. We aren’t. We’re in physical pain, ffs. I feel for you. X

    Liked by 1 person

    • This isn’t my story, but if you click on the link, you can read more about this patient’s struggles. And really, all I want is access to marijuana, but you need to have a lot of money to do that, at least in New Mexico, where I live.


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