Sometimes I cry for no reason. Well, there’s usually a reason, I just don’t know what it is. Can’t pin it down. I didn’t know why I’ve been so weepy lately — I have a tendency to blame it on hormones. But I think I’ve pinned down my recent weepiness to all the stories I’ve read lately from pain patients. They’re frightened. They’re angry. Some are suicidal. And there’s nothing I can do.
Since we lost our fight with the CDC, many pain patients are wondering what else they can do to stop this torture train. Some are still trying to continue the fight with the CDC, but I think most have realized that we lost. Game over.
But what next? How do we continue fighting? I haven’t seen any good ideas, but then I’m pretty jaded. Write to our representatives? I’m done trying to find someone from the government interested in helping pain patients. Doctors won’t help us. I can’t think of any groups that are not on the side of the opioid war. I can’t think of anyone with enough balls to fight on our side.
The fact is that any group needs money and power to make a difference in this war, and most pain patients are disabled and poor. Are there any rich and famous people who suffer from intractable pain? There has to be. Until money and power join our fight, we might as well be chasing pavements.
Urban Dictionary: Chasing Pavements – A fruitless activity. Trying to achieve something that is destined to failure, usually as a result of blind hope.
So, let’s say I was Mrs. Warren Buffet. (If you’re gonna dream, you might as well dream big.) I have an almost infinite amount of money and power at my disposal. How would I use these resources to fight the opioid war?
In my reduced circumstances, it’s hard to imagine being shamefully rich. But this is a dream, right?
First, I’d hire a bunch of public relations people. We’d come up with an advertising campaign to advocate for pain patients. We’d hire famous people who suffer from intractable pain, including artists and athletes. Then we’d run a campaign that no one can escape, even if they don’t have an internet connection.
I’d hire a famous director to film a documentary about chronic and intractable pain. I’d pay comedians to use jokes about chronic pain in their sets. Maybe hire Adele and Beyonce to create a song and video advocating for pain patients. Plan music and food festivals with booths educating people about treating and managing pain. And educating people about their rights as a patient, with booths providing free legal services.
I would buy a couple of law firms and have them work pro bono for pain patients. I would buy another law firm to handle all the legislative work, including bribing politicians. I would buy a research lab that only works on the treatment of pain, probably in another country. I would hire yet another law firm to protect any inventions created by the research lab. I might even buy some media outlets, like the Huffington Post.
Do I have any money left? If so, I would build a Honeysuckle Haven in every city, where all pain patients would be welcomed, treated with respect, and never abandoned.
As you can see, I don’t have any answers. I can’t help anyone — I can barely help myself. I don’t know any famous or important people. I don’t have any money or connections.
It’s at times like these that I really feel useless. Just a package of meat taking up space.
All Things Chronic 