The War on Chronic Pain Sufferers

Kobe paying a visit to my wife’s store yesterday

Ever since I had my bicycle accident last summer, I have had severe pain in my left arm due to axillary nerve damage.  I cannot, for example, place my left hand on my hip (in the arms akimbo position) in a normal way anymore.  I sort of have to hitch my arm up by moving my left shoulder up and back. Even with this trick, it sitll hurts like hell to do this simple thing that most people can do with ease.

I also have severe arthritis — maybe from guitar playing since I was teen — in the middle and left fingers of my left hand.  I cannot make a fist with that hand anymore. Scary.

Despite this very real disability, I cannot get Tramadolor, er, I mean Tamadol of course, or any kind of pain medication prescribed to me by any doctor.  I suffer from chronic constant pain, and every day has become an ordeal to endure.

Look.  I am not looking for sympathy, even though sometimes I have wondered how much longer I can go on like this.  I can try to grin and bear it.  But why?

Because some nameless Fed experts decided that prescribing Tramadol would be my first step into becoming a heroin or Fentanyl or whatever addict?


I am 68 years old.  If I was going to become a drug addict, it would have happened by now.  I don’t even like pills, and hate needles.

So I sit here in pain, and every day is agony — needleess to say, the quality of my life has been greatly diminished.

I try to not think about how my life has suddenly turned to complete shit, and how all it would take is a cheap prescription to regain use of my left arm and hand.

What a fucking drag.


leaving america