Opiate overuse: a change in diagnostic criteria

In the DSM IV, that is, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, opioid dependence disorder and opioid addiction disorder are separate. Everyone on a chronic pain medicine for a length of time was expected to be dependent, but not addicted. Addiction was considered rare and was thought to be mostly people who abused opiates. Who took them for pleasure. Oxycontin, heroin, vicodon. Those bad people who were partying. Got what they deserved, didn’t they?

That has changed. My feeling was that it’s been a long time coming, but no one asked me.

In the DSM V, opioid dependence and opioid addiction have been combined into “Opioid Use Disorder”. They are no longer considered separate. They are a spectrum. Anyone who is on chronic opioids is on that spectrum. This is a big change. It has not really penetrated the doctors’ consciousness, much less the patients.

It is quite simple to score. There are 11 criteria. They are yes and no questions. Score and add up. The patients are scored mild, moderate or severe.

Here are the criteria:

Opioid Use Disorder requires meeting 2 or more criteria; increasing severity of use disorder with increasing number of criteria met.

1. Recurrent substance use resulting in a failure to fulfill major role obligations at work, school, or home.

2. Recurrent substance use in situations in which it is physically hazardous.

3. Continued substance use despite having persistent or recurrent social or interpersonal problems caused or exacerbated by the effects of the substance.

4. Tolerance, as defined by either of the following:

(a) a need for markedly increased amounts of the substance to achieve intoxication of desired effect.
(b) markedly diminished effect with continued use of the same amount of the substance.

5. Withdrawal, as manifested by either of the following:

(a) the characteristic withdrawal syndrome or
(b) the same (or a closely related) substance is taken to relieve or avoid withdrawal symptoms.

6. The substance is often taken in larger amounts or over a longer period of time than intended.

7. There is a persistent desire or unsuccessful efforts to cut down or control substance use.

8. A great deal of time is spent in activities necessary to obtain the substance, use of the substance or recover from its effects.

9. Important social, occupational, or recreational activities are given up or reduced because of substance use.

10. The substance use is continued despite knowledge of having a persistent or recurrent physical or psychological problem that is likely to have been caused or exacerbated by the substance.

11. Craving or a strong desire to use opioids.

Mild substance use disorder is yes to 2-3 of these.

My chronic pain patients ask, “Why do you treat me like a drug addict?”

The answer now is, “Because you are on a chronic opiate.”

I am starting to use the criteria in clinic. When I get a new chronic pain patient, I give them the list. I let them tell me.

It is hard because they often recognize 3 or 4 or 5 or more things on the list. They say, “So this is saying I’m addicted.”

“I’m afraid so.”

They grieve.

I am posting this because people are dying. The number of people dying from prescription medicine overdoses taken correctly has outstripped illegal drug use deaths, approximately 27,000 unintentional overdose deaths in 2007.

Here: CDC Grand Grand Rounds: Prescription Drug Overdoses – a U. S. Epidemic.

http://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/preview/mmwrhtml/mm6101a3.htm

The CDC article says: “The two main populations in the United States at risk for prescription drug overdose are the approximately 9 million persons who report long-term medical use of opioids, and the roughly 5 million persons who report nonmedical use (i.e., use without a prescription or medical need), in the past month.”That is “approximately” 14 million people.

Please tell your friends and those you love about this. Thank you.

first published on everything2 on June 4, 2014.

Don’t be perfect, ok?

This reminds me of a kid’s book I had, or possibly have. I may still have it. I don’t exactly know where it is. I’m not perfect. Anyhow, the book is about Peter Perfect, who did everything right. The drawings of the other kids being “bad” were fabulous. At the end the secret is revealed: Peter Perfect is a robot, with a large wind up key in the middle of his back.

I got this link from Big Red Carpet Nursing’s blog, about perfectionism being a big risk for suicide. Many thanks!

http://psychcentral.com/news/2014/09/26/perfectionism-linked-to-suicide/75399.html

In preparation

I wrote this on 9/26/14 in the midst of much frustration and my lungs still hurting three and a half months after I got sick. I am off from taking care of patients, but still have to try to get my business covered and my patients taken care of. I think there is a component of my vocal cords not working because I am told that I am wrong and to shut up so often.

Favorite example is a Seattle Infectious Disease doctor that I called to ask for help with an infection in our town. He said, “You are a rural Family Practice Doctor. Why would I listen to you?”

I said, “I’m a girl too.” and hung up in frustration. That attitude will not win him any referrals from me. On my permanent stupid moron list, along with an amazing number of specialists. They are either respectful or they aren’t.

Currently I am on no alcohol at all, because I have to do a special diet before a 24 hour urine test. Means no caffeine either, ouch, headache.

In preparation

Today I will start drinking
now
even though it’s only 9:40
in the am

I will stretch two beers
through the long hours
as the alcohol
blocks the receptors
and numbs my aching heart
and lungs

and I will stay home alone
today
so that I won’t talk

time
to rest my voice

in preparation
for the next round
of talk

where I am told
in no uncertain terms
to sit down
and to shut up

Cucumber love

Cucumber love

They say they love you

And they do

Sort of

One day you find yourself
Wearing a construct
An exoskeleton
Awkward
You can move
See out

You built it slowly over years
Because that’s what you were told to do
You wanted to be loved
It made you feel safe

There is praise
Or at least pressure to keep it on
You may not have known it was there
And slowly begin to feel
Who you really are
Awaken to the shell

One day you slip out

They are still saying how much they love you
To the empty construct

You watch bemused
For a while

You say “That isn’t me.”
“Of course it is,” they say

“I’m over here,” you say

Shock and outrage
“That’s not you!
You’ve changed, you’re depressed
Confused, manic, gone out of your mind!
Off the deep end!” 

You might even go back in
the construct for a little while

But now you’ve tasted freedom
You won’t be able to stand it for long
You will be out soon

Some people will see you as you really are

Some people will tell you they still love you
But as they say it to the construct
They act as if you’re still wearing it

They still think you love cucumbers
Though you ate that dish once to be polite
They hold the construct in their minds
Even after you’ve destroyed it
And behave the same as they ever did

As you walk away
You will wonder who they loved

first published on everything2 on June 9, 2009

Prayer for a dream

Prayer for a dream

Last night before I went to sleep, at 7 pm because I had had an exhausting trip to a lung specialist, I prayed for a dream.

I asked the Beloved to send a kind dream, a beautiful dream, a comforting dream to a friend. He says that he remembers all his dreams and they are all terrible. He has only told me one, a battle dream. He is protecting his teenage son in it.

So I woke with a vivid dream: I dream that I am at his house outside. His home is by the woods and I am in love with the forest. It has downed logs and deep loam and mushrooms and slugs and birds and small dark squirrels. I was the only woman in the dream and the only person. The others, including him, are shadows. I am digging in the duff quite happily, messing around, and listening. They were talking about cars and engines and repairs.

I am digging in the duff and keep finding things. Bits of metal, pieces of something. They are covered with rotting forest material that smells wonderful. One of the shadows holds a box out to me, about 8 by 8 inches square, to put the pieces in. I uncover one more. I lift it. It is a crown.

It is not a crown. It is a headband, but a hat too. I have a number of these headpieces. I like the ones with feathers sticking up, that make me look like a slightly deranged bird. People can’t follow conversations when the feathers move. It is fun to watch.

But this headband is metal and it has gems. I brush it off and the shadows stop talking and look. They move forward and then back away, leaving only my friend.

I have a moment of regret. We are now all sure that the other pieces have gems too. A robot? A statue? Made of metals. This is a puzzle and I am good at puzzles. But it is not mine. I will not put anything in the box.

His shadow looms over me and I look up. The sun is behind him, so all I see is a dark shape. I wake up as I hold out the headpiece. The pieces are his. I don’t know if he knew they were there. I was just playing in the loam. He will have to decide: more digging or to bury them again.