In the past, I thought it was funny when a group of my friends sat talking about how people used alcohol as a crutch, meanwhile passing around the bong for the seventh time. Now, I think it’s sad and inhumane when my friends bitch about “pill mills,” and the “degenerates” that frequent them, between beers and shots.
Folks are hating on ethically lenient pain management clinics as if they were street-corner crack dealers. They do it, however, without considering the possibility that these businesses are providing a necessary and beneficial service to their customers.
Sure, maybe these poor souls don’t have any specifically diagnosed condition, as defined by the medical community with its fancy educational process and knowledge. Maybe they were last in a debilitating car accident around the time Bill Clinton took office. Maybe they lift heavy objects or help their neighbors drag furniture out beside the dumpster or set up a Slip N’ Slide in their yard whenever they know they won’t be seeing their worker’s comp representative for a while.
But does that mean they’re not in pain?