The first time I was ever given morphine I was 25 years old. It was 2010, and I was hospitalized with acute pancreatitis. Doctors sent me home with pills of the potent opioid hydromorphone. My pain was extreme, and my doctors were concerned. The potentially life-threatening condition is rare in young people. Mine was caused by an abnormally formed bile duct with a small gallstone lodged in it—a condition made worse by a botched procedure that led to an extended stay in the ICU.
All the while, the pain, and pain medicine, increased. Occasional injections of morphine became a button I could push every 15 minutes for another release of the liquid opioid hydromorphone. As the weeks went by, doctors added a patch on my arm with a second opioid; I didn’t understand its significance at the time, as I had never heard the word “fentanyl” before.
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