My name is Dr. Patty Hagler-Verdugo, PsyD. I am 57 years old. I have been married for twenty years and have no children. I was born in New York, moved to California at age 13, and now live in Nevada.

 

On May 15, 1983, at 12:00 pm (A date and time that is forever ingrained in my mind), while working in my dorm food service, I helped another student move a tray of silverware to another location. While picking up the tray of silverware and carrying it to another place, I felt a pull in my back (body mechanics were not taught then). I didn't think much of it, so I continued with my shift.

 

After the brunch rush, I went to my dorm room to lie down. When I awoke, I had severe pain in my back and could barely move.  After a lengthy discussion with my roommate, I decided to report it to the supervisor.

 

I went to the emergency room to be checked out. I was initially diagnosed with a strain or a sprain. The ER told me told to stay at bed rest for two weeks. I was given some pain medication and sent back to the dorm.

 

After two weeks, I saw an orthopedic surgeon. He seemed like a very caring and compassionate doctor. He gave me some medications and sent me to a chiropractor, physical therapy, multiple epidurals, steroid shots, more drugs, etc.

 

After several months, the pain got worse, and I went to the hospital for more tests. A new trial procedure called a myelogram (there were no MRI's at that time). It turned out that what the doctor thought was sprain/strain was a mild disc herniation at the L5-S1 disc space. The pain never got better, just worse, no matter what I tried, conventionally.

 

In 1983 a new experimental procedure was available called a chymopapain (papaya) injection. The hope of this surgery was that this papaya enzyme would be injected into the disc space, thus dissolving the herniation. I remember going to the UCLA medical school library and looking everything up on this new procedure. All the studies that I read pointed to the fact that this was a better procedure than cutting into a person. I went through the chymopapain surgery in August 1983. The surgery seemed to help.

 

In 1984, my original workman's compensation case settled for Lifetime Medical and a few thousand dollars. I was released back to work and school. I continued to work my way through school with various part-time jobs. I felt okay for two years.

 

In 1985 I started hurting horribly. I put off going to the doctor in the hopes that the pain would pass. Then I had no choice and went to see a neurosurgeon. This doctor told me that my problem was caused by my parent's ˗˗ divorce (what a crock). He said that I would have to live with it. Eventually, I went back to the caring and compassionate orthopedic surgeon I saw at the beginning of my injury. He did some more tests and recommended that I go into a pain management clinic. These clinics were a new way of helping pain sufferers, and I didn't know what to expect. I stayed in the hospital for one month.

 

There were few pain patients there at the time. We had group therapy (though we were not to discuss our pain out of the group), individual counseling, physical therapy, occupational therapy, biofeedback, and yes, medication reduction. I didn't understand some of the approaches that they used. I was not thrilled with the methods that this clinic used toward people in pain. I had returned to the same pain unit every time I had to go to the hospital. I remember that the head psychologist was trying to tell me how to live life in pain. I asked her, "do you have chronic pain"? She said, "no." My reply to her was, "how can you tell me how to lead my life in pain if you have never experienced it yourself"? That stuck in my head and solidified my choice to work with other pain sufferers.

 

In 1986, after my stay in pain management, I decided to change schools and move to Orange, California. I began Chapman College (now university), to continue my studies in psychology. While there, my pain was worsening once again. I am sure sitting in class didn't help. The pain management psychologist did not think that I was mature enough to have surgery (whatever the heck she meant by that), so I continued school in worsening pain.

 

Late in 1986, I started losing reflexes, and a second surgery was performed. In February 1986, the surgery was to be a fusion from L5-S1. At that time, I had to be at bed rest for six months post-op. No car, no school, no nothing. I didn't want to lose any time with school, so Chapman had videotaped classes at that time (this was for my bachelor's degree). I took one course at a time and had someone Procter my tests at my apartment.

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After the fusion, I told the doctor that I didn't need any pain medications after the second day of surgery. I was so delighted! The doctor had mentioned to me that for some time, he did not know whether I was drug-seeking or in the kind of pain that I was describing. The proof not only came with the reduction of medication but also while under anesthesia, he touched the spine, and I jumped. He explained that he had never seen that happen in all the time that he has been a surgeon.
 

I was discharged back to school in the fall, 1986. Six months after the last surgery, my dream about stopping all medications ended, and I had to start pain medications again. I had given Dilaudid early on because Vicodin had not been thought of yet. I was also on anti-inflammatories, muscle relaxants; you name it. The pain was so horrible that I had to frequent nearby hospitals to get pain injections. The pain seemed worse than before.

 

In January 1987, I underwent back surgery number 3. I had facet problems, problems, fusing, etc. After waking up from anesthesia, I remember how bad the pain was. This time, it never lowered, like after the first fusion. I had dreamed of that previous relief, but that never happened. While in the intensive care unit, those Ted hoses you wear after surgery did not fit me correctly. I had begun to gain so much weight since the injury. The nurse in the intensive care unit gave my legs a break by lower them now and then.

 

January 12, 1987, was my birthday, and my family and friends were visiting me with cake and gifts. After they left, I felt as if I was having an asthma attack but with some chest pain. The doctor phoned and told me some nuclear scans were needed. It turned out that I had a pulmonary embolism that went to my lungs. I was lucky that it was not fatal (as a lot are). I began a year of treatment of blood thinners. I had to be so careful with shaving, etc. so that I did not cut myself.

 

After my hospital stay, I returned to my campus apartment to stay at bed rest for six months. I was no longer able to take more video courses because I was close to graduating. The pain never seemed to get better. After recovering from that surgery, the orthopedic surgeon placed me in a body cast because I still wasn't fusing like I should have been.

 

During this time, I had had difficulties with my stomach. It turned out that I needed surgery for what the doctors thought was appendicitis. It turned out that it was not appendicitis, but a ruptured ovarian cyst. The surgeons removed a healthy appendix anyway and then moved to the left side and did a partial oophorectomy (took out part of my ovary).

 

 

In May 1987, I graduated from Chapman College with a Bachelor of Arts degree in psychology. While going through ceremonies, I remember being in this body cast under my cap and gown. I had to use a cane at the time.

 

After graduation, I stayed in my campus apartment as long as I could. I decided to continue my schooling and go for my Master of Arts degree in psychology. I went through many classes, and I loved what I was studying.

 

In 1989 my orthopedist sent me to a spinal specialist at UCI. He had hoped that maybe the specialist could do more than he could. This new specialist had an idea on how he could help my spine. He said that I needed to lose at least 100 pounds before attempting any surgery on me.

 

I had done everything to lose the weight that I had gained after the injury. I decided to have a vertical band gastroplasty with a gastric intestinal bypass. In 1989, it was a new and invasive surgery. After being discharged from the hospital, I went home to my school apartment and hoped to start a new life with this new procedure.

 

This surgery caused me dumping syndrome and vomiting after a small amount of food. The benefits of everyone complimenting me far outweighed the bad stuff.

In 1990, I had lost 100 pounds, and the spinal specialist operated. This was back surgery number four. The surgeon did an anterior and posterior fusion with Isola rods, pedicle screws, and titanium plates. I was in surgery for more than 8 hours. When I awoke, I had to lie flat for 24 hours. It was challenging to do that. After 24 hours, I got up and started walking. I still had a lot of pain, but I thought that it would pass.

 

After returning home, It took a long time to feel any better. I was placed in a unique Kydex Jacket (I called it the turtle shell) to limit movement. At the beginning of the next semester, I went back to classes and continued my education. I was only taking Lortab after my surgery.

 

At the beginning of classes, I was only going part-time, which forced me to move off-campus. I found an apartment right across the street from the psychology department. I tried very hard not to miss classes because of my pain. I went through most of my Master of Arts degree in psychology, and it was time to advance to candidacy. At this point, if advanced, I would be able to work in the community clinic.

 

After several attempts, they never advanced me from that school. I did not understand. Most of the professors knew me well. I even had a publication that they submitted without my knowledge of the Chapman College Journal of Psychology. It was a paper that I wrote on morphine in my psychopharmacology class. It was published in 1987. I found years later, the reason I was not advanced was that I was on pain medication, and they thought it was a liability. After being slapped down because of something that was out of my control, I stopped school to reassess what I wanted to do with my life. I was very depressed because I felt my dream was crushed after going through a whole Master of Arts program. I stayed in my apartment and just existed. Computers were not like they are now, and cell phones didn't exist yet. I had very little money (just my social security & work comp), and I just had the television and my landline phone.

 

In 1993, a boyfriend that I had had since 1983 decided he didn't wish to be with me anymore. I didn't realize at the time that it was a blessing in disguise. We broke up on Labor Day, 1993.

 

In 1994 I became quite ill and was taken to the hospital in time. I developed a problem called metabolic acidosis, which happens to diabetics (I am not a diabetic). The emergency room doctor asked me to stay in the hospital to find out how I got this. I had lost a lot of weight and was underweight at the time. I thank the Lord that I stayed. The next day while going to the restroom in my hospital room, I passed out in the bathroom, hit the floor, and had a cardiac arrest. I have no memory of that except waking up in the bed, having people over me, and not knowing how I got there.

 

I assumed that the medications caused the problems as well as my low weight. It was the second time my dependency was blamed on the difficulties that I had. However, in retrospect, I was taking a lot of medication at the time. The doctors believed at that time, that anyone who had to take narcotics daily was an addict. I decided to try the program that they had at the hospital. I entered in February 1994. I stayed in the hospital for one month and then continued with aftercare while at home. I was abruptly and completely withdrawn from all medications. I was so sick. I didn't sleep for over 30 days. The pain was horrible. They brainwashed me very well. I believed that I was an addict. I felt that if I took one more pain medication, I would die instantly. I went through Pills Anonymous, which is like Alcoholics Anonymous.

 

After finishing the program, I came back to visit one of the counselors that I trusted just to ask some questions about a dental procedure that required anesthesia and pain medication. After talking, he asked me to volunteer at the unit. I was excited because I thought if I increased my sitting tolerance and activity that maybe I could look for another school to try again with finishing my degree and then begin helping other pain sufferers. I started working in the office of the chairman of the volunteer department. The chairman's name was Dennis. He also had chronic back pain and was a recovering alcoholic. We talked many times on the phone. He had a great voice and sounded young.

 

About two weeks passed, this older gentleman walked into the office. I didn't know who he was. I thought he looked like an old geezer. He was close to my parent's age. He thought I walked like a guy (not knowing how bad my back was and that it affected my gait). Well, that gentleman was Dennis. He was 22 years older than I was, had kids my age, and was married (though he was thinking about separation). We talked and talked and talked. We had so much in common it was uncanny. We had started an incredible friendship that was later to turn into something a lot more!

 

One morning I woke up to go volunteer, and I felt like I had a bad case of the flu. I decided to rest and go back to volunteer the next day. I was too dizzy when I got up. Eventually, I went to the doctor, and I had a gastrointestinal bleed. I was quickly brought to the hospital to receive a blood transfusion (6 pints) because my hemoglobin was 3.0. After the transfusion, the doctors did some tests to see where the bleed was coming from. They could not find the origin of the bleeding.  After the weekend, I went back to volunteering.

 

The first morning back, I started feeling funny. I was exhausted and just didn't feel right. I decided to go back home to rest. I had a nurse friend at the detox hospital that I went to say goodbye to and to tell her that I was leaving because I was feeling ill.  She started to make a fuss and asked to check my vital signs. She would not let me go. She had someone take to the emergency room, and as I am getting changed into a gown, I started vomiting blood. I quickly began to go into shock and started losing consciousness

 

During my stay in the emergency room, I noticed that the clock had stopped. I wondered why that happened. Then I heard a voice telling me that I was not going to die and that I would follow a path after I got through this. Soon after hearing this, the clock started again. I had asked the ER doctor if the clocked stopped and if someone was visiting me while I was in and out of consciousness. He said no and that I was just in shock. What I realized after was that I had some near-death experience and that an angel visited me. For a long time, I never told anyone.

 

Soon after, my parents came; they sent me to intensive care. The nurses told me that another endoscopy would be done to determine where the bleed came from. I had refused sedation a few days before because I thought I would explode and die. My mom held my hand and said that would not happen. I eventually had the test with sedation, and they located the bleed. I also did not blow up. My doctor told me that I needed to have the weight loss surgery reversed because the anti-inflammatories ate a hole in the small stomach pouch. I needed to take anti-inflammatories for the rest of my life, and my stomach surgery had to be reversed.

 

Before surgery, I was so frightened at the thought of having to take pain medications after surgery that I told the doctors no pain medication after surgery. They were so shocked that they brought counselors over from the detox unit to explain to me it was all right to take pain medications for the reason of post-op surgery. They said to me this is under a doctor's care. I said it was also under a doctor's care before going into detox, so what was the difference? They had brainwashed me that well! I ended up having the surgery with pain medications.

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When I awoke from surgery, my mom and dad told me that the anesthesiologist lost a catheter tip when starting a central line. They were able to locate it but said it would be better to leave it there. The doctors also told me that when they tried to put everything back the way it was before having weight loss surgery, they could not. The doctor said that I would always have a malabsorption problem, including everything that I took orally.

 

After discharge, I went to my sister's home to recuperate. My mom was staying at my sister's house, also during my stay there. While at my sister's house, Dennis called every day to check on me. I don't think they understood our relationship. We were friends! I stayed at my sister's home for two weeks and then went back to my apartment.

 

Dennis and I got to know each other very well. We were like brother and sister. We found more things in common. On Labor Day, 1995, we went to Stateline Nevada for a breakaway. I remembered my pain getting worse again. I had to start using crutches. Soon after we returned, I received a letter stating that I was accepted by another school to transfer my master's credits, and I went back to school again. I was not going to give up on my dream because of some narrow-minded individuals who thought taking pain medication was a hindrance to becoming a therapist.

 

I was still having severe pain, and in 1996 I had surgery once again. I was still having problems fusing, and the issues around the spine had moved up. It turned out that I needed another fusion from L1-S1. I had to stop school and my internship while recovering but went back to school the following semester.

 

I graduated with my Master of Arts degree in clinical psychology in 1996 and was awarded a scholarship for my doctorate. I graduated one year after I got my master's degree because I had many transfer credits. I became a Doctor of Psychology in 1997. I specialized in the assessment, diagnosis, and treatment of chemical dependency (though I may need that knowledge while dealing with pain patients) and pain management. I also decided to advocate for people in pain.

 

While I was finishing school, I went to another pain management clinic. This doctor believed in treating pain with opiates. It was, of course, a pain clinic that is still there today. I learned a lot during this time about pain treatment with opiates. I had been diagnosed with multiple pain disorders early on, such as Rheumatoid Arthritis, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Fibromyalgia, Osteoporosis (due to steroids), and the list goes on.

 

In late 1997 I began having pain in my shoulder. I went through many tests, but the doctors couldn't figure out what the problem was. During that time, I developed a problem with my left pinkie. It was a bone infection called osteomyelitis. I was in the hospital for a short time, and they had me on high dose antibiotics for eight weeks at home.

 

About six months after, I woke up one morning and could not get out of bed. I screamed for Dennis. I was taken to the hospital, and I was told that the infection from my shoulder and pinkie spread to my spine. I had gone through several biopsies, tests, and antibiotics to try to get rid of this infection.

 

My spinal specialist told me that there was no way to get rid of the infection for good. Usually, surgery is attempted to clean out the infection. However, in my case due to all of the previous fusions and surgeries, it was too dangerous to do anything. The hardware was infected, and some were encased in bone, making it extremely difficult, if not impossible, to get out. Another complication was in the fact that I had an anterior and posterior fusion making similar blood vessels challenging to get to, making the possibility of bleeding out higher. The doctor also said that my weight was also a significant factor.

 

One significant side effect that started to occur was beginning to fuse at a non-physiological angle. I was becoming bent over. My chin/brow line (when I stand) is parallel to the floor. I am now fused at a 90-degree angle and cannot lie flat on my back or left side. I am also unable to sit for more than 10-15 minutes without causing increased pain.

 

In 1998 I started to see a pain doctor who told me that my pain was intractable and that the only thing that they could do for me was to try to keep me comfortable until I die. There was no surgery nor treatment at that time that could help me other than medications.

 

While I was with this pain doctor, he discovered that my malabsorption problem was causing issues with my oral pain medications, causing me to have to take enough pain medicine to kill a herd of elephants Any medication that I took orally (including antibiotics) had to be administered through other means such as injection, intravenous, patch, sublingual, etc.

 

In July 2000, Dennis and I were married in Las Vegas.

He is a wonderful man. I call him an angel without wings!! He loves me so much and has tried to take care of me from the time we met. Due to the osteomyelitis, at one point, I was bedridden. I am no longer stuck in bed. However, I am wheelchair-bound.

 

In August 2008, I finally settled my workman's comp claim that I fought for 26 years. If any of you have an insurance company that screws you around, "Don't Give Up." You fight until your case is settled to your satisfaction. I settled with a lifetime annuity and a cash advance to either build or buy a home. I am happy to say that Dennis and I moved to a small town in Nevada that is about an hour away from McCarran Airport in Las Vegas. We bought our home during the 2008 meltdown when people were not buying houses and purchased a new home that is almost 3000 square feet with an open plan concept. Before moving from California, we had some work done to the house to make it wheelchair accessible.

 

From 2008 on, my pain continued to be high, but I had problems getting the same medications as I got in California. I was on intravenous Dilaudid and had to let myself go through withdrawals the first holiday season living in Nevada because they are very strict on their pain medication laws.

 

I finally got through the withdrawals and found a pain doctor in Las Vegas that was working with me on controlling my pain. We eventually came up with a treatment program that worked. I was on different types of medications.

 

I continued to work with the pain doctor until it became difficult to continue driving up and back to Las Vegas once a month. I found a doctor in our area who was willing to continue my medications to help me with issues that would usually pop up in any other patient. When the Osteomylitis reared its head, I either had to go in the hospital for about a week of intravenous antibiotic treatment (in Las Vegas) and then home for the rest of the treatment for about 6 weeks. If the infectious disease doctor thought that I should go on a specific (very expensive, $500/vial) antibiotic, then I landed up going to rehabilitation for 4-6 weeks. If the antibiotic were affordable, I would go home with nursing care, and I would administer the drugs myself through a PICC (peripherally inserted central catheter).

 

Dennis and I learned to accept and prepare for this revolving door into the hospital. This also meant that I was an hour away from home. I couldn't expect Dennis to come there all the time. We missed each other so much. When I had to go into rehab for antibiotics, it made it very hard. There were no rehabs in our town. We had never been apart. We were prepared back in 1997 that nothing could be done to clear away the osteomyelitis.

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In 2016 I started getting abscesses on my legs (not necessarily caused by injections). The infectious disease doctor had me on and off antibiotics and drained the abscesses. We had no idea what was causing it.

 

In December 2016, I had to go into the hospital for an Osteomyelitis flare, or so we thought. It turns out there was a small abscess close to the hardware, and my spine and sacrum had become detached. A new spinal specialist recommended that they go in surgically and deal with the abscess and put hardware in to attach the spine and sacrum back together. I didn't think surgery was a possibility because of my infection. Still, due to the abscess being so close to the old hardware and the fact that I needed new hardware to attach the spine and the sacrum, if I didn't do it, there was an extreme risk of paralysis. I was sent home on strong intravenous antibiotics

 

In February 2017 I underwent this lengthy back surgery with a lot of hope. They cleaned out the abscess, replaced some of the broken and infected hardware, and put brand new hardware to attach the pelvis and sacrum. I did okay in the hospital, but I was sent to rehab about 4 or 5 days after surgery. After the first day of physical therapy, I had horrible nerve pain down both legs. It was a lot worse than before. They took X-rays rehab, and They said everything was fine. After being released to home, I had a followup with my surgeon. He looked at the x-rays and realized that both rods had come out of position, thus pressing on nerves. In March 2017, I went to the hospital for emergency surgery, where they reopened my back. I thought everything would be fixed, and I would be done with more surgeries. (so I thought)

 

In September 2017, I started to have what appeared to be an abscess on my rear. I was put in the hospital for antibiotics and wound packing and cleaning. During the treatments, they noticed that the hardware had eaten through my skin, causing the abscess. The only fix was to go in and trim the hardware. Again, we thought it would be a recovery at home, and in December 2017, the same thing happened on the other side. After surgery, I had to go to rehab again for antibiotics.   

 

In September of 2019, I had back surgery 10 again due to the hardware moving and causing an abscess. 

 

It is now a year since I had any surgery and I am now dealing with the opioid epidemic and having my medicines decreased just because the government does not understand the difference between addicts and dependent intractable pain sufferers. I have, at the request of my doctor, that it was acceptable to take medical marijuana and CBD. I had already decreased the number of medications that I took myself, but I was forced to reduce my pain meds even more.

 

We have a Chronic Pain website that has taken two-years to redesign. But, getting the information out to old members has been challenging. We also have some difficulties finding volunteers to help with the site! The board of directors of our fantastic website decided that we would continue what we have been doing and hope in time, we will find volunteers to help. In the meantime, if any pain sufferer has issues and needs to talk, our small staff is available to help out 24/7 by phone, email, or note on the site. If you are in crisis and need to talk just to me, let me know. My email is drpattyverdugo@cipay.org. Our phone number is on the website. We live in Nevada now, so our time difference is pacific time. If you are interested in volunteering, let one of the administrative staff know, and they will let me know.

I plan on keeping the site updated and bringing you information Like I have in the past.

For those of you who don't know me, I have dedicated my life to helping other pain sufferers. I hope that the issues everyone reads might help another sufferer not to make my mistakes!

****I HOPE AND PRAY THAT MY STORY WILL HELP SOMEONE, AND ALSO HOPE THAT MAYBE SOME LIVES WILL BE SAVED FROM SUICIDE. I NEVER EVER WANT ANYONE TO FEEL LIKE I HAVE BEFORE I MET MY HUSBAND. NOBODY HAS TO BE ALONE AGAIN!!!

 

Hugs and Prayers to all pain sufferers,

Dr. Patty Verdugo, PsyD