On the way back from Appollo in 02, I bought a new shaving kit bag at the K-Mart in Guam. it has a side pocket I use for blister stuff, etc., and what I call my 'OAM' (Old Age Medicine). If buddy reaches into my vest for my fd dressing, I don't want him getting mad at me when he pricks his finger on my toe nail scissors.
Fom an old post on this thread:
"When a person goes onto shalk from pain or any other reason a flight or fight responce is kicked in. This shunts all the available blood to areas that are essential for survival. the heart, lungs, brain for starters. This blood has to come from somewhere namely the periferal circulatory system. This meens that the muscles that you just shot the morph into now has a decreased circulatory volume.
To circulate the morphine into the rest of the body, it needs that blood to wash it out of the muscle and to the brain where it will do its magic. The result is that the morphine just sits in the muscle.
Now what was the old protocol for Morphine Auto Injectors... If it does not work then give them another to a total of X.
The end result is that you are giving a big depot of unused morphine in the persons glute or thigh.
Now fast forward to the UMS.
They start to stabalize the shalk. This caused all that "parked" morphine to hit the system all at once. The result is what we call in the medical world...BAD."
- I am a living example of similar. I had an L1S5 (or is it L5S1? I am a Crewman...) lower back 'event' in Nov, and got carted to the WATC clinic by two other Crewmen (also with 'experienced' backs. Track vibration comes back to haunt you..). I think I got Demerol first, then, after no effect, Morphine (or a clone?). Still no change, but when they try to get me to stand and my heart starts to come out of it's 'stand-by' mode, the muscle relaxent capability of the two needles (originally intended to help my back) did it's thing on the walls of my circulatory net, with the unsuprising result that I dropped like a half filled sack of grain, and gave the clinic staff a good - though unscheduled - training session. It was interesting to watch - in a detached sort of way. Calm, with a focused sence of urgency. In some respects like inside a tank turret.
I jokingly half accused them of giving me TX'd Morphine, or cutting their product to double their profits. I told them that if it was 'the street', I'd be looking for a new supplier.
Me; "I got carried in here this morning, and this afternoon, you wheel me to the front door in a wheelchair. You guys call this progress?"
The Doctor thought that was funny. The rest had a fairly pedestrian sense of humour by that point.
Anyway, the physiotherapist and good ol' physical exercise got me to where I did the BFT two weeks ago, so all's well that ends well.