Several months ago, that’s what Connie’s pain doc said to explain why he was reducing her dosage yet again: “Connie, from now on I’ll be treating your tolerance, not your pain.”

Say WHAT motherfucker? She comes to you for one very good reason: she nearly died in a car wreck that hospitalized her for more than a year. In a wheelchair for two. Lives with such agony right now that she wakes in tears, takes her meds and is still in tears because their effect is minimal.

And you want to cut back her dosage because her tolerance for long-term morphine has grown, as it naturally does after 10 years? (During which she never asked for an increase, I might add.) So tell me, oh wise doctor. What’s she supposed to do on this far-lesser dose of meds? It certainly won’t address her pain now – and no matter how long you keep her on that minor dosage, it will never give her any relief from her constant, chronic pain.

But you, you overblown twit, want to treat her “tolerance.”

Here’s a wild notion. Why don’t you treat what she came to you for in the first place? That’s right – her pain. Tell you what. You treat her damn tolerance, and — YOU can pay for her funeral, asshole.

After all, it’s going to be 100 percent your fault when she borrows a weapon and blows her head off. So, we thank you for worrying about our ‘tolerance’: it proves but one thing.

How intolerable and intolerant such as you are, with the power you now have over such as us. Could we ask a small favor? Yes?

Then kindly fuck off, and take your ‘tolerance’ with you.