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Show 396 Emergency Stop "I would rather be in under-dose than overdose," I am telling Dr. Emerson I have been back in the hospital for two weeks now. He has come into my room to yet again give the order to reduce the dosage of Baclofen. We still do not understand why this is happening. "Let's just turn off the pump until I show symptoms," I say. The thought of watching myself die because a nurse might be too busy or too distracted during a critical moment to notice that I am no longer breathing is terrifying. It is not much better to anticipate the agony of my muscles tightening so very far beyond their natural limits, pulling my body into such contorted postures, but it seems somehow less horrifying than not breathing, fully conscious. He places the wand over the pump in my abdomen and presses the button. Within seconds, the printer is confirming the emergency stop. The pump is off. "I don't understand it," I am saying to Dr. Emerson "Do you?" He is shaking his head in wonder. The pump has been off for two days and my worst symptoms have not yet appeared. He is checking my reflexes and pulling on my legs. All remains as it did |