Pubdate: Tue, 17 Jan 2012
Source: Toronto Star (CN ON)
Copyright: 2012 The Toronto Star
Contact:  http://www.thestar.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/456
Author: Joe Fiorito, City Columnist 

HER LIFELINE IN THE MORNING

She was on her way to the clinic. We went there in a cab. Her doctor 
keeps an office in a strip mall in the northwest corner of the city. 

She sees him on a regular basis - she has been seeing him for a long 
time - but she was worried today because she had heard he was going to retire. 

Her doctor is her lifeline. He gives her methadone. It comes in liquid 
form, in little bottles; the taste is vaguely orange. 

"I'll be on methadone for the rest of my life." You cannot tell that 
about her, no matter how hard you look. "I pick it up every two weeks. 
I'm tested once a month." 

Her relationship with her doctor is as important as the methadone: 
it's personal, they talk, she feels he knows and understands. 

He once worked in Corrections; his practice is small, and includes 
several former addicts. Were he to retire, she would have 
alternatives, but she feels most other forms of help are like assembly 
lines and she's not keen on group therapy. 

The cab rolled on. 

How old was she when she started using drugs? "I was 12 or 13 years 
old. I started taking things out of the medicine cabinet. Then I 
started doing LSD and cocaine. I was 15 when I had my first overdose."

She was the third of seven kids; her father drank; her goal, when she 
was 13, was to pull the biggest scam in the world. Her reach exceeded 
her grasp; she ended up spending a dozen years in jail.

"I did bank fraud. I grew up to be a con. When my husband died, I went 
into a spin; heroin, you can't get away from it." In fact, she is 
proof that you can get away from it if you are lucky enough to find 
what you need when you are ready to need it. 

How long has she been away from drugs? "Sixteen years." Is it still 
hard? She gives me a look; harder than hard, hard squared and cubed 
for her. "I have panic attacks." 

How did she kick? At some point, between the high flights and the wild 
falls, she knew she'd have to stop; and then, when she was at her 
lowest, someone said she should see this doctor. 

He agreed to see her on short notice. They talked, and he helped her 
get through the weekend, and that was how it began; it beats shooting 
up in the washroom of the bank where she once worked.

If the cab driver was listening, I don't know what he thought. I think 
we live in a world of wonders.

"Could I quite methadone? I don't think so. If I go two days without, 
I get cramps, sweats." Her faith in herself is strong and fragile at 
the same time.

We pulled into the strip mall. They know her well in the clinic. She 
did not get a free pass to the washroom; she had company. "People have 
been caught with tubes up their legs, and bottles of clean urine."

You should also know this: methadone is a commodity on the street. 
Some people get their scrip filled, keep half, sell the rest, say they 
"lost" it, and try to get more. 

Her doctor does not replace doses. He is a temperate man, calm and 
reassuring. And he is not, thank goodness, about to retire. 

He said, "If I had to send my patients to another doctor? As soon as 
they hear the word 'methadone,' they take a step back."

He reassured her, and they parted, and she walked down to the pharmacy 
to get her prescription filled; safe for two more weeks.
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MAP posted-by: Richard R Smith Jr.