By Leslie Belt, Contributing Writer
Ten years ago, today my sister died from using a dirty needle to inject OxyContin. I wish I knew then what I know now. That Purdue Pharma knew exactly what would happen to her when they lied to the Food and Drug Administration, lobbied Congress to look the other way, and wined and dined doctors into plying her with pills that were clearly harming rather than helping her. My heart would still be broken, I know that, but at least I would have been angry at the real fiends.
As if we needed more proof that Donald Trump is the dumpier, less playful reincarnation of Richard Nixon. There are the uncanny correlations between Trump’s much maligned response to the growing epidemic of opioid overdose deaths and Nixon’s much mocked War on Drugs 1.0. Take the ham-handed timing of these efforts for example. Nixon announced his hostility four days after the Pentagon Papers had been released and Trump his amid the Russia probe, which is nothing compared to the alchemic spin that transformed Nixon’s war into an all-out assault on black people and hippies and is empowering Trump to pit the Drug Enforcement Agency and the Justice Department against chronic pain sufferers and the physicians who are increasingly refusing to treat them.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that it was a good thing that just recently the Council on Foreign Relations reported that more than 900 Americans a week die from opioid-related overdoses and millions more suffer from opioid addiction. Kind of puts a damper on that “Land of the Free” thing. What I am saying, however, is that the Trump administration’s recent efforts to significantly reduce the prescribing and production of legal opioids is tantamount to arming our military with Twizzlers and sending it to Disneyland to fight terrorism. In short, fighting the wrong war.
According to the National Center for Health Statistics:
“Further, after reaching its peak in 2010, the amount of higher-dose opioid painkillers prescribed in the United States has dropped by 41 percent since then, largely owing to a growing number of state monitoring programs that put doctors and patients under surveillance. Meanwhile, in 2019 the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency and the Department of Justice have proposed to reduce the quantity of Schedule II opioid pain medications by 7 to 15 percent in 2019, the third decrease in as many years. These reductions are taking place against the backdrop of the growing epidemic of overdose deaths from non-medical (read illegal) drugs such as heroin and bootleg fentanyl coming from China and Mexico.”
It is important to note that some doctors and chronic pain sufferers have reported to me (off the record) that they have benefitted from this increased oversight by the federal government. But much of the current dialog centers on the harm that has been caused by doctors who are increasingly faced with the decision to either stop prescribing legal medications to patients with chronic pain — most of whom have taken them as prescribed for many years, many who have become dependent on them — or risk being sanctioned and the loss of their reputations and perhaps even their medical licenses.
According to the Centers for Disease Control one in 12 Americans has debilitating chronic pain. These factors as well as the prevalence of pain make quick fixes unlikely. The third and final article in this series will explore who hurts (spoiler alert; chronic pain is more common among women, older adults, the poor, the unemployed, those with public health insurance or living in rural areas) as well as why so many of us hurt today and how we can help each other. Meanwhile check out my friend Betty’s inspiring story (below) of how she helped herself to withdraw from decades of prescription opioid pain medication usage after her physician abruptly cut her off. It is important to note that opioid withdrawal is serious business. My friend Betty (not her real name) is a retired health care professional and knew what she was doing. If you do not, please seek help.
Betty’s Rehab Story
It’s been about four months now and in hindsight I was lucky in a lot of ways. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard. I felt incredibly angry at my doctor, pharmaceutical companies and society in general the entire time. Suddenly, everyone was making it all about me. I didn’t see myself as an addict and I really resented being treated like one. I am a recovering alcoholic with more than 30 years of sobriety and being labeled an addict was hard for me to swallow, even though I had been on Percocet and fentanyl for pain for years. But now that I am off them, I have to say that my pain is just about the same as when I was on them. I just manage it differently now.
So, when my doctor wrote my last prescription and told me that was it, he wasn’t going to give me anymore, I decided it would be wise for me to wean myself off as slowly as I could. So, I went from two pills a day to one per day as long as I had them and changed my patch every four or five days instead of every three. It was still a lot faster than I wished it were, but I think my withdrawal was easier because of it.
After I ran out, the worst part of my withdrawal was the inability to sleep because my body would not keep still. Plus, I was incredibly anxious all of the time. I’d pace the floor all night. At one point I did not sleep for 72 hours. I still cannot get to sleep early, but once I fall asleep I’m good for seven or eight hours. Resting better makes me feel so much better. I’m still pretty angry, but when I take it out on others I can usually manage to apologize.
I guess I’d say that the restlessness and the anger were the worst part of this experience. Although I certainly did not enjoy those sweats, stomach cramps or the mood swings much. But I am so relieved to be off of those pills. It was really worth it.