“What drug scares you the most?”
I asked then Director of Mississippi Bureau of Narcotics Marshall Fisher, (who is now the Commissioner for the Department of Public Safety), that question when he was a guest on my afternoon radio show. He looked me in the eye and answered without even hesitating, “Prescription medication.”
I think I scoffed. “Really? You’re kidding. You sure you don’t mean something more like meth or crack?”
He shook his head, “Prescription medication scares the hell out of me. It’s my department’s biggest challenge.”
Being naive, I wondered aloud, “how could something that a doctor prescribes be dangerous? ”
He went on to explain how heroin was becoming more and more popular in the state and how patients were abusing the prescriptions. He worried that some doctors were prescribing it inappropriately. He then told me he had a personal fear of it as well. He had surgery and quit taking the medication as soon as he could to avoid addiction.
That was probably 2011. Here we are seven years later and Marshall Fisher’s worst nightmare has come true.
The coverage in recent editions of the Clarion Ledger has been powerful. Looking at the problem from every angle, it shows us that there are no easy answers to this kudzu vine that is choking us. Prescription painkillers are like the devil and an angel on a person’s shoulder. For someone who is dealing with chronic pain, they are a Godsend. For someone fighting addiction, they are the devil incarnate.
Seventeen years ago, I had melanoma surgery. My doctor carved a malignant melanoma out of my back, leaving a five-inch scar and a 100-mile long dose of pain. The first day after my surgery, I swam in a narcotic-fueled haze. I was one happy camper. The stuff worked (it was oxycontin). With each pill, my mind and pain floated away, leaving me comfortable and relaxed. Then on the third day, I noticed something that alarmed me: I was taking the pills to forget that I had cancer.
I disposed of the pills immediately and started eating Aleve like Tic-Tacs. But I bit the bullet and stomached the pain. My fear of addiction scared me worst that any possible discomfort.
My friend Stacey Spiehler, who was recently named Jackson’s top server and whose story was featured in the Clarion Ledger, tweeted the truth about addition, “Everyone thinks it will never happen to them. Every single person.”
Stacey knows. It happened to her. I’m happy to say, she is eight months sober and rebuilding her life one day at a time. But she confirmed my fear.
Neil Woodall is one of the most positive people I’ve ever met. A fitness trainer, husband and father, he is one of the most inspirational coaches you’ll encounter. He also has wrestled with the opioid devil. A hunting accident left him with painful wounds from a 12-guage shotgun blast to his chest and the face. The miracle pills left him with even more painful internal scars. From an earlier interview in the Clarion Ledger, Neil said, “from the very first time I took the medication, I knew how much I enjoyed the way it made me feel. It wasn’t just the relief it provided from physical pain — the pain pills were the least of my worries. It was the relief from life in general.”
Stacey and Neil both had the courage to reach out for help.
Neil added, “I grew up believing that asking for help was a sign of weakness. The reality is that the moment I admitted I had a problem and asked for help was undoubtedly the strongest thing I’ve done in my life. There is nothing too big for God.”
Anyone who is familiar with the 12-steps of recovery recognizes what he is talking about.
So what is the answer? More legislation? Enforcement? Legal action? Cracking down on doctors? Limiting availability of the pills? A combination of all of the above? I’m going to say something that no columnist should ever say, “I don’t know.”
But what I do know that this epidemic is as much about mental pain as it is about physical pain. And I know that it can be overcome. My friends are living proof of that. But more powerful drugs like Fentanyl make the pursuit of the high even deadlier. If you know someone who is wrestling with addiction, remember they are most likely trying to fill a hole in their soul. And they need your help and support.
Seven years later, I agree with Marshall Fisher. Opioids, a great tool for managing terrible pain, scare the hell out of me, too.
