"Dr. Bennett Fletcher serves as CJ-DATS program scientist and provides NIDA input to the network's planning and decision-making. According to Dr. Fletcher, 'As many as half of the individuals serving sentences in the Nation's jails and prisons have drug problems. The transition from detention or incarceration is a period of high risk for relapse to drug use, acquisition and transmission of infectious diseases, and drug-related recidivism. In its first 5 years, CJ-DATS identified a range of effective practices to reduce these risks.'"
Dr. Fletcher is no slouch when it comes to research and effective policy formation, and one of the things he is interested in addressing is the fact that that the last several major disasters that occurred in our country, especially Katrina, brought with them an interesting sub-population that experienced displacement; opiate addicts.
Now I'm sure this is nothing new; disasters have happened and displaced folks for as long as humans have wandered nekkid and hungry on the earth, and opium/opiates and those who've used the drug excessively have been suffering withdrawals when their stash ran out or they were forced to leave their stash - and their connections - behind since the first person ate a poppy and fell in love with the buzz that followed.
The problem of course is that first responder disaster teams have no idea how to handle these kinds of folks, and frankly, most typical medical units aren't really equipped to address the issues related to withdrawals either, which, if one has been using opiates, especially high quality, big gun junk like China White or the more prevalent and oh so popular Mexican Black Tar heroin (that's the one that grabbed me by the short hairs and didn't let go for many many years), is going to be very bad indeed.
I've heard people who really have no idea tell me that withdrawing from heroin or opiates is like dealing with the flu.
Yeah, right. Maybe if user was using low-grade peashooters like vicodin or codiene, I'd agree. Or perhaps if the flu also brought with it Dante's nine circles of hell and a couple of dozen World of Warcraft Ogres who repeatedly smashed your body with wood mallets, I'd concur.
But it doesn't and it's NOT at all like the goddam flu because I've had the real flu at least a couple of times in my life, and I've been "dopesick" dozens of times and I'm here to tell you, unequivocally and with absolute certainty that withdrawing from a serious opiate addiction is definitely not like the flu, got it?
What makes it different from the flu, and any junkie will tell you this, isn't the severity of the body aches, the diarrhea and vomiting, the wickedly disgusting potency of usually benign and familiar smells, the vicious "running legs" and insomnia, the sweats, chills and shakes, although they are all doubly bad enough to move a withdrawal far outside the realm of flu illness.
It's the mindfuck that moves it into a hellish world all its own....
I was withdrawing one time in a small northeastern California town and it was definitely a very bad kick. I had been using heavily and daily for many months when I ran out of chiva (street slang for black tar heroin). The first 24 hours were merely agonizingly miserable, but as I moved into the height of the withdrawal, the real fun began.
I was laying on the floor of my bedroom because the smell of the sweaty, filthy sheets made me vomit nonstop. I had a fan on to blow-dry the sweat pouring off my body and as I lay there, the fan began to make stange woowooowooo sounds, long, drawn out, like an engine slowly winding up, then down. I opened my eyes and was suddenly in a very demonic place, and I'm definitely not one to bring religion or religious images into the forefront of my thinking. I knew I was still in that bedroom, but the room itself had transformed into a large, greyish green area made up of moldy large blocks and had, at bizarre, skewed angles, these big iron doors like castle doors; rounded at the top, with what appeared to be big rivets going up one side, across the top and then dropping down to the floor on the other side.
I have no idea how long it lasted but I was forced somehow to visit every door, and in each of those rooms I was waved in by these....damned demons, all of whom could have taken a role in a zombie flick without any need for makeup or wardrobe.
Through it all I knew it wasn't really happening, but it was so powerful, so real and so terrifying that it caused a 'flashbulb" moment for me and it has been forever burned into my memory in all its detail so much so that I can clearly see it in my mind as I write this.
Granted, that was by far the worst mindfuck I've ever experienced, but the manipulation of one's thought processes and emotions while undergoing a strong opiate withdrawal is a very powerful and mentally painful separator from the flu.
The other aspect of this is the desperation in which one operates as they struggle to "get well" and search for dope. I would drive 100 mile an hour down Highway 70 (the Feather River bypass), which is a twisty canyon road following the Feather River, hauling ass to get to a connection in Marysville or Oroville and not caring whether I lived or died in a crash on the way. I surely ran people off the road and often was driving while puking and sick sick sick as I drove maniacally down that highway in a desperate drug seeking run.
I know too how someone could rob a store or a person at gunpoint, although thank the Gods I never stooped to that level, but the fear of that sick is so strong that some people are driven to actions they'd never ever consider under any other circumstances.
So I will spend today enlightening "first responders" to the challenges and pitfalls in dealing with displaced opiate addicts under the tutelage and supervison of Dr. Fletcher. I'm excited that I can turn the worst part of my life's history into something positive and helpful for others, and I owe a huge thank you to BigWillyC for referring Dr. Fletcher to me. Ought to be a real hoot today....
