I AM ONE OF THE MILLIONS IN THE OPIOD EPIDEMIC

I am not even certain of the time line, but feel it important to share this. Almost ten years ago I was involved in a serious motorcycle accident which shattered my lower right leg in multiple places.

Two operations later, I was still in a great deal of pain and consulted with my physician several times, finally asking if there was some sort of pain relief that could be administered. The doctor mentioned Fentanyl but was hesitant to prescribe it as was just being marketed and might be very addictive.

Ultimately, I accept responsibility for finally talking the physician into allowing me to use duragesic Fentanyl patches to control the constant pain. I am in no way accusing anyone but myself. I used the patches, changing to a new one every three days for over nine years.

Within the last year, my use became more of a hassle, as I had decided, with a new physician, that I would start weaning myself from the drug, so the first step was to go from 75mg to 50mg patches. For some unknown reason, at least to my way of thinking, this caused all kinds of problems with my insurance coverage, and in addition to not being able to get refills with any regular schedule, the price of the patches increased substantially.

When the artist known as Prince died of an overdose of drugs, one being Fentanyl, I made my decision that I wanted out. Not realizing that the drug is considered to be 100 times stronger than heroin, and even though my doctor had told me that the withdrawal would be as long, slow process, I thought I could go "cold turkey". The date that I began my long journey back to normality is etched in my mind forever: April 11, 2017.

When the effects of not using the patches regularly struck me four days into the process, I went to a horrible place of pain that I have never experienced before. I ended up in the emergency ward, not once, but twice during the first month.

I was given Tramadol, which is also an opiod, but of a much weaker strength. The entire month of April is mostly a blur, although I do remember small rallies from time to time. I found that driving my car was out of the question, as I attempted it once early in May and it scared me so badly to be in traffic behind the wheel of what seemed to me to be this huge vehicle, that I didn't start driving again until months later.

It took a little over a month to get the drug out of my system and in that period I lost 22 pounds. I knew I was finally through the initial phase when the reduced dosage of one half a Tramadol made me instantly sick.

Once I was at that point, food tasted better than it ever had. I had always been a craver of sweets after a meal, but at this point anything with sugar I found to be totally unappetizing. There was a short period of feeling like I was going to be through with the hell.

Then the next phase began in earnest. I would have a day or two when I felt that I was operating at 60 to 75% full health, then I would suddenly plunge into two weeks of exactly the same symptoms I went through in the original withdrawal. I found I was battling on two fronts: the purely physical and in addition, the mental.

I came to realize that stress was my biggest enemy and also if I tried to do too much on any given day, I would suffer for it. It is very difficult for me personally to not stress out, so there were many days when I was certain that I still had not gotten "clean" of the drug itself.

I began to do extensive reading on the subject of "PAWS" . . . Post Acute Withdrawal Syndrome, and the facts that I found were another set back. At first the articles that I read led me to believe that within a few months the back and forth between feeling pretty normal to once again descending into the hell of pain would ease up, but the more I read the more I began to realize that the longer a person had used, the longer it would take to break through entirely. In my case, because I had used so long, I was led to believe that it could take up to three years before my life would return to normal, and in some cases, people find that even when they might feel good for months at a time, they will inevitably have recurring episodes.

I began seeing a behavioral therapist as often as I could and quickly learned just how many of us are really in deep trouble as my appointments were at least a month apart. I cannot say enough good things about the young woman to whom I was assigned. I could tell that she really cared about my well being and was a very good communicator.

Another aspect of recovery that I found very alarming is that at times, for no apparent reason, everything and everyone would make me lash out in unsubstantiated anger and my wife, Kim, who is my true shelter in the storm of life, would suddenly be confronted by this unruly, continually upset man who would say things that even he couldn't believe he was saying. I am now in my sixth month of recovery and for the first time, the "up" days are beginning to outnumber the "down" days and there is a direct correlation to the amount of stress and the amount of overextending myself that will put me in the "down" days. My personality is such that all of my life I have been going 90 miles an hour
or near nonfunctioning at all, so it is a continual challenge to find my parameters, to know when to say yes, when to say no.

I am back to performing my music again, which has always been great therapy for my soul, and to supplement my meager Social Security checks, I am a "car jockey" for the regional Toyota dealership, driving a new vehicle of a wanted color or style to a different dealership, and then returning in a vehicle that is needed at the regional dealership.

There are times when I still have difficulty with self-loathing issues, when I turn the anger on myself, but I have an amazing life partner who helps me immeasurably at those times. I know that I am far from being totally "out of the woods", but my life is better than ever before and I feel that this experience has made me into a better person.

I can tell you this with complete certainty. I will never use an addictive pharmaceutical again I read and hear of people who were users, got clean, then returned to using; to me, that is total insanity. I don't ever want to go through what I have gone through and am still recovering from, ever again. I wouldn't wish that descent into Hell on anyone.

At a point in my recovery when I thought I would never make it, our dear friend Sarah gave me a card that is still displayed prominently where I can see it every morning: It simply says: "When you are going through hell, keep going." I shall.

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