The Dangerous Panic Over Painkillers
Continued from previous page
Nonetheless, the media continue to love them some “innocent victims”—and the real story of not-so-blameless drug users who move from heavy drinking, cocaine use and marijuana smoking to prescription drug abuse is just not as compelling. This, sadly, only contributes to the delusion that anyone who is treated for chronic pain with opioids is at risk for drowning in the—gasp!—ubiquitous riptide of addiction.
The panic leads to policies that require pain patients to be urine-tested, to be called in to their doctors’ offices for random “pill counts” and to make frequent visits—all of which is not only humiliating but expensive and time-consuming. There’s little evidence that such policing prevents addiction or does anything else beyond inconveniencing and stigmatizing pain patients.
And indeed, the stigma of addiction is what’s behind the curtain here. Imagine suffering from incurable daily pain so severe that it feels like your legs are being dipped in molten iron or your spine is being scraped out by sharp talons. Even if you did, in a worst-case scenario, join the tiny percentage of patients who develop a new addiction and became obsessed with using opioids, would this really be worse, especially if you had safe and legal access to them?
Most of the physical and psychological horrors of addiction come with loss of control and with being unable to be present for family, work and friends. But pain can produce even greater dysfunction and emotional distance, and its ability to destroy relationships is at least as monstrous. Moreover, maintenance on opioids can typically stabilize people with addictions, without numbing or incapacitating them. So why do we panic?
In the absence of true pharmaceutical innovation (Zohydro and other "superdrugs" are mere purer versions of VIcodin without the acetaminophen ), opioids remain the only medications that can even begin to touch severe pain, though they are far from perfect. But since they rarely lead to addiction—and since addiction (or opioid maintenance treatment) may actually sometimes be the lesser of evils—does it really make sense to restrict and even deny their benefits to pain patients?
When the situation is considered rationally, our outsized fear of addiction has little to do with the reality of chronic pain. Instead, it’s about the way we see addicts: gun-toting robbers of Oxy from pharmacies and other scummy, lying, sociopathic criminals—people we don’t want to be around or become.
Even though readers of this site know that drugs don’t somehow “make” ordinary people into such demonic figures—and that addicts can also be as kind, compassionate and hard-working as anyone else— the stigma runs deep.
Much of it, I think, comes from the same evasion of responsibility that allows us to blame doctors for addictions. After all, it’s not doctors who tell their patients to inject or snort their oral painkillers, to drink while taking opioids, to take more than prescribed or to lie, cheat and steal to obtain them.
These actions are deliberately taken by drug seekers. Doctors don’t “make” anyone make the ongoing choices that lead to impaired self-control. While trauma histories, psychiatric disorders like depression and/or genetics do make some of us more vulnerable to taking this path, no one can force us to do it. And if we see doctors—or, for that matter, dealers—as having “caused” our addictions, we open ourselves up to be dehumanized and stigmatized.
That is because if we are seen as incapable of making good choices, how can we expect respect for our desires and preferences? If we can’t control ourselves, why shouldn’t we be incarcerated to protect others from our actions? After all, when the public sees us as mindless zombies, their response is not sympathy for our supposed powerlessness but fear and disgust at our imagined violence.