Matt Mernagh

How I Stopped Pill Popping

Who the hell twisted my arthritic spine into a hideous, agonizing, excruciating knot? Crippled and weeping, I believed that this time it was the 10 count and I was heading for that long-promised wheelchair. My chronic debilitating pain had finally overwhelmed me – or that's what I thought.

Unfortunately, Dr. Jack Kevorkian, possibly the only doctor I could trust, was still imprisoned at Michigan's Thumb Correctional Facility. The Mercitron, his self-created assisted suicide device, probably sat in some police storage locker where it couldn't be used to end my suffering.

Finally I grasped the truth: all this mental and physical torture was "merely" drug withdrawal. I didn't put myself through this junkie sickness with smack or coke, but with prescription medication approved by Health Canada. After three years of crazy pill-popping to ease the pain and depression caused by my bunched-up degenerated discs, I'd decided it was time to discontinue my antidepressant, Effexor XR.

As a sicky, I believed I was an educated consumer when it came to my medication. An excellent dialogue with my doctor and a smattering of knowledge made me aware of the dangers of popping and not popping meds that alter brain chemicals. However, nothing prepared me for the agony of stopping them.

Now that I've done the research, I know the symptoms associated with the discontinuation of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SRRIs) like Remeron RD, Luvox, Zoloft, Effexor, Paxil, Prozac and Celexa, as well as Wellbutrin SR or Zyban. I know the same about serotonin and norepinephrine reuptake inhibitors (SNRIs) like Effexor XR.

In '93, Health Canada (HC) began noting discontinuation symptoms in the drug product monographs (PMs) accessed by physicians. The first to be tagged for these side effects was Paxil. Soon, all SSRIs and SNRIs had withdrawal characteristics listed in their PMs. The government regulator's PMs, which run about 400 pages and are not written in laymen's terms, aren't made available to the public. Says HC spokesperson Catherine Saunders, "The prescribing physician is considered an important source of information for the patient."

If he or she shares, that is. Certainly, it's not easy getting the drug companies to be conversational. Wyeth Pharmaceuticals still hasn't returned my repeated phone calls over a weeklong period.

It's interesting that the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, concerned about "adverse events" associated with stopping these drugs, forced 10 Big Pharma companies to issue "Dear Healthcare Professional" letters (DHPL) in the summer of 2004. HC, though clearly aware of the situation, hasn't gone that route.

The DHPL from Wyeth Pharmaceuticals is the most detailed. "During marketing of Effexor XR and other SNRIs and SSRIs, there have been reports of adverse events occurring upon discontinuation, particularly when abrupt, including the following; dysphoric mood, irritability, agitation, dizziness, sensory disturbances (paresthesias such as electric shock sensations), anxiety, confusion, headaches, lethargy, emotional lability, insomnia, hypomania, tinnitus and seizures."

D'ya think? As my liver flushed three years of toxins, my body checked that symptom list to ensure that I got them all, in mega-doses: deadly back pain, constant stun-gun shocks, endless twitching, How-I-Could-Just-Kill-a-Man anger, suicidal thoughts, ringing ears, muscle rigidity, shortness of breath and panic attacks. Like a junkie craving, raving and demanding his narcotic, I went through such horrors that at times during the 72 hours I was bedridden I considered relenting. Had the nasty pills been in my medicine chest, I most certainly would have downed them.

However, it was during these moments of weakness, confusion and sweating that another side emerged. My dogged determination came from the realization that if these medications were causing me to be this ill, they certainly couldn't be too beneficial. Perhaps serious withdrawal is the body's way of saying, "Don't ever poison me like that again."

I fought bouts of subterranean depression with late-night long-distance phone calls to my friend Nat in Australia. I cuddled Gonzo, a lanky sable ferret, who demonstrated many great sleeping techniques while curled on my chest.

On day four, a few new problems emerged. Waking up to cold, clammy sheets, boxers and T-shirt, I experienced a sensation not unlike what it must feel like to be hit by a stun gun. Some daring grade schoolers demonstrate their bravery by putting their tongues on a 9V battery. It gives a good little jolt. This was more like licking a car battery or being tossed into electrified barbed wire by Cactus Jack or getting blasted by an army field phone battery.

After many weeks of cleansing my system, the sickness continues mildly. The lightning bolts haven't ceased, but the charge, thank god, has dimmed.  

A Just Deserter

After three days of listening to graphic testimony at the refugee hearing of South Dakota war resister Jeremy Hinzman, one observer sitting near me shakily remarks, "If you're not a pacifist after sitting through this then nothing will make you into one." In this harshly lit hearing room on Victoria, a refugee board adjudicator is going to have to rule on a most shocking proposition: whether this former soldier of the U.S. 82nd Airborne ought to be granted asylum because he fears participating in war crimes in Iraq.

Those packing the room - mostly Quakers and other peace types - are busy trying to send subliminal messages to presiding member Brian Goodman through their anti-war buttons and peace quilts.

Round one has already been lost. A technical legal ruling forbids Hinzman's counsel, Jeffry House, from arguing the illegality of the war in Iraq and a soldier's duty not to participate in such a war. House considers the ruling a huge ground for appeal should Hinzman be denied refugee status.

But House has another card up his sleeve - an Ontario Court of Appeal precedent in the case of Fereidoon Zolfagharkhani, who deserted from the Iranian military upon learning that Iran intended to gas Kurds. Zolfagharkani was a paramedic, and it would have been his job to treat Kurdish people who didn't die from the attacks so they could withstand interrogation. He won the right to asylum in Canada, and House hopes a similar logic will work in Hinzman's case.

The point at issue is whether Hinzman, as a member of the 82nd, would have been forced to kill civilians or participate in violations of the Geneva Convention during his tour of duty. So House has entered exhibits of media reports from the Washington Post, Democracy NOW and Human Rights Watch with such titles as U.S. Military Attacks On Population Centers, U.S. Military Attacks On Health Clinics and U.S. Military Attacks On Civilians.

Info relating specifically to the exploits of the 82nd Airborne are easy enough to Google. I did the search myself and found a Human Rights Watch report documenting actions of the 82nd Airborne that resulted in the deaths of seven unarmed civilians.

As that report details, "soldiers from the 82nd Airborne's 3rd Battalion, 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment raided the apartment of Fadhil Hamza Hussain al-Janabi in al-Mahmudiyya on the outskirts of Baghdad after receiving a tip from a local pool hall about 'bad guys' in the neighborhood... Al-Janabi's 19-year-old daughter Farah was killed, as was a neighbor."

Outside reports of the 82nd, Hinzman's case turns on how well he can articulate the growing worries he harbours about becoming a killing machine. During his wife's pregnancy back in South Dakota, Hinzman began to disdain his training, which included chanting, "Trained to kill! Kill we will!" Fatherhood, he says, cemented his belief that, unlike the other soldiers, he couldn't make the grass grow with bright red blood.

Two months after his baby's birth and several months before shipping out to Afghanistan, he filed a very complicated conscientious objector (CO) application. "I didn't feel I could kill. I could have done other jobs in the Army," Hinzman says.

What happened then isn't entirely clear. Somehow, the papers were lost and Hinzman resubmitted his CO application. At this point he was in Afghanistan doing kitchen duty. Then one day while scrubbing pots, he says, superiors pulled him from his duties, brought him in front of a tribunal and quickly denied him CO status.

Upon returning to the U.S., he came to realize his only option was to flee to Canada. He led a hard double life, he says - by day training to deploy to Iraq and by night planning an escape route north.

"We were going to Iraq to jack up terrorists. We were told this was a new kind of war, that these people weren't human and that they were not to be treated in a humane way. We were told by commanders in pep talks that these people are evil."

Needing more specifics on who the army considered evil, presiding member Goodman asks, "Who were they referring to as terrorists?"

Hinzman chillingly replies, "They associate everyone in the area as a terrorist."

"The entire population of Iraq was considered a terrorist?" Goodman asks.

"We referred to Iraqis, Saudis, Kuwaitis, Yemenis, Iranians as terrorist, as they came from the Middle East," comes Hinzman's reply.

Somewhat disbelieving, Goodman asks again, "All Arabs from that region were terrorists?"

"Correct, sir."

Though the war in Iraq isn't on trial, House manages to highlight U.S. soldiers' propensity to kill Iraqi civilians. When he introduces his star witness, Marine Staff Sgt. Jimmy J. Massey, immigration rep Janet Chisholm weakly objects. "He doesn't have a similar position in the Army," she says of Massey, and suggests he couldn't possibly be an expert on the Geneva Convention.

The soft-spoken, bespectacled Massey, who is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder from his tour in Iraq, was not only trained in the Geneva Convention since boot camp but was also assigned to ensure firefights were clean - i.e., carried out according to the army's Standing Operating Procedures and the Geneva Convention.

Within Massey's first 48 hours in Iraq, his platoon of 45 had slaughtered 30 unarmed men, women and children at checkpoints. Marines are trained to set up checkpoints according to a set procedure, but Massey testifies that military fearmongering "was giving us the mindset that every Iraqi was a terrorist."

Now the former Marine even questions whether their procedure for trying to stop a vehicle entering a checkpoint could have been sending the wrong message to approaching Iraqis. As cars moved towards them, a Marine would flash what they believed was the international "Halt" hand symbol, a closed fist in the air. Of course, it is easily mistaken for the internationally recognized brotherhood or solidarity gesture, which is exactly the same.

All this happened in a matter of seconds as the fear of suicide bombers created itchy trigger fingers. "We fired at a cyclic rate. We pulled the trigger and didn't stop," Massey says.

"I witnessed Marines putting rounds into enemy combatants who were expiring. It is not uncommon for a Marine to put rounds in the head of someone playing possum," he says.

Besides trying to establish the realities of soldiering in Iraq, the hearing also puts Hinzman's religious beliefs under the microscope. The war resister and his family attend twice-weekly Quaker gatherings. They are tenders, not members, but Hinzman says that after years of quiet contemplation, he would apply to become a member.

The other question before the refugee board is whether Hinzman is a refugee by reason of a well-founded fear of persecution. To establish this, he would have to show that the U.S. government and its military would persecute him for reasons of political opinion, religion or membership in a social group - namely conscientious objectors to military service in the U.S. Army in Iraq.

All this Goodman will have to weigh to determine if the horrors that he repeatedly heard in gross, exacting detail meet the requirements set out by the Court of Appeal. With written submissions from House and Chisholm not due until the end of January, a ruling probably won't drop until March. Then the world will learn whether Canada considers the actions of the U.S. Army in Iraq to be so dire that conscientious objectors are in need of our protection.







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