The document discusses the author's experience with opioid addiction through patients, friends, and family members. It describes opioid addiction as an exhausting battle that is difficult but worth fighting. The author's friend struggled with heroin addiction for many years, reaching out for help but ultimately losing his battle and committing suicide. This personal experience and loss motivated the author to pursue a career helping those with substance use disorder. Through her various healthcare roles, she has seen both the devastation of addiction but also the transformation possible through treatment and sobriety.

1. Addicted to Opioids: A Battle Worth
Fighting.
by: Tina Dampolo, RN
Afraid - Ashamed -Demons- Hell
Helpless -Hopeless
Sick of living like this!
Tired - Trapped

2. Over the years, I have witnessed innumerable patients, friends and family
members battle their “demons” of opioid addiction. Often, described as “a living
hell!” It is an exhausting journey filled with many winding roads, obstacles and
unfortunately, dead ends for some. Nonetheless, it is worth the fight. After all...
it is a matter of life or death.
Here is some insight about my experiences with heroin addiction and why I have
devoted my career to working with people who are afflicted with substance
abuse disorder: As a teenager, I learned that some friends and acquaintances
were messing around with heroin. It was pretty scary! So many rumors of
sharing needles and people contracting HIV surfaced. Thankfully, I moved out of
state and never got caught up in that mess. Looking back, I often think, Wow!
That could have been me!
In the early 90’s, I was married with a toddler and living in California. We met
this guy through a family member. He was charming, but peculiar. Sometimes, I
felt uneasy when he came around. The look in his eyes creeped me out. Soon
after meeting him, we learned that he used drugs. That explained my uneasy
feeling.
Regardless, my husband and I took a liking to him and gave him a job as a
laborer for our construction company. It provided a sober environment for him.
Over time, things got bad with his drug use and I promised to help him get
sober. I searched the yellow pages and made countless calls to detoxes. I finally
found an open bed. Despite being “afraid”, he agreed to go. He completed detox
and went to live at a halfway house.
Our friend stayed clean for a good stretch of time. Long enough to become the
manager at several sober homes. We thought all was well with him. From time to
time he would stop over and brag about making great money and doing so well.
He looked good, we were convinced and happy for him.
As time passed, his visits became infrequent. However, I would receive desperate
calls from him. He admitted to relapsing and was often difficult to understand
over the phone because he would be crying and rambling. He complained that he
was “sick of living like this!”

3. During one of our phone conversations, he confessed to using heroin. Reporting
that he had met a girl at one of the sober houses and that she “introduced”
him to heroin. His calls came more frequently and eventually, he showed up at
our door. He looked worn out! I noticed that he had lost a substantial amount of
weight, was sickly and disheveled looking. This was out of character for him.
When sober, he was meticulous, well dressed and smelled of cologne. Every hair
on his head was perfectly gelled in place.
I voiced my concerns, but he was helpless. Not in the right state of mind to
listen to me. I sent him to a spare bedroom to sleep for he was noticeably
tired. I insisted he drink lots of water, bringing it to him often. After a few
hours of rest, I took him to the store to buy some new clothing. The clothes he
had on were filthy and smelled rancid. I will never forget...on our way to the
store, he sang along to the song - How It’s Going to Be, by Third Eye Blind. He
was in such a dark place. I could feel his pain.
We returned to my home and he showered and changed into the new clothing. I
threw out what he had been wearing. We joked that his socks were so stiff and
dirty they would walk themselves to the trash.
Sadly, this became a pattern. The hopeless phone calls and visits. Our friend
was withering away, unwilling to follow through and get help. After a run, he
would come by to rest up, only to head back out chasing heroin. He was an
empty vessel, sinking deep. So difficult to witness.
On several occasions, he asked “why do you want to help me? I’m just the dirt
off your shoes!” My heart ached when he said that. I told him that he was our
friend and we just wanted him to get well again. He was grateful for our
support. However, his shoes were stuck in heroin’s cement and he was unable to
break free.
Once, he showed up with bandages on his wrist. He made up some story that he
had punched through glass doors after fighting with his girlfriend. Later, I saw
that his cuts were perfectly straight and confronted him. Reluctantly, he
confessed that he had cut himself intentionally.

4. Reporting that he was too “ashamed” to admit what he had done. He promised
not to do it again. Saying it “was stupid.”
I reached out to his family. His sister was very supportive. However, his
stepfather told me not to waste my time trying to help him along with some
other derogatory things. I couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth. I
informed him that I was not giving up on my friend. I repeatedly, tried to
convince him to get sober. He would gather brief stretches of sobriety but
would relapse. Heroin had a firm grasp on him. He was trapped!
In the late 90’s, our family decided to move back to Massachusetts. We
informed our friend about our plan and he took the news badly. We were “like
family” to him. Soon after, he stopped by and promised to come back to help us
pack up our moving truck. Sadly, moving day came and he was nowhere to be
found. He didn’t answer our calls.
Our family settled back in Massachusetts and we lost contact with our friend.
On occasion, a family member gave us updates, most were not good. In May of
1999, I received a call informing us that our friend had committed suicide by
hanging. We were devastated! Immediately, I wondered if I could have saved
him if we still lived there. Perhaps, he would have called me for help. Our
friend’s battle with heroin addiction and his suicide has left a void in my heart.
To this day, when I hear that song he sang, my heart aches.
Unfortunately, that was not the end of my personal experiences with opioid
addiction. A family member was in deep with heroin. We found little white bags,
spoons, and syringes around the house. There were burn holes in the bedding,
rugs and their clothing. It was too close to home! We had to ask our family
member to move out. It was too unsafe for our family. We pleaded with our
family member to get help but they refused.
Sadly, this family member actually admitted to loving the “hustle” of doing
drugs and “living in the fast lane.” Out of all the people that I have met, I can
count on one hand how many of them shared the love of that hectic lifestyle.
Almost all, maybe a thousand or so, compared their heroin addiction to “a living
hell.”

5. It’s been many years since our family member moved out. Still alive, their drug
of choice shifted to alcohol. Living in different states, we try to keep in touch.
I went to nursing school in 2002 and took my first job at a detox. I really
loved it. I had found my niche.
After several years, I moved on to an inpatient dual diagnosis unit. This is where
I learned the most. The mental illness and stories attached to each patient. Very
heartbreaking, but rewarding to be able to be there for them. I also worked at
a methadone clinic for a few months. There, I had little time to get to know the
clients. Brief interactions with them at the window. However, just a smile, words
of encouragement, or a compliment, went a long way. I could see it on their
faces.
My most recent job was working with patients who were on Suboxone
maintenance. I was their RN Case Manager. This was, by far, the most rewarding
position for me. There, I was able to see a broken person who was caught up in
the throws of opioid addiction, transform their lives, in just a short time. With
much support from our team, they were able to work, go to school and form
meaningful, healthy relationships. They changed for the better and it reflected
on their faces. They had their soul back, their spark. Life! I used to tell my
patients you have a choice to live or exist. None, really wanted to exist.
Sadly, along the way, I lost a few patients to opioid overdoses. There is a void
in my heart for each of them and their loved ones.
I often compare opioid addiction to a hamster on a wheel running around and
around, but never getting anywhere. A monotonous cycle.
It takes a lot of courage to step off that wheel. This is where the journey
begins, accepting that something must change and moving forward with a plan.
No more wasted time chasing heroin, for it robs one of their soul. They say, “one
day at a time.” I say... one second, one minute, one hour... Whatever it takes to
get through the struggle. One foot in front of the other, keep moving forward.
Stop looking back.

6. I have witnessed much despair, pain and sadness. However, I am fortunate to
have been there to support many people as they freed themselves from the
chains of heroin addiction. Transforming their lives through sobriety. A constant,
challenging battle, but worth it.