PAINKILLERS: A PRESCRIPTION FOR ADDICTION

En route to a Pistons game four years ago, a driver taking me and three
others detoured to a house on Detroit's east side.

The driver walked in and came out with a bottle of white pills --
Vicodin.

I learned later he had a heavy habit. He fed his addiction by getting
painkillers the way millions of Americans get them -- on the street, at
pill houses, by bogus prescriptions, feigned pain, doctor shopping or
some other scam.

Most of them get painkillers for personal use, but some dealers fake
injuries or get the pills from shady health professionals, then sell
their stash.

In metro Detroit, the street value of Vicodin runs $2 to $5 a pill,
about the same as a prescription costs. People hooked on Vicodin may
take six, 10 or even dozens of pills a day. Addicts are starting to show
up at local detox programs.

The problem runs nationwide across cities and suburbs. In 1999, an
estimated 4 million Americans used prescription painkillers for
nonmedical reasons. Emergency room visits involving Vicodin have doubled
in the last six years.

Vicodin is everywhere. Eminem raps about it. Hollywood stars are hooked.
So was Green Bay quarterback Bret Favre.

It's seductive stuff, especially for nonmedical users. About 15 minutes
after a pill is taken, a comforting liquid warmth spreads through the
body. The user feels confident and at peace. All is well.

After a while the user builds a tolerance. That warm buzz isn't as
strong and wanes quickly. The user has to take more to get the same
effect.

Most drug abuse follows a similar pattern. Addicts talk about chasing
the dragon. They're always trying to recapture that first high. But to
do it, they have to take more and more. In fact, they have to take more
just to feel normal.

Vicodin is easy to get because, as a so-called schedule III drug with
lower potential for abuse, prescriptions aren't tracked by the state.

The painkiller problem is growing, but still under the public radar,
says Sgt. Mike Larsen of the Michigan State Police Diversion
Investigation Unit, which investigates health care professionals
suspected of improperly prescribing painkillers.

Charges were levied last month against a Rochester Hills dentist for
prescribing drugs like Vicodin while working with a suspended license.
And an Albion-area physician was arrested last fall for selling Vicodin
prescriptions out of her house -- no questions asked.

Increasingly, the problem includes a far more potent and addictive
painkiller, OxyContin, which is sometimes crushed, cooked and mainlined
like heroin. Because of its high strength, it's monitored as a schedule
II drug, so it's harder to get and can cost $80 or more for a single
tablet.

No doubt, prescription painkillers, used properly, help manage pain and
make people's suffering bearable. But the potential for abuse can be
high.

Early last year, for a story on heroin, I spent five days with a
39-year-old addict going through detox. His road to heroin started with
painkillers. A heating service man, he would rifle through customers'
medicine cabinets to get them. Though different in intensity, he said
the highs with painkillers were similar to heroin.

So are the lows.

When Vicodin abusers stop using, their bodies begin to ache, as though
they were coming down with the flu. Their joints seem to stiffen. The
euphoria gives way to an edgy depression. And the user wants to feel
good again.

Improperly used, painkillers can be a prescription for addiction.

Now and then, I think of that driver coming out of the house, four years
ago, with a bottle of Vicodin. He was smiling then. I wonder how he
feels today.