AN ADDICT SPEAKS OUT

Clinic offers a new life: As controversy rages over the location of a
methadone facility by a seniors residence on Somerset Street, Ross Holder
tells reporter Shannon Proudfoot the treatment he's receiving there is
helping him to slowly return to a 'boring' lifestyle -- and soon he'll be
out of the woods.

Ross Holder is articulate, philosophical and witty. His fair skin,
smattering of freckles and the backwards baseball cap that tops his reddish
hair make him look younger than his 33 years.

More than once, he mentions his late grandmother in conversation. She once
predicted he would have troubles in his life because of his compulsion to
experience things for himself instead of taking the word of others.

She was right.

Mr. Holder is receiving treatment for an opiate addiction at the methadone
clinic on Somerset Street, which opened to howls of neighbourhood protest
last month. The computer programmer hopes telling his story will eliminate
the ignorance that caused such a reaction and prevent what he sees as a
crucial service from being relocated, or worse, shut down.

"I realize that there are a lot of people who suffer from illnesses related
to addiction and are not willing to speak out because of the stigma, the
stereotypes and the prejudice," Mr. Holder says.

"I guess I'm taking a bit of a risk maybe, but it's one that someone has
to."

A year ago, he became addicted to Oxycontin and Dilaudids -- pharmaceutical
pills that make their way to the black market and produce a "rush of energy"
when dissolved and injected.

Ironically, Mr. Holder first tried the drugs in an attempt to understand the
addiction a close friend was battling, but he quickly traversed the slippery
slope to chemical dependence after one or two weeks of consistent use.

Even when he found his own ability to resist the drugs faltering, he still
thought he could save his friend.

"I thought by beating the addiction myself, I could show him the door," he
says.

Mr. Holder considers himself "a very strong-willed individual," so when he
found himself spending $60 to $120 a day on his habit, he resolved to stop.

Twice, he tried to quit on his own and was successful for a few days before
relapsing. The decision to quit cold turkey guarantees "horribly, horribly
unpleasant" physical withdrawal symptoms that include vomiting, diarrhea,
convulsions and sweating, he says.

"If one can do it another way, through the methadone clinic, it's infinitely
preferable and it makes it that much easier and more likely that someone is
going to try to quit," he says.

Four months ago, Mr. Holder began treatment at a methadone clinic in
Kingston, forced to travel there weekly for checkups and prescription
refills because waiting lists for the clinics in Ottawa at the time were
eight to 10 months.

Mr. Holder lost his job while undergoing treatment, though he was never able
to prove it was because of his frequent medical appointments. The weekly
pilgrimages to Kingston exhausted his financial resources as well, but he
had no other options to beat the addiction -- until a space became available
when the new clinic opened on Somerset Street.

Methadone clinics stringently monitor patients with urine screening and
checkups, before providing prescriptions for methadone drinks that are
consumed every 24 hours. Mr. Holder makes a "blech" face, and explains that
the drinks taste like bad cough syrup, but they stave off the devastating
effects of withdrawal and make quitting more likely.

Now, Mr. Holder has been completely clean for more than three months, aided
by methadone doses that decrease with every week of treatment. He is eager
to complete the program as soon as possible, but has heeded his doctor's
warning that success is more likely with very gradual weaning, so he will
continue the treatment for another 10 to 12 months.

Still, Mr. Holder bears one consequence of his addiction that will never be
beaten -- two months ago, he tested positive for hepatitis C.

He says he was always scrupulous about using clean needles, but one night
while shooting up with his addicted friend and the friend's mother, he
accidentally shared a dirty needle. His friend has tested positive for the
disease as well, and Mr. Holder can't be sure, but he thinks it was his
friend's mother who infected them.

For now, his health is good and will hopefully remain that way. He is doing
contract work, hoping to return to full-time employment soon, and he has
simple hopes that his life will return to "boring" when he gets through the
treatment.

"I guess I'm not totally out of the woods yet, but I will be. And I've never
doubted it," he says.