JAILED MOM NOT SURE SHE'S READY FOR LIFE WITHOUT METH

She had errands to run, a house to clean, a teenage son to look after
and a baby girl to raise.

Life, more often than not, overwhelmed her.

But Tammy Howard thought she had smoked her way to a solution.

Sitting in a sterile conference room, picking at imaginary lint on
her prison-issued uniform, she talked about the methamphetamine she
called "every woman's dream."

"It really, really did it for me," Howard said. "There's nothing else
like it. I could mow the grass, mow my neighbor's grass, probably
their neighbor's grass and the grass up and down the street.

"And I'd still have energy left over to take care of my kids, clean
my house, cook a meal, work my job and have some fun.

"To be able to get everything done and still have a little left over
for yourself? Who wouldn't want that?"

In 15 years of meth use, she never felt the worst of what the drug
offers, she said.

She didn't suffer the infected sores caused by "meth bugs," the
itches and twitches under the skin that cannot be satisfied.

She never went days without sleep. She never experienced the dramatic
weight loss that is so common because the drug makes food seem unnecessary.

And she kept her teeth. Often, the chemicals in the drug strip the
enamel and cause rot and infection in the gums.

She counts herself among the lucky.

But while the 40-year-old's physical health might be intact, the
home-brewed drug she smoked sometimes two or three times a day
destroyed everything else.

Her 21-year-old son, with whom she did drugs, already has been to
jail. Her 6-year-old adopted daughter now lives with Howard's mother.
The bank took back the three-bedroom ranch home she owned in
Fairborn, and her car is gone. So, too, is the shipping manager's job
she held for 13 years at a Beavercreek factory.

Her "friends" have moved on.

She doesn't know exactly what she'll do when she is released from the
Franklin Pre-Release Center in Columbus. She's confident she'll start
a new life.

The extent of her drug abuse, however, predicts an uphill battle.

She last smoked meth on her way to begin serving her prison sentence.
"On my way to the courthouse and jail," she said.

Once inside, she slept for almost six days straight.

"They had to wake me up to feed me," she said. "I guess I was coming down."

Treatment experts say that's exactly what she was doing. And while
they say Howard and others like her can break the habit, they'll
likely never live completely normal lives.

Meth produces a strong, instant rush by flooding the brain's pleasure
center with dopamine, a neurotransmitter. That high can last six
times as long as a crack-cocaine buzz.

It immediately elevates body temperature, heart rate and blood
pressure and increases the energy level while decreasing appetite.
Over time, doctors say, meth permanently damages the brain and vital organs.

Eventually, the body craves that artificial release at the expense of
anything else that used to give pleasure.

"On a hot sweaty day, a cold drink of water used to feel good. Now
it's nothing because your body can't find anything as good or as
satisfying as meth," said Dr. Alvin Pelt, medical director at
Maryhaven, central Ohio's oldest behavorial health-care system,
specializing in addiction.

Howard said her meth use eventually escalated. When police searched
her home in July 2004, they found a bag of a common cold medicine
used in meth production, at least 20 packages, stuffed in the medicine cabinet.

She began serving her one-year sentence for illegal possession of
chemicals in September.

The hardest thing, she said, was telling her young daughter goodbye.
At first, Howard's mother brought the girl to the prison. But the
visits proved too hard on everyone. Now, they exchange letters twice
a week. Howard said that given the chance for early release she'll
likely pass it up. "I'm gonna wait until I can get it together," she
said. "Somehow." She sits in silence. "Yeah," she says finally, "I'll
go home. Somehow."