DOGHOUSE DOC

Dr. Brendan Adams Urges Admission, Recognition and Prevention to Stem
the Rise of Drug and Alcohol Abuse in the Workplace

When Dr. Brendan Adams talks about cocaine abuse, he leaves no doubt
about its effects. "At first it's extremely pleasurable. You go up
like a rocket. But crashing off the high is extremely painful. You
plunge and feel awful." He adds with a piercing look, "which is why
people normally abuse a witch's brew of drugs."

Adams has been fascinated by the effects of psychoactive drugs ranging
from sedatives such as sleeping pills to hard drugs such as crack
cocaine ever since he studied human physiology at the University of
Toronto. As a trained pilot he is acutely aware of the dangers posed
by any mind-altering substance on a person's ability to control a
speeding cylinder of flying metal.

Three years ago, Syncrude invited Adams to present on the subject of
impairment in the workplace at its 2004 Safety Stand Down event. Since
then, the doctor has become one of the most sought-after speakers in
town. He has made presentations to Suncor, BJ Services, Precision
Drilling, Petro-Canada, Penn West Energy Trust and has a keynote
speaker for the Petroleum Services Association of Canada at its annual
spring safety seminar.

He is in demand for two reasons: first, because alcohol and drug abuse
is a growing problem associated with Alberta's economic boom, and
second because his manner is so persuasive and his message so compelling.

Staff Sergeant Ian Sanderson, northwest region coordinator for the
Drugs and Organized Crime Awareness Service in Edmonton, often
co-presents with Adams. "He has a great gift," says Sanderson. "It's
his ability to talk about the issue and make it understandable to lay
people. He's very technical. He's very passionate."

Ron Beach, a prevention consultant with the Alberta Alcohol and Drug
Abuse Commission, has spoken at the podium with both Adams and
Sanderson. The three find their presentations increasingly in demand.

"I can tell you that there's a perception that drug abuse is a serious
problem," says Beach. "With greater affluence, there's greater abuse."
All three were instrumental in the creation last year of the Drug and
Alcohol Council for Safe Alberta Workplaces.

Adams' message can come as a revelation to employers: "Think
upstream," he counsels. What he means is find ways to help employees
avoid the temptation of resorting to alcohol and drug abuse. Beach
explains: "He tells people: 'You're pulling people out of the river
all the time. Eventually, you have to go upstream and ask: What could
we do to prevent this from happeningUKP'"

In Alberta, substance abuse is becoming increasingly problematic, not
just among oilfield workers but all the way up the responsibility
ladder. "Addiction is no respecter of socio-economic status," warns
Adams.

The latest Federal Canadian Addiction Survey shows that between 1994
and 2004, marijuana use doubled and cocaine and amphetamine use
tripled. "We're talking about 20,000-plus Alberta workers that use
drugs on the job," says Sanderson. The problem is growing at all
levels of society. "It's quite clear if you look at the data, the use
of drugs knows no demographic bounds. I'm reminded of an addict I
interviewed in Vancouver. The issue was methamphetamine. He said to
me: 'Do you know how many people driving BMWs and Jaguars drive up to
me and say can I score a hitUKP'"

The problem is so worrisome that on the eve of the Calgary Stampede -
a week when excessive drinking and partying become the social norm -
Dr. Jim Buckee, the CEO of Talisman Energy, circulated an e-mail
message informing staff of a policy of random drug and alcohol
testing, and warning of the consequences for anyone found to be over
the limit. "By far, alcohol is the biggest drug being abused in the
workplace," says Sanderson. However, cocaine use is becoming more prevalent.

Cocaine is both seductive and deceptive. And that is the problem, says
Adams: "Familiarity breeds contempt. Two weeks after cocaine withdrawal,
you're walking okay, you're talking okay, but it can take up to three
months before the dopamine regenerates in your system." Calgary too is no
stranger to all-night cocaine parties. When it comes to drugs like
methamphetamines or ecstasy, "The perception is it's just a pill. It's
sexy, it's safe," says Sanderson.

Cocaine users often get equally hooked on sedatives. Adams noted:
"It's unusual to see somebody come through my office who is only a
cocaine addict. They have become dopamine junkies." He is referring to
the body's craving to continually recreate the dopamine high.

One of the seductions of cocaine is the perception that it increases
one's creativity. That is "a huge myth." What it does do, says the
doctor, is cause one to lose one's inhibitions. "Shy people love it,"
he says, adding, "It is illusory." Too soon the drug takes control. It
can lead to chronic sleep problems, depression, appetite suppression,
and impaired judgment. "As they say in AA, now I am a slave to the
drug. It becomes a relentless downward spiral."

"It's a time bomb waiting to go off," says Sanderson. He and his
colleagues on the police force have seen cocaine grow increasingly
available and affordable. Cocaine production in South America has gone
up eight per cent in the past year, he says, and the fact that it is
arriving at Alberta airstrips on private aircraft makes it difficult
to police. In May, the RCMP informed aircraft owners at Springbank
Airport that they recently made two arrests of private pilots who were
discovered running drugs across the border.

"We've seen the price come down to between $80 and $100 per gram,"
said Sanderson. For the casual user who can make a gram of cocaine
last a week, the price may be affordable. "For a serious user however,
that might be enough to last only a day," says Sanderson. There is an
added danger, he warned: "You never know what you're getting. You
don't know what the adulterants are."

Often people drink or abuse drugs under the assumption "that it will
clear my system in time to get back to work," says Beach. "But our
bodies don't just flip on and off like a light switch."

Worried managers and safety supervisors who seek Adams' advice often
ask: Should we implement a drug testing policy? Yes, says Adams.
Testing is a useful tool. He cautions, however, "It isn't going to fix
the problem by itself."

Beach concurs: "Rather than invest in more drug testing, we're
encouraging employers to think 'upstream.'" He is referring to Adams'
call for more thought to go into prevention.

"There are steps you can take that can provide protective factors,"
says Beach. They include providing a healthy workplace by supporting
membership at a gym, for example, and allowing employees to work
flexible hours.

In addition, Sanderson urges employers to take the stigma out of
admitting to the problem. The message in the workplace should be
"seeking help is not a bad thing," he says, "that there are ways to
come forward and seek help without the fear of losing one's job."

On the day we visit Adams at his clinic in a small building at
Springbank Airport, he is just taking leave of a film crew there to
tape him making a presentation for an Enform safety video. He ushers
us up to a small lounge with a bar on the second floor of the clinic
which he explains was built by a Greek restaurateur. It is a place
where one can enjoy a cold drink while gazing across runways and
fields at the snow-covered Rockies.

Adams, however, gives the impression of having too much energy and
drive to spend time enjoying the view. Fit-looking, prematurely grey,
and wearing an earring in one ear, he appears ready to spring off the
bar stool.

We learn that he grew up in Toronto and that his mother was a fashion
editor for Maclean's Magazine. While attending the University of
Toronto, he decided to take up flying. While completing his master's
degree under the tutelage of Ken Money, who trained as Canada's first
astronaut, Adams became fascinated by human physiology and by the
effects of "psycho-active" drugs on mind and body. He has written and
lectured extensively on the topic.

We also learn that Adams has little time for liberal ideologues who
oppose drug testing. "People that violently oppose it on human rights
grounds are out to lunch," he says heatedly.

Adams may have little patience for those with misplaced liberal
ideals, but he has a great deal of time available for individuals
trying to pry loose the cruel claws of addiction. "Sixty-six percent
of alcoholism is genetic," he says. "Addiction is a neuro-biological
disease."

Those who are fortunate enough to have been born without the
predisposition can never truly understand the craving that drives an
alcoholic or a drug addict, he explains. "A genetic predisposition
seems to be the single most important factor in addiction. If you
(someone without the genetic tendency) tried to become an alcoholic
you couldn't."

Ignoring the signs of addiction in a co-worker or friend is tantamount
to witnessing an accident and doing nothing to help, he says. "These
are folks who have a disease. Typically, they don't know it or don't
admit it. It's as if I saw a large black spot on your back where you
can't see it and didn't tell you about it. By helping them cover it
up, you're helping them to die."

In the macho world of the oilfield, reaching out to a co-worker means
stepping into uncomfortable territory. "In the oil industry there is a
long and grand tradition of hiding people who are sick," says Adams.
He points out that there is a difference between covering up abuse by
an office worker or company CEO and in ignoring signs of abuse in a
gas plant operator or rig worker.

"If you are a manager or a vice president, your co-dependent secretary
locks the door and hides you for the rest of the day. One mistake on a
rig, and you could kill 20 people," says Adams. "Ultimately we have to
firmly and compassionately get someone into treatment."

The commitment of employers is key to making the "upstream" approach work,
adds Beach: "Their experience is crucial and their participation is pivotal."

After Adams ends his presentation and steps down from the podium,
members of the audience often eagerly approach him for more
information. Standing a little apart from the crowd, though, may be
someone he recognizes - not because the doctor has met the person
before, but because he knows the individual's story. "The person will
hang back and then will come up and say, 'I've got five years.' Or
they will say, 'My birthday is five years.'" Instantly, Adams
understands the code words: They mean "I have been free of my
addiction for five years."

The individual's family may have left him and he may have sold or
pawned all that he once considered valuable. "Most have lost
everything," says Adams. Even so, "They will tell me how fortunate
they are. The same person, sometimes tearfully, will tell me that
their mother or father didn't get that chance."

The individuals Adams admires most are those who have wrestled free
from the chains of their addiction. "The people who've made it out -
My God, what courage."