Recoded: An Addict's Story

By Gary Scheffler

Seventy five percent of drug addict will relapse within the first year of completing an in-patient drug treatment program.
In 2017, drug overdose was the single greatest cause of injury-related death in the United States and seventy thousand Americans died from it.

These statistics are personal to me. I was a homeless drug addict in the year 2010. I lost my job, home, family and friends. My goal is to share my direct experience as a recovering addict to help people understand the human lives behind these statistics.

If you've ever believed you were hopeless, unworthy, or beyond help; if you've ever betrayed a friend, lived in your car, or lied to your parents about why you were fired from your job; if you've ever wondered if you'll make it through the next year, the next month, or the next day; if you've ever felt paralyzed by fear or remorse, know that this book is addressed directly to you. Know that it is not too late to be a better person. My story is proof.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098335946

Book preview

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 9781098335946

Dedicated to the friends, family, teammates, and fellow addicts who work so hard to lift me up, and to the sons, cousins, nephews, aunts, daughters, nieces, colleagues, students, parents, grandparents, mentors, and friends who we lost along the way

CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter One: Out of Time

Chapter Two: Growing Up

Chapter Three: Out on the Field

Chapter Four: Running Behind

Chapter Five: The Slip

Chapter Six: The Fall

Chapter Seven: The Bottom

Chapter Eight: Fear is a Liar

Chapter Nine: Mentors

Chapter Ten: Back Outside

Chapter Eleven: Success

Kayla’s Virtue Project

INTRODUCTION

If someone told you that you had a seventy-five percent chance of dying when you walked out the house, you probably would not leave your home. Yet, these are the odds that a drug addict will relapse within the first year of completing an in-patient drug treatment program.

Such a person would already be part of a select group, and probably lucky to be alive. In 2017, drug overdose was the single greatest cause of injury-related death in the United States. Seventy thousand Americans died from an overdose, two-thirds of whom had used heroin and other opiates. Even users who survived an overdose could expect an uphill climb. Of the six thousand seven hundred people admitted to emergency rooms for substance abuse each day, only ten percent will receive any kind of counseling or therapy, and from those who actually make it through treatment at an in-patient facility, only about twenty-five percent will manage to stay sober. Since 2016, despite all sorts of efforts by the government and non-profit sector to address what everyone agrees is a national crisis, the rate of opioid overdose has increased by seventy percent. As of this writing, it is estimated that thirty percent of those who are prescribed opioid analgesics end up misusing them, twelve percent will develop an addiction, and six percent will eventually use heroin.

This issue is extremely personal for me. In speaking at schools and at treatment centers around my home state of Louisiana, and in writing this book, one of my goals has been to share my direct experience as a recovering addict to help people understand the human lives behind these statistics. Even more importantly, I hope to make fellow addicts understand that they are not alone.

By revisiting some moments that, frankly, I am amazed I survived, I am also showing how others can survive, too. If you’ve ever believed you were hopeless, unworthy, or beyond help; if you’ve ever betrayed a friend, lived in your car, or lied to your parents about why you were fired from your job; if you’ve ever wondered if you’ll make it through the next year, the next month, or the next day; if you’ve ever felt paralyzed by fear or remorse, know that this book is addressed directly to you. Know that it is not too late to be a better person. My story is proof.

CHAPTER ONE: OUT OF TIME

From a distance, the West Jefferson Medical Center looks like an old-fashioned resort. Built in a middle-class neighborhood near downtown New Orleans, the hospital sits just a few blocks from the water, on a small hill with a lush garden full of yellow petunias, white snapdragons, and blue pansies. Inside, the building’s atrium windows are cut in a diamond-shaped pattern, which shimmer like jewels on rainy days. West Jefferson was one of the main trauma centers that stayed open after Hurricane Katrina, and after the Deepwater Horizon disaster, it was where many oil spill workers were sent to recover. As hospitals go, it is a pretty uplifting building to look at, and not a bad place to seek care.

On December 2, 2010, I found myself on the steps in front of West Jefferson, feeling overwhelmed with loneliness and despair. I had been divorced for about a year but separated for much longer. While I was not exactly homeless, I had spent the past few months sleeping in my car or on friends’ couches, carrying most of what I owned in a loose duffel bag. In the summer and fall, the hospital was a reliable spot where I could escape the heat, since the lobby was almost always busy and full of people, making it easy in which to blend. The waiting room had comfortable benches where I could rest for a few hours, and most of the time, I probably looked like someone visiting a sick friend. No one asked me if I was in trouble or needed help.

Just as the sun was setting, I walked outside and picked up my phone. I remember feeling chilly—in the weeks after Thanksgiving, there is often a cool breeze running from the Gulf to Lake Pontchartrain—but my shivering could also have been an early symptom of opioid withdrawal, when addicts suffer from muscle pain, anxiety, and stomach cramps, along with an increased sensitivity to cold weather. I knew what I was doing was unhealthy, but I also knew that a couple more pills would be all I needed to clear my head. Although I’d lost much of the trust of my family and friends, I also knew how great it would feel to earn some of that trust back, to land a steady job, to repay my debts, and to take back control of my life. With the right plan, I was sure that I could gradually wean myself off painkillers, without relying on anyone else, and without the ordeals of detox or rehab.

Of course, I had made this kind of plan before. Every few months, I would miss an appointment, forget someone’s birthday, or take four Soma pills and fall asleep during a family dinner, and would have to apologize to the people I had embarrassed or let down. I would resolve to do better, but even as a functional addict, opioids