By Michael Stein
The Addict opens a window at the very inner most global of prescription drug habit, revealing the harrowing and riveting tale of a tender girl whose existence has been taken over through an impulse that she cannot regulate and a necessity that she cannot extinguish. Lucy's first appointment with Dr. Michael Stein used to be on a sunny day in April, and the minute she sat down she acknowledged, "I'm right here to your program," starting a chain of intimate encounters in the course of the process a yr that took her again to the origins of her habit and unraveled a existence pushed by means of compulsion and the consistent pursuit of the following capsule. The Addict follows Lucy from the beginning of her therapy, via relapse, to her eventual long term restoration, together with her breakup with a damaging boyfriend whose personal habit to medicines passed hers. this can be an unforgettable story of a tender girl dwelling at the facet yet made up our minds to take keep an eye on of her lifestyles. the following is also the deeply own account of a physician at the entrance strains of a plague. during this masterful paintings, Michael Stein brings in different sufferers whose stories are like Lucy's yet in lots of methods are totally different. Dr. Stein explains what medical professionals are pondering and feeling approximately habit, and the way they make tricky judgements with tough sufferers. He additionally goals to alter the best way we predict approximately habit, arguing that it's going to be handled as we deal with diabetes or excessive blood pressure—as a sickness in the scientific method. This affecting and thought-provoking publication will resonate with somebody being affected by chemical dependence. within the Addict, Dr. Stein creates a portrait of the intimate bond among one sufferer and one physician, a dating that's profoundly relocating and highly compelling.
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Extra info for The Addict: One Patient, One Doctor, One Year
He looked around, but not casually, telling me that the emergency room he’d visited said he hadn’t broken anything. ” If he’d been sitting, I would have described his behavior as squirming. He kept talking, barely giving me a chance to interrupt or even slow him down, and he didn’t appear to be in terrible pain—no doubling over, no temple rubbing, no grimacing. He was nervous and impatient. He wanted relief, but it wasn’t exactly clear 40 Friday, April 18 what the problem was. He didn’t appear emaciated or brittle or weak.
From this vantage, there are telephone 30 Wednesday, April 16 lines everywhere, crowded as needlepoint, nearly obstructing the view, carrying X-ray images and calls to loved ones far away, and digitized blood test results and wirebound viruses. Encircling the hospital property two blocks away, a fallen neighborhood— abandoned gas stations, vacant lots, small businesses, liquor stores, pawnshops, Dominican churches, and brightly neoned fast-food outlets, set among shabby retail establishments (paints, car batteries for sale), with windows so dirty it was difﬁcult to tell if commerce continues there.
Even if I refused his Percocet request, I was stuck with him for now, unless he bolted, frustrated and miserable, or swung at me. There was a way out for him, but not for me. In this way he had a certain power over me. The need to deliver him from dishonesty, to have Dan admit that his pain had nothing to do with a car accident six months before, suddenly seemed important. I made a decision: I would not stand up. I did not need to match him in this way. I had all the power. He needed my prescription.