Survivors’ stories
Supervised drug sites remain controversial in Canada. Many politicians remain wary of helping people do illegal drugs and Alberta, in particular, may be getting cold feet. But the people who use sites there describe them as a second chance
Often lost in the debate over supervised drug sites are the voices of people who rely on them.
They’re a sanctuary.
They’re a scar.
They’re saving lives.
They’re ruining communities.
The measure of a supervised consumption site can depend on whom you ask.
It’s been 17 years since Canada got its first site, a controversial spot in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside known as Insite — but the debate rages on.
Last March, the Ontario government said it would only approve15 sites, throwing some already operating into limbo. Now, Alberta may be getting cold feet. Premier Jason Kenney told reporters last month that some sites may be closed or moved in the wake of a report about their effects on neighbourhoods.
The voices less heard in the debate are inevitably those of the users.
The Star spoke to five people who say supervised consumption sites saved their lives.
In the basement of her home in downtown Edmonton, Jade Harris keeps a heavy, grey toolbox, fastened with lock and key, tucked under her couch. Inside are needles, tourniquets, alcohol prep pads and other supplies for injecting drugs.
She pulls out a small bottle of sterile water, which she estimates to be about nine years old. It’s used for cooking opioids into an injectable liquid.
“They don’t make these anymore, it’s like an artifact now,” she says, explaining that the new ones are single-use to prevent sharing and the spread of diseases.
To her, it’s a symbol of how harm reduction has gained more acceptance, and how long she’s used opioids — and survived.
She’s alarmed to hear the provincial government is considering moving or closing supervised consumption sites in Alberta, which she says save lives.
Harris, 26, works as a biller in the health-care industry. She no longer uses opioids recreationally, but did for close to 10 years. She still uses crystal meth occasionally and has been using methadone as a treatment for about five years.
Having lived on the streets of Vancouver in her teens while using heroin, Harris credits supervised consumption sites for connecting her to methadone clinics, addiction treatment services and providing her with safe supplies.
“I definitely would have some kind of communicable disease right now, if they were not a thing when I was young,” Harris said.
Seated next to her is her fiancé, Kodi Rajchevich, wearing a leather jacket affixed with punk band patches and a hat that says “Gutter Born.”
“I feel like I was born in the gutter and now I’m rising up from the gutter,” says Rajchevich, 28.
He says he started using opioid painkillers in his teens. Over the years, he moved on to morphine, oxycontin and hydromorphone.
Rajchevich nurses a 700-millimetre bottle of scotch as he speaks about his struggles with opioids. He’s still an alcoholic, but has quit recreational opioids and is now on methadone treatment.
He’s currently on disability, but was a heavy equipment operator for years. Having been without stable housing on and off for years, he credits safe consumption site wraparound services with connecting him to mental health counselling, acquiring identification and keeping him disease-free.
“Because of these facilities I’m in, I’m seeing the right people that are helping me, because I am a contributing member of society and I’m a level-headed man,” he said. “But I’m also a sick man.”
The couple has actually used supervised consumption sites together, as recently as two months ago, when consuming meth. Harris said it’s not the most romantic setting.
“It’s very impersonal in there,” she said. “You just go in, each go your separate ways, do your stuff, meet up outside.”
One of the most valuable aspects of using at a supervised consumption site is the readiness of information for addiction treatment and the compassion from nurses and staff toward people who use drugs, Harris added.
“Some of these people just need to be asked how they’re doing, you know?” she said.
“You got to keep people alive for one more day so they can decide to get clean on their own.”