Too middle class to be hooked on painkillers?

Janice was a middle-aged, middle-class housewife and i was surprised when she walked through the door at the drug dependency unit where i was working. She certainly didn’t look like one of my usual patients.

at first, she didn’t like to talk about her addiction. instead, she referred to it as her ‘silliness’. For several years she’d been taking increasing amounts of over-the-counter painkillers after a nasty fall left her with back pain and was now consuming around six packets a day. The painkillers contained codeine, a mild opiate.

Because she was buying so many, and with such regularity, her local pharmacy had become suspicious, so she’d developed an elaborate journey each morning via different pharmacies to obtain enough tablets to see her through the day.

Her husband was a high-flying city lawyer, and as soon as he left for work each morning she would set out on her mission. She’d realised that if she visited the same pharmacy more than once in a week, they would refuse to sell her the tablets — so she’d worked out an itinerary for each day of the week using pharmacies that were grouped together by location so she didn’t have to travel unreasonable distances.

She managed to fit this around her other commitments, so that, for example, on a Monday when she volunteered in a charity shop, the pharmacies were all nearby.

AS a piece of organisational planning, it was mind-blowing in its rigour. ‘ Sundays used to be tricky, but i managed to combine getting the tablets with the weekly shop as all the supermarkets stock them,’ she told me.

‘it means i can get some great bargains, too, as i have to go to three supermarkets and they all reduce different things. My husband is over the moon.’

He was also blissfully unaware of the extent of her ‘silliness’.

‘He’s hardly ever at home, but i do have to be careful about the packaging. i throw them all in a bin in the park, although i know i should recycle them really,’ she said, with a wince.

When i worked out how much codeine was in each tablet, and the number she took each day, i was horrified to realise she was actually taking so much opiate it was the equivalent of using several bags of heroin a day. (Most heroin addicts use one bag a day.) ‘But i’m not an addict,’ she would frequently tell me — and i often wondered if it was me she was trying to convince, or herself.

‘i mean, i can’t be an addict. i pay my taxes and listen to Radio 4 for goodness’ sake.’

Janice’s story is far from unique. Over the time i worked in drug services, i saw many other people like her whose lives were destroyed by addiction to over- the - counter painkillers. and the situ- ation is getting worse. new figures show addiction to such medication has risen by 17 per cent in just two years.

UK addiction Treatment, which has centres across the country, predicts that a dependency on over- the- counter painkillers will soon overtake heroin and alcohol addiction.

and it warns that many people don’t realise they’re addicts because the drugs are both legal and easily available.

as well as the addiction itself, which dominates people’s lives, there is the risk of a fatal overdose. One of the problems i’ve noticed is that doctors and nurses often don’t realise there’s a problem.

and as the Mail has highlighted in its campaign on prescription pill addiction, treatment for those dependent on legal medications is woefully inadequate, with no dedicated services to help them outside of regular drugs services.

and these services focus on illegal drugs such as heroin and crack cocaine, with little understanding in how to deal with overthe-counter painkiller addiction. another issue is that, unlike those addicted to illegal drugs or alcohol, many of these patients manage to juggle their addiction alongside their job.

They tend not to be on benefits and are not getting arrested, so there’s little political will to intervene and help them.

Meeting Janice was a salutary lesson for me in understanding that addiction can afflict anyone, from any walk of life.

it also taught me that just because a drug comes in a packet that you buy over-the-counter in the High Street, rather than wrapped in clingfilm from a man in a hoodie down a dark alley, it doesn’t mean that it can’t be dangerous or addictive.

at the moment, drug services are letting this group of patients down. The nHS owes them proper care and treatment.