Pubdate: Sun, 09 Nov 2008
Source: San Francisco Chronicle (CA)
Page: G - 4
Copyright: 2008 Hearst Communications Inc.
Contact:  http://www.sfgate.com/chronicle/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/388
Author: John Diaz
Note: John Diaz is The Chronicle's editorial page editor.
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/meth.htm (Methamphetamine)

CRYSTAL METH: ITS GRIP IS RELENTLESS

One by one, the clients at the 28-day rehab facility  introduced 
themselves and their addictions, the way  participants in another 
group venue might identify  their alma maters or employers. "I'm Joe, 
I'm an  alcoholic." "I'm Sarah, I'm an addict,  methamphetamine."

The counselor turned to the friends and family members  of the dozen 
or so clients who were there for a  two-hour session. He asked: "Who 
wants to start?" No  one volunteered. He then gazed at a woman of 
about 20,  who had placed her left hand on the knee of her younger sister.

"I'm angry, and I really don't want to be here," she  began, without 
a trace of emotion in her voice. "But I  am here, because I love my father."

She proceeded to catalog the devastation her father's  addiction to 
crystal meth had wreaked on the family:  the wild mood swings, the 
abrupt absences for days at a  time, the financial ruin, his physical 
and mental  deterioration. She spoke of the anxiety inflicted on  her 
mother, who was getting tested monthly after  learning recently that 
her husband had become  HIV-positive.

The father fidgeted in his seat as his daughters, rigid  and 
resolute, talked about how the lies and suspicions  that pervaded the 
household were finally explained when  their mother found his stash 
of meth. They remained  calm as their fidgeting father, under 
unrelenting questioning from the counselor, filled in the details  of 
his plunge into methamphetamine addiction and sexual  recklessness.

What was striking about the meth addicts was the  commonality of 
their stories and the magnitude of their  collapse, despite their 
variation in age and  socioeconomic circumstances. Each talked of the 
drug's seductive effects - endowing them with almost  superhuman 
focus and the ability to stay up for up to  72 hours, enhancing their 
performance on the job and in  the bedroom - and their ultimately 
futile attempts to  continue at a "maintenance level" of use. They 
described how their lives contracted into a world of  meth users that 
revolved around their dealers,  providing them with "a family" to 
support an addiction  that was destroying their real ones. And they 
all  spiraled into an existence of depravity, despair - and  a level 
of denial that rehab had yet to exorcise.

As I heard these searing accounts of methamphetamine's  toll, I 
reflected on an October 2005 panel on "Crystal  Meth and HIV: One 
Pandemic or Two?" that I moderated at  the Commonwealth Club. At the 
time, media attention was  focused on the pervasiveness of crystal 
meth use in the  gay community, particularly in the San Francisco 
club scene, and its connection with high-risk sex. I recall  being 
struck by the sensitivity, among both the  panelists and the audience 
members, about the effect of  media coverage in "stigmatizing" gay 
men who use meth.  I worried that such sensitivity - or political 
correctness - would make it difficult to confront what  was, 
indisputably, a serious public-health problem.

Besides, I wondered, what was the problem with  stigmatizing behavior 
that was so obviously destructive  to self and society? After all, 
the stigmatization of  drunk driving and cigarette smoking helped 
reduce its  occurrence and thus save lives.

So what has happened since 2005?

Health officials and community leaders suggest that  attitudes toward 
crystal meth are changing.

"There was a a norm that it was accepted in certain  parts of the 
community," said Supervisor Bevan Dufty,  who said he encountered 
"nasty messages and ridicule"  from "some of my brothers in the 
community" when he  helped spearhead a task force on crystal meth. "I 
think  we've brought it out of the closet."

The city and state have poured more resources into  prevention and 
treatment. The price of meth has risen,  partly a result of 
pharmacies exerting tighter control  over precursor substances. 
Public health officials in  San Francisco said they have gained a 
better understanding of meth-use patterns, which has allowed  them to 
develop more effective treatment strategies.  For example, about 90 
percent of meth users are also  abusing alcohol or another drug.

"There is a little evidence that the peak of the  crystal meth 
epidemic has subsided," said Grant Colfax,  director of prevention 
for the city Department of  Public Health. "But I think it's too 
early to declare  victory."

One encouraging sign, he said, is a slight reduction in  meth-related 
admissions to San Francisco General  Hospital. Colfax was heartened 
that crystal meth was no  longer "quote-unquote cool in some 
quarters," though it  remained "a major problem."

As the personal stories at the rehab session show,  there are many 
routes to ruination. Alcohol had at  least a supporting role in every 
single one. But there  was something distinctly insidious about meth, 
in the  force of its grip and its power to steal a user's need  to 
eat, sleep and care about others.

"It's like a wrecking ball," Dufty said.

As I left the rehab center that Saturday afternoon, a  driving rain 
forced visiting family members to pull  their coats over their heads 
as they sprinted to their  cars. Many had promised the counselor they 
would return  for the next week's session; some had seen their loved 
one go through the 28-day drill before. For them,  addiction is the 
cloud that never lifts.
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MAP posted-by: Jay Bergstrom