October 27 - One Woman's Battle . . .

by Randy Richmond of the London Free Press:

She kicked crack, cocaine, speed, prostitution, outlaw bikers, rape, molestation and the abortions.

She made peace with God, married a good man, had two kids and got a nice house in a London suburb.

Then Danielle Lampman got a toothache. And for that toothache, she took a little pill.

Now she was in real trouble.

I tore the house apart to find another one. Cupboards, drawers, desks. I looked everywhere. Finally, she found the pills under her husband's clothes in the closet. She took one. Relief washed through, with guilt in its wake.

Her husband came home from work and found her crying. Throw them away! she told him. I didn't tell him I took two. I felt absolutely ashamed. He threw them all out.

The little pills were Percocets, a pain killer made of acetaminophen and oxycodone.

Oxycodone is an opioid drug, like morphine, codeine, heroin and methadone. It's also the key ingredient in the brand name drug OxyContin.

Percocet and the much more potent OxyContin are the twin barrels in the North American health-care weapon against pain. But the two prescription drugs and other oxycodone-based relievers can kill much more than pain.

They can also blow holes in people's lives.

Born and raised, if that's what it can be called, in London, Lampman, 29 - fought all her life against the odds.

Her alcoholic mother left her father when Lampman was two and went on assistance. With five children and a raging drinking problem, she often had no money or place to live. We moved once every couple of months. We were in and out of Merrymount Children's Centre a lot, Lampman recalls.

I loved it there. It was my safe haven. I was fed. There was a warm bed to sleep in and a pillow. I had a toothbrush. I had a way to get to school. I had a lunch."

Her mother took up with a new man. He stayed long enough to sexually molest Lampman, from the time she was three to six. Each year of her young life brought a new milestone around her neck.

Charged with assault on her mother at 14. Left home at 15. Dropped out of school at 16. Pregnant at 17. Gave birth at 18 to a son, Gavin. Broke up with her baby's father at 19. By 20, raped by her sister's friends at a party.

I remember sitting there and yelling in my head for my sister - Help, help me, I'm down here.

She didn't tell police. Her friends were criminals. Her lifestyle rife with acid, mushrooms and hash. I was in a lifestyle then where you didn't call police.

But Lampman couldn't hide what happened from herself. I felt like I deserved everything I was getting. Ever since I was a child, I felt like my body was nothing special. It was a shell. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't function. I couldn't get off the couch.

Her mother dragged her to the doctor. He said I was a disaster. He told me he'd have to call the Children's Aid Society because I couldn't take care of my son.

She sent her son to live with his father. For the next three years, she descended further into drugs and the users that came with them. Crack, cocaine, speed and pimps, bikers and dealers.

Her biker boyfriend told her to get a job at a massage parlour. You have to smoke crack. You can't work in a job like that and be sober. You're saying, I don't give a crap about myself - here is my body and do with it what you want. I was a walking dead girl."

Once, her biker friends took her and her younger sister, Lucianne, on a road trip to Kingston. The car pulled up outside Kingston Penitentiary.

I didn't know why. When I went up to the doors, they told me to go inside and make this inmate happy. Her work done there, she and her sister were taken to a clubhouse in St. Catharines. The bartender eyed the two women and said to her boyfriend - Which one of these girls is mine? Lucianne's eyes filled with tears. Lampman stepped forward. I said -'You want the cute little one' - and I walked away with him."

Twice she got pregnant. Twice she had abortions. My boyfriend told me he'd kick my stomach in if I didn't.

Sometimes her boyfriend left for months. In those days she'd get her own place and think about getting her son back. She moved close to her son's father. I knew the life I was living was wrong. I just felt stuck.

For the second abortion, she lay on the table and asked for no freezing. The only lessons I have ever learned in my life are the hard lessons that hurt me. I wanted this to hurt as much as possible because I am never coming back.

She walked out of the hospital and looked up at the sky. I am so sorry, God - she said.
I knew my life was going to change.

It did, for a time. She worked for several months more at a massage parlour, doing nothing "extra" to pay off a debt. I kept having dreams, my son was stuck in a car that went off a bridge. The life that poor little boy was living, he was drowning. That was my fault. One day she slapped $100 on the front desk and walked out, her debt paid off.

A part-time manager named Andrew followed her. The two moved in together and made a home for Gavin. Lampman got pregnant again and this time, had a little girl.

She got pregnant again in 2003. At 18 1/2 weeks, severe pain gripped her right side. Doctors figured her placenta was ripping away from her uterus and terminated the pregnancy. In the procedure, her uterus was perforated and a piece of her spine went into her bowels. It was just surgery after surgery to fix what was broken.

Doctors gave her Percocets, then OxyContin, to ease the pain. The pills took away not only her physical pain, but all the emotional pain of the past.

She rode the pills for eight months, until a specialist determined her ovary was twisted. An operation fixed that. I didn't have any pain after that, but I kept saying I had pain so they would prescribe. All it took was a few tears to make it look like I was in pain.

Her specialist and family doctor began balking at prescribing more pills. They sent her to a pain specialist. As soon as I went in to see the pain specialist, I knew it was nothing . . . I knew I was OK to get Oxys for the rest of my life. He told me, 'I think you will be on this medication for the rest of your life.' Lampman was fine with that.

Oxy numbs you. You don't have to think. It takes the guilt and shame all away. There's nothing that phases you. My husband would say things to me and I was looking through him. All she could think of was the next pill.

You live hour by hour. You don't think about anything else but in two hours, I can take my next pill. Of course, the hours shortened, until she was taking them 10 minutes early, then a half hour early, then whenever she needed them. I couldn't tell you how many I took. I know I was taking a lot.

For a year and half she filled her life with OxyContin. The painkillers crowded all else out. This is what Percocets and OxyContin do. They get you alone and in a place where you feel no one understands you and you don't know how to get out of there.

She told her husband, after all they had been through together, she felt utterly alone. "I told him - I feel so alone it wouldn't matter if I was here or gone. I told him I don't want to live no more. He cried and said, How can you feel that way, you have a life and kids?

But I didn't have a life. She played the poor me game, heading into a doctor's office moaning from the pain. She has no idea how much she was taking toward the end of her two-year addiction. One prescription started Aug. 22 and was supposed to last until Nov. 22. She was out of pills in a month.

I think I am addicted, Lampman told her husband. No, no no, you aren't. So she went to her husband's doctor. He gave her enough to last from September to November. She ran out of those. When she ran out, she made Andrew go out and buy them. She knew where. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to see me in pain.

OxyContin contains a time-release, so it lasts several hours. Crushing it destroys the time release, giving users an instant and powerful high.

Did I crush? Every time. Lampman told no one she was addicted. Not from shame, from greed. I didn't want to share with anyone.

It was Lucianne who gave her the reason to kick. Lampman watched her sister vomit one day and found out she too, was hooked, on OxyContin.

She was my best friend. When we were growing up we were all scattered, but it was always me and Lucianne. I always felt like I was there to protect her.

Lampman vowed to do the same now, by getting off OxyContin first. She went to her pain specialist and told him to stop the prescription. She'll never forget what he said. - 'OK, I'll stop poisoning you now.' - It couldn't be said better.

She curled up on the couch for three days and waited for the onslaught. You get the chills like your bones are refrigerated. You get the shakes. You are nauseous. You can't function. It feels like you are fighting demons.

In breaks from the battle she looked up at her children. I remember thinking, I want to feel their pain. I want to feel their joy, but I can't feel it on painkillers.

Coke, crack, speed, nothing was harder to kick.

After three days of hell, she cut off ties to relatives and friends she knew were on Oxy.

She stopped drinking. She kept her family at arm's length. She and Andrew settled into a routine life, a good life. Then, during a routine teeth cleaning last October, peroxide got into an old root canal and shot up the side of her face. The dentist gave her Percocets.

Scared near to death, Andrew hid the pills and doled them out when Lampman needed them. Within two days, Lampman knew she was getting addicted. She knew she needed more. After she tore apart the house, she made Andrew throw them all out.

Lampman knows her story is hardly typical and she represents only a small part of the Oxycontin addicts. That's why she wants to tell her story. If, after all she fought, painkillers gave her the toughest battle, what chance do others have in beating the addiction?

Lucianne remains addicted, Lampman fears. She isn't sure where Lucianne is living, or how she's supporting her habit.

The addiction takes your life away. It doesn't add time. It takes away. It doesn't add joy. It doesn't add strength. It takes everything away.

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