Episode 4 of "Dopesick" unravels in 1997, a year that marked the ominous proliferation of OxyContin in the market. This sinister drug held a seductive promise—a mere crushing of its pills and a sniff through the nostrils, transforming into an intoxicating high that was all too easy to attain. Yet, beneath its alluring facade lay a treacherous reality, as overdose fatalities spiraled out of control, exemplified by a harrowing scene where a group of youthful revelers watch helplessly as one of their own succumbs to its deadly embrace.
Betsy's descent into the abyss of addiction deepens, her every move now entangled with Walt, a shadowy figure in the drug underworld. Reduced to scavenging for OxyContin scraps in exchange for a fix, she's coerced into a fateful journey with Walt to Florida, where doctors allegedly turn a blind eye to the perilous pursuit of the drug. Initially resolute in her refusal, the insatiable hunger of addiction ultimately consumes her, and she finds herself on that treacherous voyage, her prescription swiftly secured.
Finnix, too, grapples with the ravages of OxyContin's hold, witnessing his patients' rapid decline mirroring his own. A year's passage has not tempered the physician's addiction; instead, it festers, his desk drawers concealing the telltale bottles of pills.
Amidst this turmoil, Richard Sackler, a sleazy figure shrouded in the shadows of Purdue Pharma, basks in the unmitigated success of OxyContin. However, the tide is turning against him as whispers of its addictive nature begin to spread like wildfire. Faced with this looming crisis, he embarks on a desperate quest to quell the growing discontent, seeking solace in a controversial theory—pseudo-addiction. This twisted narrative suggests that the very symptoms of addiction are but manifestations of excruciating pain, urging for the administration of even more opioids as a cure. It's a reckless, almost delusional argument, yet precisely what Purdue Pharma yearns for. Sackler, seizing the opportunity, lures a proponent of this dangerous ideology into his fold, offering a lucrative position and spinning addiction into a tale of pseudo-suffering, a cunning attempt to disguise the truth.
In the tumultuous year of 2004, our legal eagles, Randy and Rick, found themselves repeatedly confronted with dead ends. Their relentless pursuit of the elusive "less than 1% addiction" claim had hit a brick wall, as the esteemed physician behind the Porter Jick study in Boston remained elusive, his phone line consistently unanswered. This silence was a deafening alarm bell, signaling deeper complexities.
With their resources stretched thin due to funding cuts, Brownlee rallied his troops, urging them to engage the Virginia State Police and Fraud Unit in a desperate bid for assistance. Little did they know, their quest would lead them down a rabbit hole of archival research.
It emerged that this pivotal "less than 1%" article was rumored to have been buried within the pages of a New England Medical Journal publication from the 1980s, but the exact issue remained a mystery. A daunting task ensued, as the entire team embarked on a meticulous search through volumes spanning 1978 to 1994, only to come up empty-handed.
Yet, paradoxically, this elusive article was held in high regard by medical institutions nationwide and even graced the pages of Time magazine. How could this be? The answer, when it finally surfaced, was a revelation.
The so-called study was nothing more than a fleeting puff piece, a mere five-sentence letter penned in 1980 by a physician who had capitalized on a hospital-based observation of addiction rates among a minute sample of 11,882 patients. The claim of less than 1% addiction was an extrapolation from these limited figures, far from the rigorous standards of a genuine scientific study, which would typically span 25 to 50 pages.
Meanwhile, in 2000, Bridget Meyer, a relentless advocate, leveraged her platform to shed light on the OxyContin crisis. She urged the FDA to halt the distribution of these pills except for cases of severe, unrelenting pain. She passionately argued that the recent surge in opioid-related crimes stemmed primarily from the overprescription of these drugs for minor ailments like toothaches and headaches. Regrettably, the FDA remained steadfast, refusing to impose restrictions until she could incontrovertibly prove the drug's addictive nature.
In the bleak year of 1997, our gaze shifted back to Finnix, painting a grim picture of his deteriorated state. Will, appearing with beads of perspiration dotting his forehead and his customary nervous demeanor, ventured in to assess the situation. With unwavering conviction, he spun the concept of pseudo-addiction, an intricate web of deceit. Finnix, his voice ragged with anger, retorted that this was nothing short of poison, unleashing a fierce outburst upon the businessman. A fist met with flesh, echoing through the clinic as Finnix forcefully expelled him, marking the moment where he teetered on the brink of sanity.
For the first time, Finnix's descent into the depths of "dope sickness" – a colloquial term for the harrowing withdrawal from OxyContin and its potent ilk – became all too real. His frantic shattering of a glass cabinet, in a desperate bid to gulp down more pills, was a stark testament to his plight.
Meanwhile, Betsy's return from her respite in Florida was met with an unplanned intervention, her parents' worry etched on their faces. They encircled her, a united front, urging her to embark on a journey to rehab, a beacon of hope amidst the storm. With tears shimmering in her eyes, Betsy offered a heartfelt apology before resolutely deciding to confront her demons and strive for liberation. Within the confines of rehab, she bravely unveiled her struggles, recalling how the pills had once veiled her pain, granting her a fleeting sense of "normalcy."
Yet, Finnix's path diverged sharply from Betsy's. Far from embracing sobriety, he stumbled towards Walt's abode, a desperate plea for Oxy echoing in his every step. A stack of cash exchanged hands, and Walt, with a sinister suggestion, urged him to snort the pills for an intensified high. And so, Finnix obeyed, sinking into the sofa's embrace, surrendering to the drug's seductive grasp as it slowly consumed him.
