A pedestrian walks on Bay Street in Toronto. (Fred Lum/The Globe and Mail)
Claire Cameron is a novelist and essayist whose books include The Bear and The Last Neanderthal. This piece was assembled using phrases from more than 40 sources about personal experiences with fentanyl and related opioids.
She was a fighter a performer a casual smoker who loved photography and sculpting a beautiful, sweet girl a survivor of cancer a paramedic a teenager a movie buff a little brother and an uncle a niece, an aunt, a daughter a philanthropist a Pulitzer Prize finalist a pot head a good kid he was loved
I’ve had three back surgeries a near fatal bicycle wreck prescribed for pain associated with cancer injured a thumb playing hockey the dose that used to work doesn’t so it gets increased my life was beautiful it progressed
I wasn’t capable of feeling joy addiction was gradual a slow and steady spiral there’s no way to know exactly what is in those they’re a hundred times stronger the effects would wear off quicker it’s not about being a bad person
Who did this to her? she has tried quitting the center was reluctant to accept a shortage in the province no money left for private treatment someone you love is trapped
It totally destroyed me unbearable withdrawal I knew this could kill me its ability to suppress breathing lethal even in small doses I just want to wake up I wish people understood how much I wanted to stop it hurts to have skin
Getting no response we kept knocking, banging heard his brother crying I opened my eyes the look of fear there was no answer I will never forget
Every 49 minutes the stories are different yet all the same woven together, a twisted tapestry the most visible and invisible group losing beautiful, creative, and loving people there’s somebody out there struggling with the same if you’re reading this you can make it don’t ever give up.