Sask. documentary series sends message that addiction doesn't discriminate

Megan Poole opened her eyes and saw paramedics.

She was strapped down and confused. She had overdosed for the first time — but not the last. It happened on her brother's birthday in January 2018.

"You think when something traumatic like that happens, that you would kind of take a step back," Poole said.

The Regina woman wasn't fazed.

"I knew what I was doing, but for some reason I was convinced that I was invincible."

Poole's story is one of several featured in the documentary series On the Frontlines of the Addictions Crisis in Saskatchewan. The series was produced by Saskatchewan Union of Nurses (SUN) in partnership with physicians, the Regina Police Services, teachers, counsellors and families affected by addiction. 

'A very close call'

Poole had started with alcohol, then turned to stronger substances like cocaine and then oxycontin.

"The second that I turned to that thing that took my pain away — I fell in love with it."

She overdosed for the third time one month later. Poole remembers standing in the kitchen with two pills. She can't remember swallowing the second pill, but figures she must have. 

"It completely tranquilized me," she said. "It was a very close call. [Paramedics] Narcaned me twice and it didn't bring me back."

• How to access life-saving take-home naloxone kits in Saskatchewan

At the hospital, doctors considered amputation.

"I was laying on my right side basically for the full 18 hours," she said. "I ended up cutting off all the circulation and the blood flow to the right side of my arm."

The disease does not care who you are,  where you came from. Age. race, sex identity, higher class, middle class, lower class, it if it wants you, it will take you.- Megan Poole

She said her kidneys failed, her liver was shocked and she severely damaged her bicep muscle.

She said doctors saw "the muscle was already grey and dusky, deeming it basically dead," when they opened it her up in preparation for amputation.

She said the risk of infection was too high, so they didn't proceed. Poole spent 21 days in the intensive care unit. 

"For the first week week and a half, I was completely in and out of consciousness."

When she woke up she felt a little "flick" in her arm. She's been fighting to use it ever since, as she's been fighting to stay off drugs.

"I didn't see me being able to live with this demon on my back for the rest of my life." 

Poole said the fight is worth it and now she's working to break the stigma.

"The disease is ruthless. It will stop at nothing until it successfully does the job by taking your life," she said.

"The disease does not care who you are,  where you came from. Age. race, sex identity, higher class, middle class, lower class, it if it wants you, it will take you."

'A perfect storm'

Tracy Zambry, who is president of SUN, shared her Regina family's story in the documentary series. Her 29-year-old son Wesley had used cocaine in high school, but started using oxycontin in 2010.

"It settled him down. He felt like he could then sleep that some of his pain went away," she said. "He still can't articulate to me though if it was physical pain or emotional pain."

Zambory said the family started to unravel as Wesley sunk deeper into addiction.

"It was kind of a perfect storm," she said, adding that her dad was diagnosed with dementia, her grandmother's health was declining and her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer all around the same time.

"There was a lot of stress and I think it was Wesley might have got lost in the mix."

Wesley began injecting the drug in 2012. Zambory said his addiction grew and at one point they found a rig — a spoon, hose and needle — in their home.

"I was devastated," Zambory said.

Wesley lost jobs, had travel to Spain disrupted by black tar heroin and had "horrific fights with his brother" after he moved back home.

"It became very apparent that this just could not continue."

The family intervened and begged him to get help. He decided to head east to Holland College in P.E.I. to pursue a cooking career, but that didn't help. 

"It's like any addiction if you really haven't solved it you're just going to start up where you left off," she said.

Wesley came back to Saskatchewan in January 2018 with the help of his concerned partner.

"He would use in front of her until she said that's it, that's just I can't do that."

His partner helped him connect with a methadone clinic.

"He said Mom it's a miracle I've got my life back. I can actually function," she said.

She said Wesley is now trying to get his feet underneath him and has chosen a career path as a financial worker, but is fearful about leaving the methadone program.

Zambory said it's important to know addiction can get anyone, regardless of their background.

"People think that an addict is a certain person from a certain area of low socioeconomic means. That's just not the case," she said.