The Poverty Industry

His tall, imposing figure in a thick down camouflage jacket nearly blocked the door as he stepped into the examining room. The unshaven face made a thin veil over his pock-marked, scarred cheeks. As I sat down by the desk he stood with a massive slurpie in one hand and a blue licorice strand in the other, occasionally using the licorice hand to run over the top of his head and flip his pony tail behind him, hesitant to sit down. This picture of a hardened criminal juxtaposed with a nervous child seemed strangely incongruous.

I got out of jail yesterday and I need my methadone script.
Why don't you have a seat? I venture.
All I need is my juice. Can I have all my meds daily dispensed? Its just easier for me that way. And can I get my meth script for two weeks?

Okay. No. No. Are the answers.

Have you used since coming out?
Not much.
How much is not much?
Just a couple flaps of seven and a rock or two.

Its like learning a new language. The language of drugs and poverty. His body quivered in frustration and his words were angry in response to the answers he was given. He stormed out with a two day methadone prescription in hand. Why so angry? In his eyes, this crazy doctor had just cost him $40.

$10 per week of methadone prescription, that's $20 for a two week script.
$10 per week of other prescription drugs if they are daily dispensed by the pharmacy.

Methadone and poverty are big business. Several pharmacists in the downtown East side have built empires around this. They receive ten dollars as a dispensing fee on any medication. So for methadone which needs to be witnessed daily, that's ten bucks a pop. If the patient is on six different medications and the prescription is written to be given out daily by the pharmacy, they just made sixty bucks in a few swallows. So big deal, the pharmacist is getting rich off of tax payers' dollars. Just a little entrepreneurship, right? I'm sure doctors do the same thing with 'efficient' billing and sneaky tax cuts. Right up until you start paying a person with an addiction to bring you their prescriptions. Giving them money that goes straight back to crack, heroin, booze, or crystal meth.

Then there's the recovery house business (some run jointly with a pharmacy no less!) There are a few run by the health region, but many are privately run with no restrictions to what they provide. They survive by getting most of your welfare/disability check deposited directly to them and providing you food and lodging. The worst stories are of six people crammed in small rooms, harassment, abuse, open drug use, and horrendously unhealthy cheap meals.

One of my favourite Jesus stories (other than saving the party by turning water into booze) is when he looses it in the temple courtyard where people are selling stuff. He knocks over tables in righteous anger against those who prosper from inequality and take advantage of the poor. Poverty and injustice break my heart, more than that they piss me off. Something deep down in my gut bubbles with anger. But exponentially worse in my mind at least, is those who prosper from the brokenness of others.

Here's where it all comes full circle. As a medical professional my living ultimately comes from suffering humanity. If I am not actively involved in trying to change the system, in preventing suffering and not just benefiting from it, by definition I become the oppressor. Stick that in you pipe and smoke it doc! Who are you judging anyway?