that half the fentanyl I was using to sedate patients was wasted at the
end of every procedure. The fentanyl I was throwing away could easi-
ly become the fix I needed. And it did.
Why waste it, I thought. I had a responsibility that I couldn't let col-
lapse by sinking into withdrawals and felt I had no choice but to stay
normal by staying medicated, albeit in secret.
Dipping into waste is a tricky business, but experienced anesthesia
providers know how to skirt the noticeable methods of getting into the
stock. I knew I couldn't over-order supplies before every procedure; red
flags would be raised. I could, however, take on more cases, show up
earlier and stay later, and while I was able to get by with this strategy for
a time, I was caught 6 months later by my colleagues and confronted.
My usage patterns and workload had drastically spiked in under a year.
There was no more hiding, not with signs this obvious.
Eventually, my situation was uncontrollable. I began by staying med-
icated in order to function, but by the end, I was functioning in order
to stay medicated. My addiction had won, and through what I now rec-
ognize was good fortune, I was pushed into seeking treatment.
How to spot a diverter
One of the first things I tell people about drug diversion is to keep an
eye on the overachievers, not just the slackers. Culturally, we affirm
and reward workaholic, overzealous behavior, but more often than
not, these trademarks are the high-stakes symptoms of someone at
risk of addiction.
Other clues that were less obvious were easier to hide from my
peers, but they're important to note. My girlfriend, Claudia, who was
an OR charge nurse at the time, noticed changes from the beginning.
I'm happy to report that we're married now and raising a family.
Those days, though, strained our relationship, to say the least.
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