"I Wasn't a Mother to My Children or a Wife to My Husband; I Only Thought About Painkillers"

How do you help yourself when you're not feeling well? Do you take one or maybe two painkillers? "I regularly took between 10 to 12 pills, not just once a day, but every 4 to 8 hours," says Chavi Leichter, a young 34-year-old woman who sees it as her mission to speak about the terrible struggle she faced for years, being addicted to painkillers without the ability to quit. Today, as a healthy woman and a mother of four, she wants to deliver a clear message: "Do everything not to reach such a state, because it can happen to anyone, and it truly is a life-threatening situation."

Years of Pain

"It all started about ten years ago," recalls Chavi, "Back then, I began to suffer from very severe hand pain. It was during a period when I worked in an office for nine hours a day mostly on a computer, and I thought it made sense for my hand to hurt. When the pain didn't go away, I went to a doctor who diagnosed 'carpal tunnel syndrome'. That also made sense to me. He gave me anti-inflammatory pills, but they didn't help. The pain grew stronger and spread to my shoulder and neck. It got to the point where I couldn't move my neck, and my hand barely functioned. On one occasion, the pain was so intense that I couldn't function and was rushed by ambulance to the hospital."

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Chavi notes that she arrived in the ER with a low pulse and then received her first Percocet, which immediately improved her feeling and significantly eased the pain. "The feeling was amazing," she remembers, "With the first pill, I felt like the world around me suddenly looked pink, all the pain disappeared, and so I continued to take the pill in a low dose of 5mg for ten days. The problem was that after ten days, the dose no longer affected me, so they kept increasing it until eventually, I was taking 60mg of just Percocet, plus Lyrica, pain relief patches, and other painkillers. I took 10-12 pills every four to eight hours, not including the cannabis I was receiving, with medical approval, of course."

Were the doctors aware of the unimaginable dosages you were taking?

"Yes, of course, they prescribed them to me, and not only that, but they themselves instructed me to take them. They simply saw my condition up close, heard what was happening to me, and had nothing else to offer, so they offered the prescriptions. Additionally, it was explained to me that in order to receive medical cannabis, I would have to take all these pills for a year, and so my family doctor and pain doctor prescribed all these medications to me."

Six years passed for Chavi with relentless pain and an almost paralyzed hand while continuing to take all possible painkillers without understanding why the problem wasn't resolving. In the end, the doctor at the clinic raised the suspicion that it could be thoracic outlet syndrome, where pressure is applied to the nerves and blood vessels in the area between the neck and the armpit. After specific tests, Chavi learned that she indeed suffered from the syndrome and was offered surgery, which was new in the country at the time, performed at Hadassah Ein Kerem Hospital by Dr. Maddie Al Haj, a hand surgery specialist. "The surgery saved me," Chavi exclaims, "It lasted ten hours and truly brought a physical solution to the problem. I finally returned to move my hand freely and function like a regular woman, but the painkiller addiction didn't disappear. I continued taking painkillers at a high dose, partly because I still felt pain and partly because I couldn't quit."

"I Became an Egocentric Person"

Chavi seemingly returned to routine, but it was a completely different routine from what she led before. "Of course, I couldn't return to work, and essentially stayed at home all day, occupied only with thoughts about the pills and the painkillers I was taking. I wasn't interested in anything else, including my children and husband. I remember days when I ran out of a painkiller from the list, and the feeling was so difficult, as if something had been taken from me. I would send my husband across half the country to get me that painkiller, and I wouldn't calm down until he brought the goods."

But how did you fill your days, what did your routine look like?

"I did nothing; my days were empty. At that time, I lost my identity, my children lost their mom, and my husband lost his wife. But the worst thing is that it didn't bother me at all."

Chavi pauses for a moment, then carefully continues, "I want to say something harsh, but it's important for it to be heard: A person who is addicted becomes the most egocentric person in the universe. They see nothing but themselves and their painkillers. After the surgery, they brought my daughter in kindergarten a 'wish hat,' and each child put a note inside it with their wish written on it. My daughter wrote 'for mom to make me a ponytail,' but unfortunately, I couldn't do it, nor did I prepare breakfast sandwiches for my kids or help with homework. From a young age, my kids learned to be very independent, and of course, my husband supported and cared a lot. He managed the house during those days."

And what about the environment? Did acquaintances and family members understand what you were going through?

Here too, Chavi wants to highlight a particularly painful point, "Addicts are the best liars there are," she says. "On the outside, I pretended like I was completely fine, even going out with my husband to events and gatherings, as if nothing happened. That's also why I don't blame anyone for not offering help, because people couldn't imagine the state I was in."

Chavi doesn't blame her surroundings, but she does blame the medical system. "How is it that none of the doctors warned me that I might become addicted? How is it that they didn't talk to me about the shocking side effects from the pills, like confusion, memory loss, and weight gain, which I suffered from during that period? How is it that no one prepared me for the fact that no one truly suffices with one pill, and that I might reach a point where I end my own life and that of my family?"

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According to her, it didn't stop there, as the doctors, seeing that the pills were not sufficient, also sent her to a psychiatrist who also prescribed pills for a period, thinking that the problem probably existed in her head. "I quickly stopped the psychiatric pills," notes Chavi, "because it was clear to me that I had no mental issues, but I couldn't stop the painkillers. I wasn't able to quit them."

"The only one who was alert to what was happening with me was the pharmacist at the health clinic. Each time I got the pills from him, he looked at me with pity and asked, 'But why do you need this? Why are you harming yourself?' During the withdrawal period, he saw I was consuming fewer pills and greatly encouraged me. The last time I visited and told him I was clean, he looked at me, and I saw tears in his eyes."

Gradual and Difficult Withdrawal

But how did that happen? How did you manage to quit?

"It started when I saw another person around me who was also addicted and in a similar situation. Seeing his behavior, I recognized myself in it, and it terrified me. We were with him on Shabbat, and when he made *kiddush* on the wine, he got completely mixed up with the words. That, too, reminded me of myself. I felt that I wasn't ready to look like that and called my brother-in-law Aryeh Munk, CEO of Beit Hacham. I told him I needed help, and he explained that in the days that I was dealing with orthopedic pain, it wouldn't be right to refer me to a regular rehab center, especially since I'm a religious woman and it wouldn't be suitable for me to go to one of those centers. Instead, he recommended I go to a private withdrawal clinic, and so I went to Dr. Chaim Moshe Adahan's clinic, who is a professional and very experienced doctor, with an amazing and dedicated staff. At our first meeting, he looked at the list of medications I was taking and told me I was in danger of a heart attack."

From that day, the withdrawal process began, which was gradual and very difficult. "I started reducing the pills gradually, and the pain was not only mental but also physical," Chavi describes, "It was a terrible period where I couldn't sleep at night; I was vomiting, my body hurt all the time, and I couldn't help myself. I remember being angry and irritable with everyone around me. The feeling was dreadful, but I understood that if I didn't follow the process to the end, I would be in life-threatening danger, and that motivated me to do what was necessary and not give up."

During the withdrawal, Dr. Adahan once told her an important sentence: "To quit, you need to find a new addiction," meaning not a real addiction, but something else she could engage in to distract herself.

"I adopted the idea," Chavi says, "Initially, I went on a lot of shopping sprees and also ordered many home deliveries. It wasn't a good habit, but looking back, I know it helped me a lot in quitting the pills. Later, I decided to start a business organizing and arranging homes. It's something I had been doing on the side before, but I decided to do it officially. I discovered that the work really heals me, and to this day it fills me with great satisfaction, and I truly feel like I'm fulfilling myself."

Today, Chavi is about five years post successful detoxification. "There's still pain," she acknowledges honestly, "There are days when I can't even breathe from the pain, but I learned to recognize where the pain is coming from and accordingly perform calming exercises, not fighting the pain but walking hand in hand with it, understanding that if it hurts, there's a reason, and also simply learning to breathe deeply and wait for the pain to pass. I have been strengthened and returned to being a mother to my children, a wife to my husband, and a business owner that, *Baruch Hashem*, succeeds and develops. I'm grateful for that every day."

And one can't help but ask: What helped you in those difficult times when it seemed there was no chance of recovering?

"One thing, only faith. During those days, something interesting happened to me. Throughout the period I suffered, I was somehow on the spectrum of 'believing and not believing' because the pain so confused me, but since I started the withdrawal process, my faith has leaped in a way I had never felt before. I live with *Hashem* in every sense, and even when there's difficulty, it is clear to me that He is the only one who can help me. Of course, there was also the family support from my husband and all those around, who didn't judge me but accompanied me warmly and with dedication throughout the way. That's also my message to anyone who encounters such cases in their surroundings – do not be judgmental; give them all the empathy in the world because they have a chance to quit, and much of it depends on you."