Relatively minor issues can thus cause major problems with service catastrophic events, like the one we’re currently experiencing, almost always do. Like any highly regulated government program, it is characterized by bureaucracy, inefficiency and wide variation in treatment quality and practices between programs in one location versus another. The main reason for my cynicism when it comes to the official messaging is that the clinic system doesn’t work very well during the best of times. We know that if the methadone clinics do close, aside from a few doctors and advocates, most people aren’t going to care that much. And thus, this event has been stressful, not only from a healthcare perspective, but also in that it reminds us of our stigmatized status within the world of healthcare consumers. I’ve booked multiple overlapping flights, canceled important events, woken up at ungodly hours and much, much more-all to ensure that I get to my clinic in time to put another 24 hours between me and the creeping horror of withdrawal. Like most people on methadone maintenance treatment (MMT), there’s almost nothing that scares me as much as not having easy access to my methadone. Although the government (and my clinic doctor) insist that clinics will remain open-and the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration has instituted relaxed guidelines for distributing take-home doses-lots of us are still checking to see if we still have that old dealer’s number, wondering if the local dope spot is still around, and starting to ask ourselves tough questions about whether, and for how long, we would be willing to hold out without our daily dose of methadone.

The rapid onset of the coronavirus and subsequent shutdowns have got those of us on methadone feeling pretty scared right now.

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