I lost contact with my father for about a year, and one day my brother came to me with news that he had found him. Somehow, we made our way to a small house in a suburban area of Springville, Utah, where Dad was slumped over in his grey Ford pickup, one foot on the brake while the truck sat in neutral. At that moment, we didn’t know he had overdosed on painkillers. We called for an ambulance, and as we waited, Dad started making a terrible sound, gasping for air and foaming at the mouth. I was only 13 when I heard that noise, which I later learned is referred to as the “Death Rattle,” a telltale sign of overdose. My brother, at 16, and I managed to save our father that day, but his battle with addiction continued, ultimately leading to his death five years later.
Watching Netflix’s “The Pharmacist” was particularly challenging for me, as it chronicles Dan Schneider’s journey in the late ’90s and early 2000s. After losing his son to a bad drug deal, Dan starts to reevaluate the Oxycontin prescriptions coming from his own pharmacy, grappling with the notion that he may be contributing to the problem. My father passed away in December 2001, and it stirred up memories I had buried. “The Pharmacist” addressed many issues I was too young to comprehend but felt painfully familiar. While my dad didn’t go to a pain clinic like Dr. Cleggett’s in Louisiana, I remember accompanying him from doctor to doctor, watching him leave with multiple prescriptions. My brother and I jokingly referred to his doctors as his drug dealers—a behavior all too common among addicts in that era.
It became apparent that my father was ensnared in a marketing scheme from pharmaceutical companies, persuading doctors to prescribe increasing doses of pain medications. I recall how he had surgeries in the early ’90s, after which he was inundated with prescriptions, leading to his eventual addiction. I still vividly picture cleaning out his apartment after his first arrest for forging prescriptions and driving under the influence. I filled a garbage bag with bottles of Oxycontin, Soma, and Xanax, a combination referred to as the “Holy Trinity” for its resemblance to heroin’s effects. Dan Schneider’s awakening to the dangers of these prescriptions was a stark contrast to my own experience.
Reflections on Resentment and Regret
Two thoughts weighed heavily on me as I watched the series. First, I grapple with a lot of resentment toward my father for the pain he caused our family. Now that I’m 37 with three children of my own, I often reflect on what could have been—a healthy relationship with my father and the joy of having him as a grandfather for my kids. It fills me with bitterness, especially knowing how important that bond is. The man I knew was so different from the one everyone spoke of fondly before addiction took hold. I often wonder how much he was to blame for his choices and how much was due to the addiction he fell victim to.
Secondly, I couldn’t shake the thought of all the doctors and pharmacists we saw during my father’s struggle. Why didn’t anyone take a stand like Dan Schneider did? If there had been a Dan Schneider in rural Utah, would my father still be alive? Would he have been present for my children? Would he have been healthy and drug-free?
Many of us affected by the opioid crisis ask similar questions. Shedding light on the systemic issues, the greed, and the human cost is crucial to preventing another tragedy like this. “The Pharmacist” does just that, highlighting a story that is as relevant today as ever.
Further Reading
If you’re interested in exploring more about these topics, you can check out this article on home insemination and related subjects at Home Insemination Kit. For a deeper understanding of fertility and related resources, Facts About Fertility offers excellent insights, and for authoritative information, you can visit Intracervical Insemination.
In summary, “The Pharmacist” is a powerful exploration of addiction and its far-reaching effects on families. It prompts critical questions that many of us are left to ponder long after the credits roll.