It is important to note that pseudo-addiction is also mischaracterized in the Hulu series. It is used as a mechanism to accuse Purdue Pharma of encouraging irresponsible over-prescribing, when in fact it attends to patients in a state of severe “uncontrolled” pain. Uncontrolled pain is as devastating as it sounds, especially when we have means to treat it.
Once again, it is a concept that should be considered scientifically and medically, not simply as a harmful concept “invented” by Purdue for profit gains. Uncontrolled pain was not invented by Purdue at all, and has been studied from as early as 1989, before being expanded into the use of opioids for responsible pain management and becoming common amongst pain specialists for over three decades.
‘Selling Poison’
Dr. Finnix follows a similar path as the composite “addict” character, Betsy Mallum: from OxyContin use to chronic opioid abuse. He never moves to heroin, but he does buy OxyContin illicitly, while being schooled by a local drug dealer on how to get a faster high by crushing and snorting the pills through a straw.
It's not long before Finnix’s collapse is total. He has begun to behave uncharacteristically, beating his Purdue sales rep before manhandling him out of his office for “selling poison.”
The axe finally drops in a grizzly scene when Finnix is high during a surgical procedure. Then, while accompanying his now butchered patient to the ER, he complains to the attending doctor of rib-ache and requests OxyContin unabashedly. The doctor offers him a 10mg tablet, but Finnix ups the request to a 20mg pill in a manner that paints him as perhaps the most suspicious doctor-shopping-doctor imaginable.
The onus of representation for the addict group falls mostly on Betsy Mallum (Dever), who, when quizzed in an interview with Entertainment Weekly over the fact/fiction nature of her character replies: “Yes. She's a fictional character that represents a lot of people.”
Betsy is the first patient that Dr. Finnix turns into an addict. She receives the “First-Bottle” of OxyContin, to borrow Episode 1’s title, and uses the pain medicine to continue to work at the mines despite an excruciating work-related injury.
There are two points of note here: Finnix prescribes OxyContin to her with strict instructions for when to take the pills -- one in the morning and one at night -- which Betsy does. He also provides the appropriate advice of a rest period from her grueling work in the mines. He offers to go down and talk to management himself in order for the young woman be able to take a break to aid her physical healing. Betsy does not take his advice.
This is because of the important part the socioeconomic environment plays in Betsy’s crucial and unexamined predisposition toward addiction and substance abuse disorder. She knows how the mining industry works and that, in her father’s own account, she is the smallest "but strongest” one down there.
Betsy therefore has the obligation of needing both to retain her work: she’s a small-statured female and knows she is at high-risk for disposability in a shrinking industry, but she must also fulfill a need for validation from her domineering and deeply religious father. A father who would cast her out if she were to reveal her true self: her sexuality as a lesbian involved in a behind-closed-doors relationship with fellow mine worker, Grace.
This moves us on to a pivotal point. Even though Betsy is the recipient of the “first bottle,” she dumps her prescription by Episode 3, “The Fifth Vital Sign,” without tapering of any kind and without informing Dr. Finnix. Subsequently, she descends into a world of illicit diverted pills and eventually heroin. It is the latter drug that takes her life, the night before she is to enter a Suboxone treatment program and after a conversation with Grace, when she finds out that her first love can only be a friend moving forward.
Due to her addiction, Betsy never manages to make “enough money underground” to move to Grace’s Eureka Springs, Arkansas; a real place that Grace describes to Betsy as “Oz for country queers.” Devoid of hope after losing her first love, Betsy informs her flop house drug dealer that she is entering a Suboxone treatment center the following day. “So give me one hell of a sendoff,” she states as her final, fatal words.
The Fifth Vital Sign
To move beyond the episode’s sign-posting, the show depicts the medical community’s adoption of pain as the “Fifth Vital Sign” as a ploy to fuel over-prescribing. At the time the phrase was introduced, pain was vastly under-treated, there was a pressing need to bring attention to the unmet needs of chronic pain sufferers across the nation, and to facilitate dialogue between physicians and their patients to assess their pain levels and explore treatments — with opioids being just one — to increase their quality of life.
Introducing pain as a “vital sign” was an entirely reasonable pathway to take by the medical community. Although it is reasonable to argue that pain is not a vital sign in the way that breathing and heart beats are, it is nevertheless vital to assess pain. But once again, it was not a Purdue “invention” as the show would usher you to believe, it was first discussed by Dr. James Campbell in an address to the American Pain Society in 1995. The term has faced some controversy, but it was well-intentioned.
What Macy failed to do in her mishaps over medical research in her book, which led to Strong’s OxyContin demonization, does not befit an analysis of the overdose death of Betsy Mallum. Per scientific examination, the pivotal 1998 CDC-Kaiser Permanente Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) study used ten different measures of adverse childhood experiences, drawing the conclusion that that “for each traumatic event that happened to a child, they were two to four times more likely to grow up to be an addicted adult.”
The one we can outline as specific to Betsy is “parental rejection.” This is what she fears the most. When Betsy attempts to come out to her mother by stating that she “likes girls… always have… and not just as friends,” her words fall on deaf ears, with her mother quite literally pretending she didn’t hear the utterance: “Did you say something dear?”
It’s a statement Betsy’s mother later regrets, realizing its impact, but by then it is far too late. Finnix’s pre-OxyContin-addiction fishing trip during which he tries to irk Betsy’s rigid father into the enlightened mindset that being gay is not a sin but just a state of being, also misfires and leads to a demonizing, make-no-mistake style dinner scene.
Unable to live as her true self through fear of rejection and in the throes of withdrawal, Betsy burns the false-self: the one that is content sitting at home and knitting quilts with her in-denial mother.
When the news of her death is revealed, we see the camera focus on a picture of Betsy as a young child. This is also emblematic of denial; but this time not of the fictional Mallum family alone, but also of the filmmakers and Macy, who push for the narrative of the destruction of innocence via the opioid scourge.
Addiction’s Root Causes
The Mallum parents, through the zealot foisting of religion on a girl who “never believed in any of that stuff anyway,” did their daughter a deathly disservice. And they are more culpable for her death than Purdue Pharma or Dr. Finnix.
Betsy had a predisposition for substance abuse disorder, but Finnix did not. Although in Episode 4 we see him in a hallucinated waltz with his deceased wife, he seems content as a widower — although the dance scene does belie his underlying existential pain.
The filmmakers didn’t even throw in any trite backstory or anecdote of Finnix having an alcoholic father or brother — a detail that would barely be substantiating for predisposition per today’s medical rigor over addiction’s root causes. But it would have at least stimulated the viewer into questioning why this character had morphed so horrifically and so expressly.
The young Betsy, on the other hand, has a story of her own and one that would undeniably predispose her to substance abuse. Despite Strong’s claims, one must stick to individual stories to understand addiction, its roots, and the specific drugs that may come to fuel it.
By choosing to fictionalize via character composites, and by picking a “patient” so heavily predisposed to substance abuse disorder due to ACE and environmental factors, Dopesick doesn’t adequately represent the patient side of the doctor-patient relationship at all. The human element that is strong-armed into Finnix and Betsy is loaded for downfall, because that makes for good viewing. One arc is devastating — Betsy’s — and Finnix’s is convoluted, although redemptive in the end.
Covering all bases in this fashion is hyper-unrealistic, difficult to digest, and self-serving on the part of the filmmakers in their need to enthrall their audience.
‘We Have Another Pharma Case’
There is another clandestine narrative at work in Dopesick. A prosecutor fights prostate cancer as he tries to bring Purdue to justice. After waking from a surgical procedure to remove the cancer, even while semi-conscious and in extreme post-surgical pain, he is aghast at the insistency of a nurse who tries to “force” OxyContin upon him. Heroically, he refuses and relays the tale back to his boss, who declares he made the “right choice” to fight the pain with the over-the-counter, non-narcotic Motrin.
What makes the parallel between the prosecutor and Finnix so powerful is that both characters moved from bigger towns to small West Virginian areas and both describe this life choice as the “best decision I ever made.”
The difference between the two characters is that good old Dr. Finnix, the responsible and attentive physician, falls prey to addiction almost immediately, while the representative of law enforcement holds strong.
Per the narrative of the “Iron Law of Prohibition” that this show peddles, representatives of the law must be invulnerable. The show pushes this weak theory clearly. After all, who could be more of a “drop out” than a physician, who is the biggest threat? It’s not the Sacklers, if we follow the human element, but prescribers.
This good/bad dichotomy is cemented in the last statement made by the chief prosecutor of his future plans: “We have another pharma case we’re looking into…” Tellingly, the drug company is not named, perhaps because it couldn’t be.
The fight for pharmaceutical anti-opioid justice is a good story and resonates with the public. But as a society, perhaps we should focus on addiction and its role in the human condition. Treating addiction, as opposed to distilling and misleading the public about its causes, might be a better way to slow the continuing rise of drug overdoses in America.
(Update: Dopesick won two Emmys, for outstanding lead actor and outstanding cinematography.)
Lynn R. Webster, MD, is Senior Fellow at the Center for U.S. Policy (CUSP) and Chief Medical Officer of PainScript. He also consults with the pharmaceutical industry. Lynn is the author of the award-winning book The Painful Truth, and co-producer of the documentary It Hurts Until You Die.
Hazel Shahgholi is a senior editor and journalist based in New York City. Her most recent roles include Deputy Editor of amNY Metro, Editor in Chief of The Bronx Times, and Production Editor for MedPage Today.
