THE PERSONAL HISTORY OF A MEDICAL ADDICT BY A WELL-KNOWN AMERICAN PHYSICIAN When the suggestion was first made by a medical friend that I should write a short account of my personal experience as a drug addict, particularly in reference to my status as a practitioner of medicine, the idea, for obvious reasons, was repellent, notwithstanding the fact that my identity should not be disclosed. But after mature deliberation, I realized that it is largely due to this natural reticence on the part of those in position to speak, that the unfortunate addict is regarded as a social pariah by the general public, and that until the medical profession shall acquire more accurate and less distorted knowledge of this serious question, we cannot hope for any improvement along these lines. Until this is done, cruel and unjust laws will be enforced, wretched victims will be imprisoned as felons, and what is more distressing, these unfortunates will, in many instances, be subjected to torture to which death is preferable--and not infrequently results. All this is based upon the accepted theory that drug addiction is a vicious habit requiring only a little fortitude and strength of will on the part of the wretched victim to rid himself of it, while the saddest feature of it all is that this canker, eating at the very heart of the nation itself, blighting and destroying the lives of many useful men and women, is not being reached. That the average medical men can remain so hopelessly, I might say criminally, negligent of the true conditions of drug addiction is a cause for wonder as well as condemnation. If the perusal of my paper induces even one conscientious physician to seek more definite information upon this tremendously vital subject, my efforts shall not have been in vain. And now for my story. At the age of 24 I had finished my medical and hospital courses and was ready to begin my career. My plans had long been formed with reference to entering the army as a surgeon; the decision having been made for two reasons, first as a matter of predilection; secondly, for lack of means to sustain me during the time usually required to establish a private practice. Then a tragedy occurred that blasted my hopes for the army and altered my entire future. The examinations were scheduled for the late spring; in January I had come down from my home in New England to New York to complete some clinical work. Generally, I was in bad shape, and about that time I began having attacks very suspicious of angina pectoris. Finally I consulted a great specialist, who after thorough and repeated examinations, frankly told me that from overwork and long hours of study my heart had become enlarged and badly disordered functionally--that I need never hope to pass the physical examination required for entrance to the army. He prescribed rest and freedom from care--two remedies entirely beyond my reach.