Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Drugs in Perspective:
Causes, assessment, family, prevention, intervention, and
treatment
Tenth Edition
(www.facesconferences.com)
Page ii
Drugs In Perspective
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 LCR 24 23 22 21 20
ISBN 978-1-260-57550-7
MHID 1-260-57550-0
The Internet addresses listed in the text were accurate at the time of
publication. The inclusion of a website does not indicate an
endorsement by the authors or McGraw Hill LLC, and McGraw Hill
LLC does not guarantee the accuracy of the information presented at
these sites.
mheducation.com/highered
Page iii
Dr. Fields has authored the children’s mindfulness chapter book The
Amazing Adventures of Max the Mindful Mouse, FACES Publishing,
March 2019. He is also the editor and co-author of A Year of Living
with More Compassion, FACES Publishing, 2nd edition, 2016.
Page iv
Dedication
Brief Contents
Section I Understanding Substance Abuse
Section II Family
Chapter 9 Intervention
Chapter 10 Prevention of Substance Abuse Problems
Index
Page vi
Contents
About the Author iii
Preface xiv
Outline of Chapter 1 2
Objectives 2
Introduction 3
Moral-Legal Perspective 4
Psychosocial Perspective 4
Personal Perspective 4
A Perspective of Hope 5
Treating Depression 18
About Psilocybin 18
Psilocybin Legislation 19
Page vii
IN REVIEW 22
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 23
References 23
Outline of Chapter 2 25
Objectives 25
INTRODUCTION 26
Adoption Studies 33
Twin Studies 33
Addictive Personality 33
Personality Disorders 34
Self-Medication Motive 36
Depression, Anxiety, and Affective (Feeling)
Disorders 36
Family Model 37
Adolescence 38
Poor Self-Concept 38
Sociocultural Models 43
Psychoanalytic Models—Psychoanalytic
Meaning 44
Alcohol/Drugs as Power 44
Alcohol/Drugs as Self-Destruction 45
Existential Issues 46
APPENDIX 48
In Review 50
Discussion Questions 51
References 53
Objectives 56
Page viii
DEFINITIONS OF TERMS 58
Physical Dependence 58
Withdrawal 58
Tolerance 59
Cross-Tolerance 59
Synergism 59
Antagonism 59
Routes of Administration 60
CLASSIFICATION OF DRUGS 64
Narcotic Analgesics 65
Heroin 65
Alcohol 68
Barbiturates 73
Tranquilizers 78
Amphetamines 80
Cocaine 83
Tobacco 86
Hallucinogens 87
Definition 87
LSD 88
Cannabis Sativa 90
Inhalants 96
Phencyclidine 99
Steroids 101
Terminology 102
Amphetamines 103
In Review 105
Objectives 112
Introduction 113
Addiction 116
In Review 123
References 126
Page ix
Introduction 129
Denial 140
Anger 141
Bargaining 142
Feeling 144
Acceptance 144
In Review 144
Objectives 147
Introduction 148
Page x
Parents’ Shame 164
In Review 165
References 166
Objectives 169
Introduction 170
IDENTIFICATION OF CHILDREN OF
ALCOHOLIC FAMILIES 175
ALCOHOLISM/DRUG ADDICTION—IMPACT
ON MARRIAGE 177
Codependency 178
In Review 185
References 188
Objectives 190
Introduction 190
CHANGE 191
Procrastination 194
Page xi
References 205
Objectives 206
INTERVENTION 206
Assessment 211
Preintervention 213
Intervention 216
Postintervention 220
In Review 220
Reference 220
Objectives 221
Introduction 222
Empowerment 225
RESILIENCE 230
APPENDIX 234
In Review 236
References 240
Page xii
Objectives 241
Introduction 242
DEFINITION OF A CO-OCCURRING
DISORDER 242
In Review 266
References 268
CHAPTER 12 Recovery, Suicide,
Alcohol/Drugs and Relapse
Prevention (RP) 270
Objectives 271
INTRODUCTION 271
Page xiii
Stress 287
Reactivity 288
Hungry 293
Angry 293
Lonely 293
Tired 294
Sick 294
Time 295
Place 295
Things 295
People 295
In Review 302
Discussion Questions 304
References 304
Index I-1
Page xiv
Preface
This text provides a co-ordinated integration of information to help
you better understand drugs (which includes alcohol), and drug use,
abuse, and addiction. My more than 30 years experience in clinical
work with substance abusers, addicts/alcoholics, and, more
important, their families frame this textbook.
Other chapters have also been updated and revised to include new
information on resilience, relapse prevention, mindfulness,
alcohol/drug recovery, assessment, prevention, and treatment.
Page xv
The cost of living in Persia is very low; and to give an insight into
the actual expense of housekeeping, I may say that on about five
hundred pounds a year I was able to live in Ispahan, keeping—
Kerans.
A cook 50 a month.
A tableman 40 ”
An assistant ditto 25 ”
A farrash 25 ”
A platewasher 20 ”
A boy 15 ”
A head groom 30 ”
A second ditto 20 ”
A woman laundress 25 ”
An assistant ditto 15 ”
About £10, or 265 kerans.
These servants all clothed themselves, and were not fed by me,
save in sharing the remnants of the meals.
About fourteen pounds of tobacco was expended in my house, at
a cost of eight kerans, each month.
A substantial breakfast of three or four courses was served at
twelve, tea and a snack being taken on waking. And a solid meal of
four courses and a dessert was taken at eight as dinner. Tea and
cakes at four, previous to the daily ride.
The bill for messing myself, my wife, two children, and our English
nurse, together with our horse-keep for five horses, our house rent
being included, and the servants’ pay, was about thirty-five pounds a
month. Of course our English nurse’s wages were not included in
this, nor our bill for European wines and tinned provisions. These
latter were, however, quite needless, save when travelling, when it is
difficult to obtain supplies, or anything but the roughest food. I found
the cost of living[16] pretty much the same in Ispahan, Teheran, and
Shiraz. At Hamadan and Kermanshah prices used to be much less,
but are now, I think, nearly the same.
As I previously stated, no European goes himself to the bazaar. To
conclude a bargain with any Persian shopkeeper great haggling and
waste of time is required; and so high are their ideas of the wealth of
the Europeans, that it would be hopeless to attempt to deal with
them personally. Honesty cannot be expected in the Ispahani or
Teherani, but the Shirazi may be pretty fairly relied upon.
A peculiar custom is in force in Ispahan, which is possibly legal by
the religious law. A man comes to a merchant and makes a bargain.
In the morning he makes “Dubbeh,” i. e. repents of his bargain,
calmly stating, “Makhmūn shūd um” (“I have been deceived”). And
now the bargain is off! This is frequently done either to lower the
price a little, or, when the article is a fluctuating one, such as opium,
to take advantage of a rise or fall in the market. For this reason it is,
that all contracts have to be in writing, and generally something is
paid on account to bind the slippery Ispahani.
The difference between wholesale and retail is very great, the
retailer not taking generally a profit of less than twenty per cent. The
usual rate of interest in the bazaar is twelve per cent. per annum, i.
e. one per cent. per mensem, simple interest. Most, in fact nearly all,
mercantile transactions are on credit, discount for cash or a cash
price being the exception. In fact, so common is credit that the price
of a thing is quoted at so many months. Thus, in the case of loaf-
sugar, it may be, say a toman (seven and sixpence) a maund of
fourteen pounds and four months’ credit, or, when very cheap,
eighteen months’ credit. The price would be quoted as either four or
eighteen, meaning the amount of credit allowed, the actual price
being the same. Most of the wholesale trade is done through
brokers, who act as commercial travellers, and solicit orders on
commission, which they generally manage to extract from both buyer
and seller. Among the brokers a few honest men may be found, but
they are rare exceptions.
The tager, or merchant class, are generally the most bigoted and
penurious of the Persian race. Only on retiring from business do they
dare to launch out into ostentation; for the mere suspicion of wealth
in Persia exposes them to the exactions of those in power.
All disputes among merchants are settled by the mushtaheds, or
teachers of religious law. No court fees are paid openly, but heavy
bribes are often administered. Most questions are submitted by
mutual consent to arbitration, and a mejlis (council of merchants)
appointed by the disputants generally meet at the house of some
mūlla, or religious personage. These, acting as assessors, settle the
matter to the satisfaction of both parties. A definite judgment is
seldom given for either plaintiff or defendant. A compromise is nearly
always suggested and carried out. Cases of flagrant miscarriage of
justice are not frequent. When they do occur, the merchants
generally decline to resort to the court of the particular judge until he
reconsiders the unsatisfactory decision, or by petition to the capital
they effect his removal if obdurate. As both sides bribe, as a matter
of course the judgments are generally fair, always specious. These
bribes are termed “rūshwah” (manure).
THREE SHOPS IN THE BAZAAR.
In my early days I was in the habit of riding over from Julfa to the
town of Ispahan daily; twenty-five minutes’ smart trotting brought me
to my dispensary. During the summer the river was easily fordable,
large banks of gravel being visible; these were occupied by the
“rinsers of printed calicoes;” while the sun was out, for about half a
mile the gravel banks were covered with long strips of printed calico
placed closely together; at dawn the rinsers came down from the
bazaars with many donkey-loads of dyed cotton cloths; the beasts
used for the carriage were the lame, the halt, and the blind of the
asses and mules of Ispahan. As the last use a horse is put to in
Persia is to be a miller’s pack-horse, so this work seemed to be the
end of the donkeys and mules.
Along the edges of the channels between the gravel banks stood
rows of old millstones; in front of each stone was a rinser up to his
knees in the river. Taking a piece of dyed cloth half wrung out, which
had been thoroughly soaked in water, in his hands—and the pieces
were at times twenty yards long—he proceeded to thwack the roll of
cloth against the stone with his whole strength, keeping time to a
loud song until he was out of breath. As these men worked in rows,
and the cloths were full of water, the noise and splashing were
something tremendous. The work was heavy in the extreme, and as
they can only get to the river when low, some seven months in the
year, the pay is good.
As each piece had the water thus thoroughly beaten out of it, a
boy on the bank seized it and proceeded to spread it on the gravel,
fixing the edges and corners with a stone; his duty was never to let
the wrung cloth get dry, which he managed to do by constantly
dashing water over the out-spread rows of dyed cloths with a pan.
Often the process has to be repeated several times, as the cloths
are sent down from the printers in the various stages. Above each
furiously beating rinser rose a cloud of variously coloured spray
which gradually became colourless; in every direction the sheets of
water thrown by the boys glittered in the strong sun, and the loud
choruses of the half-naked rinsers, and the barking of their watch-
dogs—for each batch had their dogs—made a cheerful and exciting
scene.
Of course the calico, cotton-cloth, or T-cloth, as it is variously
termed, had to be strong and good to stand such a process; and the
adulterator had little chance with the wily calico-printer, who always
weighed his cloth prior to purchasing, washed and dried it, and then
weighed it again; the consequence is that, save of the best quality,
little cotton-cloth is sold in Ispahan. Certain brands well known for
their genuineness command a high figure, such as that of the Ace of
Spades, though they are soon closely imitated by unscrupulous
makers. However, the calico-printer is generally quite a match for the
adulterator.
Many of the rinsers make little hovels of brushwood and earth, and
live altogether on the banks of gravel, and in February, when the
waters suddenly rise, the scene is exciting as they collect their traps
at the last moment, and a few seconds after, their huts are swept
away—banks, huts, and millstones disappearing, and a furiously
rushing river of muddy water taking their place. This yearly
occurrence of the rise of the waters happens on the melting of the
snows on the mountains. The Ispahan river (Zend-a-Rūd) usually
presents the appearance near the town of a number of chains of
pools of water united by a central brook just occupying the middle of
a wide but dried watercourse, having a hardly perceptible stream,
and as clear as crystal. No sooner, however, do the spring rains
commence than the stream becomes muddy, or at all events
discoloured; and when the “sale ab,” or rise of the waters, comes,
the dams that have been placed to regulate the amount of water
taken off by the various canals for supplying the town and irrigation
—some of which are very old and really important works—are
carried away, the river is seen to rise many feet an hour; at times
even a large wave appears, and trees torn up by their roots come
rapidly down in large numbers. The huge bridges are crowded by a
shouting and excited populace, the banks and all coigns of vantage
are thronged, and for a couple of days all Ispahan enjoys the sight.
Then the river sinks, the stream becomes clear, and a broad and
swift river is seen till May, when it gradually sinks to its normal
summer insignificance, most of its waters being taken off for
irrigation and the supply of the town.
THE PUL-I-KOJŪ.
During the “sale ab” the great sight is at the Pul-i-Kojū, Bridge of
Kojū. This handsome structure, crossing the river from one of the
ruined quarters of the town of Ispahan to the palace of Haft Dust, in
which Futteh Ali Shah died, is built of brick with well-made stone
piers, and is of very original construction. As through its arches for
eight months in the year a small stream slowly flows, the huge piers
are separated at the bottom by merely narrow channels; these are
arched over, and a level causeway is the result; over this is built the
second or real bridge, which has rooms on each side of it at each
pier, with open doorways looking towards the waters; there are stairs
and rooms too in the upper piers.
When the rise of the waters takes place, this bridge, rooms,
staircases, and parapets are crowded, also the causeway. Rapidly
the lower arches become filled with the roaring torrent, still more
quickly it rises above them; at length it flows over the causeway of
stone, which at the last moment is left by the crowd, and falls with
tremendous noise into the seething flood the other side; still rising, it
thunders through the large archways, and soon the curious
appearance from the lower side is presented of a regular waterfall
the whole width of the stream, with as many torrents as there are
arches, seething out above this; above all, the double-storied bridge
covered with sightseers shouting, singing, and shrieking, with the
additional possibility of the whole being washed away at any
moment. The upper bridges are often damaged; somewhat of the
beauty of the scene, however, is detracted from by the river at these
times being the colour of café au lait.
In summer, fording the river, I entered the Char Bagh (four
gardens), or in winter approached it by the bridge. There are several
Char Bagh in Ispahan, but the principal one extends for about a mile
on either side of the river in a straight line, the centre of the line
being formed by the bridge, which is quite level—a rare thing in
Persia; and also a rare thing in Persia, it has many large arches; the
parapet is some twelve feet high, and at each pier is a small
chamber having three apertures to the river; above the parapet is
ample room for foot passengers.
The Char Bagh contains a double avenue of magnificent plane-
trees, some of great age—alas! too soon to disappear. As these
gigantic planes decay in the inside, they are felled and become the
perquisite of somebody: at times in great gales they fall with a crash,
the inside being quite gone. Also whenever the Governor wants a big
tree for any purpose he takes one, but nobody plants any new ones.
A high wall bounds the Char Bagh on either side; at intervals are
edifices pierced by gates of from three to four stories, of no
architectural pretensions; they are of brick, ornamented with
barbarous designs on plaster in flaring colours, which time has
happily toned down; these gates lead to what were once lovely fruit
gardens, now mere enclosures sown with grain, grass, etc. The Char
Bagh is some thirty yards or more wide: about half-way up on the
right-hand side is the Mehdresseh, or college, the tiled dome of
which, now fast decaying, is a very ornamental object for miles. The
dome is surmounted by a golden ornament which is stated to be
solid and of pure metal; this, I fancy, is very doubtful. The college is
entered by a high gateway, and here are the celebrated silver doors
—of the genuineness of these there can be no doubt; the centre
plates are very handsomely made, and have been heavily gilt; the
plates are not, however, very thick, and the substance of the doors is
wood under thin silver. The gateway, which is in bad repair, contains
nothing of interest, and is blocked up by fruit-stalls and pipe-sellers.
A rough kind of orchard and a tank occupy the courtyard, a few
pomegranates and roses being the principal shrubs, though there
are some large trees. Several halls for instruction are seen on either
side; these, like the mosque beneath the dome, are lined and roofed
with one sheet of perfect tile-work, green, black, and yellow on a
white ground; the whole interior of the college, too, is tiled. Taken
separately, there is nothing particular about these tiles, but the tout
ensemble is grand and cool in the extreme.
Of course we were not permitted to enter the mosque, as there
were many idlers about, but a good view is got from the entrances
and from the windows below the dome from the roof. The only
furniture is the “mambar,” or pulpit. The floor is covered with coarse
matting, or borio, which is made only in Ispahan; another kind of
matting, which is more expensive, is in use throughout Persia, called
hassir; in the manufacture of this thread is used. The borio is of
reedy grass alone, strong, clean, and inexpensive. Contrary to the
hassir, which is made in strips, the borio is in one piece, and here we
saw pieces twenty yards by ten.
Thus there is nothing in the Persian mosque to distract the mind
from the prayers, the exhortation, or religious meditation, though the
coolness and dim religious gloom of the lofty halls rather incline one
to sleep; in fact, being the hot part of the day, we saw many men
curled up in sleep covered with their camels’ hair abbahs, or cloaks.
The mosques are at night the casual wards of Persia; there sleep
those who have absolutely no home and no business, and entrance
is always free to all comers. The busy use the numerous
caravanserais. There were lofty minarets, from whence is made the
call to prayers, and numerous little cells windowed with the old
elaborate carpentry of the East, and their beautiful tracery often
papered over by the inmate to render his cell warmer in winter; a bit
of matting, a box, and a few books, were the contents of most of
them, in the corner being a small carpet, which formed the place of
honour by day and the bed at night.
The students are all either divinity or law, aged from eighteen
upwards; and an Ispahan lawyer or priest, on finishing his education,
is looked on by Persians as the type of hypocrisy and finesse. Many
of the mūllas (priests) are not, however, bad fellows when one can
break through the crust of apparent moroseness and fanaticism; they
are mostly at heart freethinkers, many Deists, more Atheists, few
being good Mussulmans.
Leaving the college and still proceeding up the Char Bagh, a
building on the right contains the Persian telegraph-office. The office
is for the local traffic, and the Persians have possession, by
convention, of one of the wires of the line; they do their own local
traffic, but the line is kept up by the English staff of the Persian
Telegraph Department.
At intervals in the Char Bagh are large hauz (tanks), most of them
in ruins, but during winter generally full of water; all down the centre
runs a watercourse a yard and a half wide—alas! dry—edged by
huge blocks of hewn stone and bridged at intervals.
On either side of this watercourse is a paved stone causeway ten
feet wide edged by similar hewn stones; along the edges under the
walls is another paved road of less width; between these causeways
are wide beds once covered with flowers and fruit-trees, now only
sown with clover and barley, which in the early spring gives, with the
huge plane-trees, a fine coup d’œil.
The Char Bagh ends in a gateway of more lofty pretensions, but of
the same style of architecture as the buildings on either side. Here,
however, are a few tiles representing scenes in the chase, probably
made during the Afghan occupation.
A wide paved chaussée leads to the gate of the royal garden, now
merely a meadow with trees. At the entrance is the Lion and Sun
daubed in staring colours on a plastered wall, and here, unless
known to the sentries, one is not allowed to pass. My professional
work having made me free of the place, we pass on, and leaving the
Chehel Sitūn, or hall of the forty columns, crowded with the hangers-
on of the minister, who here adjudicates with local grandees on
minor affairs, we come, passing a huge hauz or tank full of clear
water, to a wall in which are two recesses having life-sized portraits
in oil of former Ispahan magnates, evidently good likenesses and not
without merit. On the right is the principal entrance to the quarters of
audience of the minister and various antechambers. We dismount,
pass through a small door, are saluted by the sentry, and enter a
well-kept Persian garden, the paved walks of which are fenced off,
with telegraph wire and painted posts, from the sunken beds.
Here, too, everything is in good repair, for we are now in the outer
courtyard of his Royal Highness the Zil-es-Sultan, Governor of one-
third of Persia, the eldest son of the king, a man of genius, and in
high favour; in fact, at present (1883) the most powerful of his
Majesty’s subjects, if we except the Valliāt, or heir-apparent, a priest-
ridden ascetic of weak intellect, whom the royal policy, which points
to the survival of the fittest, will probably quietly remove, in which
case the Zil-es-Sultan will surely reign. Here all who are expecting
an audience of his Royal Highness or his people, wait; great men
and their servants, merchants, artisans, priests, veiled women,
wrestlers; a few well-dressed servants of the prince swagger about,
while his carpet-spreaders, or farrashes, with long sticks, are present
to keep order or administer the bastinado; a few executioners,
dressed in red, and shunned save by the lowest, skulk in one corner,
while half-a-dozen Jews gesticulate and shake their fists in each
other’s faces in another.
Rooms at the side, open to the air, show mirzas in long cloaks,
busily writing official letters or making out accounts. Close to the
door, which is covered with a curtain, on which is painted a colossal
sentry on guard, stands a sentinel, and here lounges the big
moustached doorkeeper with his huge silver mace.
The farrash-bashi here, too, is waiting a summons, with two
villagers in shirt and drawers of blue cotton, and felt hats: they are
chained, probably on a charge of highway robbery, or a still more
heinous crime in Persia, backwardness with their taxes. They don’t
seem comfortable, for they know that a gesture from his Royal