- Mom-of-three Alex Gardella led a privileged life in Manhattan.
- She became seriously ill with a retained placenta and needed surgery after her last baby.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Alex Gardella. It has been edited for length and clarity.
My drug dealer would hide the painkillers between the pages of Vanity Fair, one of my favorite magazines, and slip it into an envelope from USPS. Then he'd drop off the package and leave it with the doorman of my building in Manhattan. I'd tell the doorman to send it up in the elevator, where I'd pick it up.
Minutes later, I'd frantically chop one of the pills with a credit card. I'd snort the powdered Oxycontin through a rolled-up bill.
My problem began in 2020 after complications from a C-section. I bled very heavily after I left the hospital, and things didn't seem right. A week later, my medical team discovered that I had retained some placenta and a piece of sponge from the surgery. I was at risk of a life-threatening infection and needed emergency surgery.
The operation was successful. When I woke up, one of the first things my doctor said was, "Where do we need to send your prescription for Oxycontin?"
My condition was serious enough to warrant strong painkillers and became habit-forming. My opioid addiction lasted more than two years.
Painkillers got rid of my discomfort postpartum and helped ease my anxiety
In the early days, the drug both minimized my physical discomfort and boosted my mood. "You got this," I thought about juggling my family and real-estate agent career.
However, the prescription ran out after about a month. I was overcome with anxiety. I'd wake up terrified that the baby had died of SIDS. I'd visualize scary things happening to his twin siblings, then 3, like falling out of a window.
For better or worse, I could afford the drug
I self-medicated with alcohol. But it was a Band-Aid. I craved the high I got from Oxycontin — despite the high mortality rates of overdose — and was determined to get it. I knew that the doctors wouldn't prescribe me more, and the simplest route was buying them from the street.
In 2021, I ran into a friend of a friend who put me in touch with their supplier. The tablets cost $30 each, and I'd take six or seven a day. I was in a fortunate — or unfortunate — position to afford them. Nobody suspected.
My husband was more worried than angry when he realized I was abusing prescription drugs
Some days, I'd be sociable and charismatic, especially when showing apartments to prospective buyers. On other days, I'd retreat to my room, leaving my nannies to deal with the kids. One nanny watched them during the day, another in the evening.
We went on vacation with family and friends. I'd make excuses not to go to the beach with them. "I need to stay at home to wash and dry the towels," I'd say before chopping another pill.
Things came to a head a month later when my husband walked in on me and saw me snorting the drug. He was more worried than angry. "I'm disappointed you don't love yourself as much as I love you," he said. If anybody believes in my potential, it's my husband.
He believed me when I said I'd quit on my own. But, of course, I didn't. I became much less inclined after being diagnosed in 2022 with liposarcoma — a cancerous tumor on my abdomen. After it was removed, I relied on a fentanyl drip for pain relief.
A month later, I confided in my psychiatrist about my need to escape reality. She sprang to help. I was given Naltrexone, which reduces opioid cravings. However, if you still have them in your system, it can cause precipitated withdrawal. But I thought I was invincible and took Naltrexone too soon after a fix. I called 911 within three minutes of ingesting the medication.
I detoxed in the ER for four days and attended outpatient rehab for eight months. Almost as soon as I left treatment, I relapsed into drugs.
I overdosed after snorting from a batch laced with street fentanyl. One minute, I was in the back of an Uber returning home from a lunch with a friend. The next I was in an ambulance on the way to the ER again. I reached rock bottom.
At last, I am present for my family
I got sober in February 2023 with the help of Vivitrol, an injectable form of extended-release Naltrexone. Unlike the pill version, there's no option to miss doses deliberately, so you can start taking opioids again. I receive my shot every 21 days. It's changed my life. I no longer have cravings for either opioids or alcohol.
Now, at 36, I'm fully present for my family. We go on adventures together, playing soccer, going to camp, and hanging out at the beach. I no longer hide in the vacation house. I jump the waves with my kids and eat ice cream.
Do you have a powerful story to share with Business Insider? Please send details to jridley@businessinsider.com.