A famous actor at the Four Seasons showed me a pimple on his eyelid.
This was a sty, I explained, a blocked gland. It wasn’t serious. There was no
treatment except hot compresses. It would go away in a week or so.
He needed it to go quickly, he said. He had a television interview the
following day. A previous doctor had stuck a needle into an earlier sty, and
he’d be grateful if I did the same. He endured it stoically.
“You wouldn’t have any Oxycontin?” asked a guest. He
was consulting me for a rash.
“I’m the doctor you call when you feel sick,” I said.
“For Oxycontin you need a different sort of doctor.”
We parted on good terms. My refusal did not offend
him; from his point of view there was no harm in making the request.
It’s wrong to divide celebrities into upstanding
citizens and the drug-addled exceptions. They are a cross-section. Many work
hard at their careers but enjoy the occasional drug if it’s available, and they
move in circles where scoring requires only a modest effort. Wrecking your life
with drugs, as with alcohol, takes persistence.
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