For thousands of weary addicts, sobriety has become a grueling waiting game. No one knows this better than Gilbert Saldate, a social worker for Homeless Health Care Los Angeles.
Twice a week, clipboard in hand, Saldate is down on skid row trying to coax a never-ending supply of crack heads and junkies into drug rehabilitation. Eight to 10 people sign up on each outing, yet only one or two will get help--largely because there aren't enough treatment programs to meet the enormous demand.
"Society wants addicts to change," says Saldate, himself a former heroin addict. "But I have to ask myself whether society really wants to help them make that change."
Drug treatment advocates wonder the same thing. While national studies show that drug abuse among teenagers and heavy users is rising, government-subsidized rehabilitation for indigent addicts remains hamstrung by unstable funding, concerns about quality of care, and a skeptical public that believes police and prisons are the answer to the nation's drug crisis.
In urban centers such as Los Angeles County, large numbers of hard-core addicts--those who spread the most crime, disease and turmoil--never make it into a program because the wait can take up to six months, a potentially expensive delay for society.
Studies show that an untreated addict can cost taxpayers as much as $90,000 a year in welfare, medical care, law enforcement and losses resulting from crime, eclipsing the $21,000 annual cost for long-term residential treatment.
"I just kept stealing, shooting heroin and running the risk of getting AIDS," says Heather, a 21-year-old addict who spent almost three months on the street while trying to get into Impact House in Pasadena.
Barely five feet tall with wavy brown hair and dark-rimmed glasses, Heather looks like a schoolgirl in a class photograph. But the innocence stops there. Homeless since age 12, she has spent almost half her life hooked on heroin and cocaine.
Like many addicts on waiting lists, Heather almost didn't make it into treatment. The day before her admission date, she was arrested for theft. Instead of sending her to prison, the judge gave her 30 days in jail and the chance to enter Impact House, where she completed a six-month course of treatment.
"The wait was horrible," says Heather, who used to live in a battered Toyota Tercel. "My whole life had become heroin. I wanted to feel different from what I was feeling."
