Adelaide man Michael Alder shares his story of ice addiction and recovery

MICHAEL Alder suffered a brain aneurysm, respiratory failure, death threats and bashings while in the addictive grip of ice, but none of that was enough to make him get clean. It was, instead, the persistence of his mother Ivi.

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MICHAEL Alder suffered a brain aneurysm, respiratory failure, death threats and bashings while in the addictive grip of ice, but none of that was enough to make him get clean.

It was, instead, the persistence of his mother, Ivi.

The diminutive 74-year-old stared down drug dealers banging on the door of her suburban home to collect debts and dragged her son to rehab to save his life.

Now with almost eight months of “clean time” behind him, Mr Alder says his mother was “the only thing that pulled me out”.

“She was dying of a broken heart. I did it for her,” he says of his recovery.

Mr Alder’s descent into addiction was rapid but the climb out took years.

He eventually sought treatment at a costly private clinic but also received support from a program helping addicts and their families interstate, which he is now working to expand into South Australia.

Michael Alder (centre) with his mother Ivi and uncle Angel Ioannou. Picture: Matt Turner

The Adelaide-born former registered nurse, now 39, was at the top of his game when he moved to Melbourne in late 2013 to take on a new job.

But by early the next year, his long-term relationship was ending in heartache and ice was offered as the balm.

“It cut my feelings,” Mr Alder says, recalling the night he rang a dealer to numb the pain. He had used illicit drugs sporadically in the past, but with ice “it spiralled out of control very quickly”.

Crystal methamphetamine, known as ice, is usually smoked or injected and the effects can be felt in seconds.

Latest figures show 6.3 per cent of Australians aged 14 years or older have used methamphetamines at least once in their life.

Wastewater analysis shows ice use in regional SA doubled between August and December, and Adelaide remains the country’s ice capital.

At first Mr Alder only used on weekends, but before long he was too sick from withdrawal symptoms to work during the week and so the doses increased to almost daily.

Within months, Mr Alder had to be rushed to hospital where he underwent an eight-hour operation on an aneurysm in his weakened brain.

Michael Alder with his mum Ivi in about 2003.

His mother, Ivi Ioannou, flew to Melbourne to be with her son but was unaware of his developing addiction.

It took six weeks to recover in hospital. Despite the ordeal, within a few days of his release Mr Alder was back using ice.

“I thought I wasn’t ever going to touch it again,” he admits, but with no follow-up from a doctor or social worker, surrounded by drug-addicted friends and away from family back in Adelaide, he succumbed.

Out of work and living on income protection benefits, the bills piled up, as did the speeding fines from when he drove while high.

Mrs Ioannou estimates her son churned through about $300,000 during the three worst years of his addiction.

In late 2014, Mr Alder moved back to a rental house in Adelaide but sourcing the deadly drug ice was as “easy” here as interstate, he says, and his habit worsened.

Over the following years, his weight ballooned to 140kg as his metabolism shut down, he stopped sleeping and became increasingly paranoid. Scars marked the skin on his face, hands and arms.

DURING this time, Mr Alder’s uncle Angel Ioannou recalls a “babbling” and “incoherent” shell of a man. “It was maddening,” he says.

Mr Alder adds: “You feel like you’re very focused and you’re being really busy but you’re actually doing nothing”.

Eventually he turned to dealing to bring in an income but ended up in debt and in trouble, facing death threats, bashings and theft by other users and dealers.

Mid last year, Mr Alder’s health deteriorated so badly that he was admitted to the RAH intensive care unit, where he yet again needed lifesaving treatment. After four days, he checked himself out and continued to use.

By this point, his distraught mother was desperate.

She had arranged an appointment for her son with an addiction specialist, which he was too sick to attend “so I went anyway”.

“I was so scared,” she remembers. “I went there and I cried my heart out.”

Together they made a plan to get her son into the private Adelaide Clinic - part-funded by private health insurance - where he spent the final two weeks of September last year in a recovery program.

Released to live with his mother, her home became “like rehab”. “He woke up, I was there. He went to bed, I was there. Every day I was there checking on him,” Mrs Ioannou says softly, wringing her hands at the memory.

The “come down” from ice was awful. Mr Alder recalls aches and pains like a terrible flu, a hacking cough, circulation problems, fainting and more weight gain. He still has difficulty concentrating and making complex decisions or long-term plans - a result of mild brain damage from the aneurysm as well as prolonged drug abuse.

Mr Alder says he attends a Narcotics Anonymous meeting every day and he is working to regain his nursing registration.

He has pleaded guilty to drug dealing charges and is awaiting sentencing later this month.

Now, he focuses his days on warning others of the dangers of the drug that ruined his life through the Australian Anti-Ice Campaign.

Founded in Queensland, the organisation is run by recovered addicts and offers support to families and education programs in schools.

FOUNDER and CEO Andrea Simmons, a recovered ice addict, based the organisation on a US model called The Meth Project. It reportedly reduced ice use by 64 per cent in eight American states over 10 years.

All AAIC speakers have been ice addicts, attended rehab and are cleared to work with children and trained in drug education.

Mr Alder has begun discussions to send AAIC speakers into some Adelaide schools.

Mrs Ioannou is undergoing training with AAIC so she can provide early intervention to relatives - like her - who are desperate to help loved ones in the grip of ice addiction.

“I’d like to help. I can explain what happens. Sitting here now just thinking about it ... it was terrible,” she says.

“But just seeing Michael’s face, it’s all good now. You don’t shut the door on them,” she says.

The AAIC’s core message is “Not even once”.

As Mr Alder attests, “it was just that one particular night when I made the decision to take (ice)”. “Then it took away my life, my friends, my family, my money.

“I took it to feel better but it just took everything away. I’m still at risk (of relapse) every day. ”

The Australian Anti-Ice Campaign is seeking corporate sponsorship to expand in SA