Electric shock for withdrawal? Chesterfield takes a chance on new device for addiction (2024)

At first, Jackie Dameron wasn’t so sure about strapping the electric buzzers to her head.

“Immediately, my mind goes to electroshock therapy,” said Dameron, a 29-year-old at the Chesterfield County Jail. “I thought I was going to seize and shake or something.”

But she put them on. The alternative was to withdraw from years of opioid and Xanax use on her own, the horror of which she knew from experience.

The county’s jail is the first in the country to debut a new technology said to help addicts through the harrowing pain of withdrawal — a days-long stretch where the body detoxes from a drug or behavior of choice. The device is numbing much of that horror. And, according to the jail’s sheriff, is so attractive that people with active warrants are turning themselves in to receive its benefits.

Chesterfield’s new gizmo is known as a Bridge. It works by stimulating nerves in the brain with a gentle, proprietary electric frequency. When equipped, a Bridge looks like a wired headset, with three points of contact around the ear.

“It’s weird having these teeny, tiny things zapping your ears. But the longer I wore it, the better I felt,” said Dameron, who was wired up recently. A heroin user of 10 years, she said she was introduced to substances by a boyfriend she trusted.

She’s one of 18 to receive the therapy. The sheriff, Karl Leonard, said the jail is one shy of a perfect success rate. One effort went awry when the patient wore their electrodes into a shower: a $600 mistake.

So far, the jail is buying the devices with profits from the canteen — a snack shop where inmates can buy things like chips and ramen noodles.

On May 20, Amanda Moore came into the jail and began wearing a Bridge to start detoxing from 12 years of on-and-off use of heroin and methamphetamines.

“It’s definitely helping,” Moore said at the time. “Usually if I was detoxing, I’d be in my bed. I’d be tossing and turning, miserable, not able to sit up straight and participate. It really does work.”

The Richmond Times-Dispatch visited the jail last month. Leonard shared that Moore, 34, took off her Bridge device on May 25 and died of unknown causes on May 26. There is no reason to believe that the device was connected to her death, for which medical examiners say the cause and manner are still pending.

Altering the feedback loop

It’s the target response for the device’s creators in California. The company, Masimo, launched Bridge in 2020. It’s the first of its kind to be approved by the FDA for treating opioid withdrawal, which can last up to two weeks.

Withdrawals occur when a brain accustomed to a dopamine-releasing chemical of choice is suddenly cut off. The absence of alcohol, cocaine, heroin, and even certain addictive behaviors tilts the brain’s chemical seesaw into a deprivation state.

The brain’s pleasure center, where this drama unfolds, basically goes haywire, said Dr. William Wilson, head of clinical research for Masimo.

“One way or another, you need to alter the feedback loops that are causing malfunction of the brain,” Wilson said. “And here you’re stimulating certain loops that are decreasing the pain, the anxiety, the discomfort and the ill feeling associated with opioid withdrawal.”

The company is pushing for more insurers, including Medicaid, to cover the $600 device. Masimo spokesperson Irene Mulonni said patients currently pay for the device out of pocket. Each Bridge runs for five days before its battery dies. The device is not reusable.

For years, addicts have weathered the storm of withdrawal through medication — from extra-strength Tylenol to clinically supervised methadone treatments. Wilson said the company wanted to make something to help addicts that did not involve a pill.

“This is really the start,” Wilson said. “And it’s also what the future looks like.”

Untraditional corrections

Last month, a man emailed Leonard with an unusual request after watching a news segment regarding the Bridge device.

“I wanted to reach out to you in reference to turning myself in,” said the man, whose name the sheriff asked be withheld. “I’m ready to throw in the towel as it stands right now ... I’m beat and tired and need help bad.”

Leonard’s jail may be one of the few in the country where wanted criminals surrender themselves freely — and where alumni come back willingly.

For years, the jail has offered a program called HARP (Helping Addicts Recover Progressively) in two separate areas where men and women commit to recovery.

In a circle similar to one that might be formed by a 12-step group, women in the HARP program talked about the Bridge, their pathways to addiction, and the tools they have found to fight their worst cravings.

Some, like Jamie Boggs, are HARP alumni who have already been released but have returned as part of their recovery. In a jail pod full of jumpsuits, Boggs stands out in her street clothes.

The program is run by Kerri Rhodes, a licensed counselor whose son Taylor died of an opioid overdose in 2019. Her mission is personal. She loves to push her clients outside of their comfort zones.

“That’s part of HARP. We love to make them uncomfortable every chance we get. Because if they can deal with uncomfortable, that’s a real step in the right direction for your recovery,” Rhodes said. HARP isn’t “traditional corrections,” she added.

Megan Thurston, a HARP participant, called her time “the best experience I’ve ever had.”

“In a jail,” Thurston quickly added, with a laugh.

‘It’s not magic’

Jennifer Hughes, one of the women in the HARP pod, described her own withdrawal as a “river of misery.”

“These people see that we’re suffering. We’re not just a number,” said Hughes, who will be released in December. “And they let us know that on a daily basis.”

In that light, the Bridge is just another addition to an arsenal of ideas that Rhodes has introduced.

“The Bridge is a tool. It’s not magic; it’s not a wand. It didn’t take it all away,” Rhodes said.

But maybe its magic is in making it a little bit easier to ask for help. Rhodes asks the circle of women if any of them would have turned themselves in willingly while they were using.

None replies.

“How many of you would have turned yourselves in if you knew there was a way to manage withdrawal and for us to help you?” Rhodes asked.

All of the women in the circle raised their hands.