The Hierarchy of Addiction

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Weird huh?  But, the more I get involved with this, the more I realize there is a kind of snobbery when it comes to addiction.

Parents think their kids are ‘better addicts’ because they only use pills and have yet to take their drugs intravenously.  Kids, believing the same thing think they are safe and invincible.  So dangerous.  I’ve made every mistake in the book, so you need to listen…..

A serious alcoholic I know who has had every facet of their own life impacted by this disease, destroyed every relationship they were unable to sustain, destroyed their own life, and made those lives of everyone around them diminished, still feels superior to anyone who actually used a needle to administer their drug of choice.  I do kind of get it; your miserable addicted existence will more than likely exist for a much longer time if you don’t take intravenous heroin.  That is a fact, statistically you will live longer.  I have eventually come to the conclusion there are worse things than death, and I would not have wished that sad and depressing future for Kathrine.

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I so get that everyone with an addictive substance abuse disorder will not end up dead with a needle in their arm, and in times gone by, most by far actually wouldn’t have.  Heroin and needles were for those back alley junkies with devastating beginnings and no chances in life.  Middle class kids would have had to work hard to get involved in the heroin culture, it was ‘not for you’ and it had a stigma.  Let our teens experiment with cocaine in the fraternity houses, but at least we knew they were too good for heroin.  Heroin was not ubiquitous in those times, and it was unlikely to be a decision they would ever have to make.

Now, every university in the United States has a heroin problem.  Every.  Single.  One.  Educated kids now have to make that choice, the choice that they really were not ever faced with before, certainly not on a daily basis.  Those kids previously who experimented with drugs in college either were predisposed with an addictive substance abuse disorder and now years later are either like that alcoholic I just described, or they are in recovery, or they are dead.   Or they weren’t, and they are living normal lives, raising children and should be thanking genetics for their good luck.  Remember, it is chemistry not character.

Are you still rating ‘your’ addict on a hierarchy scale, by their drug of choice or method they administer?

From someone who has made that mistake, I would encourage you to reevaluate and throw off the security blanket.  Before it’s too late.

 

The Last Day

At our last support group meeting I finally told the story of how I found out Kathrine was dead and how I was told.   I have run a support group for almost six months now but, while listening and crying to the stories others have shared, have yet been able to tell my own story… of that day.  So now I will share it with you.

 

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On Friday August 7th, 2015 I got the call at work that our 19-year-old daughter was found dead of a heroin overdose.   I was told to get up to the hospital in the town she lived (one hour away) to identify her body.  Well, I had a couple of obstacles to overcome first.  I had to stop screaming hysterically, that was tough.  I was with work colleagues (no, with friends)  and nobody slapped my face (as we’ve all seen in the movies) but the threat of having the first responders come and possibly lock me up did the job.  I had my family to tell.  I still had a younger child to tell, I had a husband to tell,  that was my job.

Therefore, I had to get home.  Those friends somehow got me and my car home. You know who you are and and will never forget what you did for me that day.

In 2008 I called my father and cousin to tell them my younger brother had died of cancer.  I thought I would never have to go through that agony again.  In August last year, I walked into our house, woke what was remaining of my family, and told my husband and our youngest daughter that Kathrine was dead.  First overdose, 12 weeks into ‘trying’ heroin, and no second chances.  And, we needed to get to the hospital to identify her body.

We got there and I was not allowed to see her then, nor allowed to see her for another four days.  Her body had been deemed a ‘crime scene’ the person who gave her the drugs, still in jail for murder and they told me ‘wait’.  After the autopsy, you can see her.  So, she was identified by the cell phone she had on her person, and I waited.

I went home that night without seeing my child’s body.   Knowing she was gone, but without proof and hoping for a miracle.  Someone else had her cell phone, maybe someone else had a child that is dead… not mine.. Maybe?

Four days later I once again walked into the funeral home and they had picked Kathrine up.  They were kind, they were considerate, and they knew I still had in my heart an outside chance that this wasn’t my child  It was a mix up, confusion.  I was warned what to expect.  It is an autopsy, her head will be covered in towels, and her face will show, her body will be covered.  Just look at her face.  And they opened the door and I walked in and saw, without any doubt, my daughter.  And with her head covered in towels and her body wrapped up, and her jewelry out and no make-up on, she looked about twelve years old.  And I begged for forgiveness for not being able to do what could have saved her.

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And as I told this story eventually in the support group I now manage, the father who lost his child eight weeks ago came to me and said “It’s no great shakes if you see them immediately  either”  He just found his own teenage daughter dead in his own house.

I wish we could do better.

 

Moving right along

Almost six months ago I went to a drug symposium in Culpeper because my daughter had died four months earlier… she was nineteen years old.. I was starting a support group at that time and needed information and help,… oh my, so much help. They showed a film called Heroin The Hardest Hit:  and Lauren (our 17 year old), and I sat there with white knuckles knowing we had to just get through it.  I got to the end and ran out the door and Moira Meehan Satre followed me into the bathroom. She had lost her son just a couple of months earlier than we had lost Kathrine. We cried and held hands sharing a grief that not many understand. Today, I sat next to Moira once again as we watched the Chasing the Dragon video.
Again we held hands but this time was with resolve. Make no mistake, we are angry, we are sad, we are devastated, but we are not giving up. We didn’t save our own children, but goddammit, we are still working on saving yours.

I am going to lobby on Capitol Hill in two days time.  What a terribly American thing to do and one to cross off my ‘bucket list’ for sure!  For those of you who don’t know, I am an English person with a strange sort of mid-Atlantic accent.

http://www.naadac.org/CARA
This is a drug reform bill that has been three years in the making.  People better than I have been working on it… for a long time! It will save lives and we all need to support it. We can argue on how many lives, but I know that one of those lives could have possibly been that of my own child.

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I have started to understand that there had to be a perfect storm for Kathrine to die in this way and at the time she did.  In order for our beautiful, imperfect daughter, born of imperfect parents, to be living in a geographical area of the world that was, for so many reasons, involved in an opioid epidemic, at that exact time she became a legal adult, making her own way in the world … WOW!  We couldn’t have planned for all those pieces of the jigsaw to come together even had we tried.

And therefore, I will lobby on Capitol Hill in 48 hours, although I have no idea how to do that.  Luckily, I will be with some of the members of our support group, and we will learn together.  And, at the end of the day and between us all, we just may one day, save a child.