Fentanyl Archive

Constant vigilance is part of caring for someone with Opioid Use Disorder. Death can steal a loved one away without argument, like a force of nature, in the same manner a frost settles and kills off susceptible plantings. Also like frost in winter, relapse and death is a possibility in certain ‘Seasons’ or the emotional ups and downs of life.
Stress is like Winter to an addict. I know of three high functioning adults in the past two years, who were special to me for different reasons, who relapsed and died from substance use disorder. One use. One time.
“L’ange de la mort est venu les geler”:
Snow Angel


The Angel of Death came to Freeze them.
Opioid Use Disorder or OUD is eventually incompatible with life because the drug is both so compelling as a binder to the receptors in the central nervous system, and the ‘signal’ is so strong it overrides the autonomic nervous system. This is how fentanyl and other opioids kill:

“When a person dies from heroin or OxyContin, there’s not a direct line from the drug to a stopped heart. An opioid overdose is sneakier and slower-moving. It begins by lulling the lungs into cozy submission-the hijacked opioid receptors cause a rush of pleasure that turns into respiratory distress. The lungs sleep so hard that, as the airways constrict, the person literally forgets to breathe.
Death lingers first over the fingers and lips; they turn limp and blue. Gurgling noises dangerously sound like snoring but are actually death rattles. Once the oxygen starvation moves inward to vital organs like the heart and brain, a loved one or rescue worker has three to five precious minutes to jolt the receptors awake and reverse the over dose before brain damage occurs and then death.”
-Raising Lazarus by Beth Macy, 2022.

Reflecting:
I got cut a break from caring from my oved one with OUD after I dropped my son off at the Residential Treatment center Phoenix Rising in Palm Desert. Leaving him safely nestled into the Coachella Valley in the Sonoran Desert. I drove back up the State of California reflecting on the deadly drug Fentanyl.
How did our son start using a drug that can kill?
In short: He was not armed with enough knowledge of either the beneficial or detrimental effects of drugs. After his initial use and any adverse effects; his encounters with the medical profession entrenched his dependence on illegal drugs and heightened the feelings of shame and desperation.

Our son will have tried the controlled drug Oxycontin (Another opioid) sometime in his Junior or Senior Year at High School. He was always curious. I am well aware of when he started experimenting with pot. I would tease him and tell him not to be a doofhead and toke in his bathroom as it vented to the corridor.
It was not good that my son tried marijuana, as it led to a scary episode of poor mental health. Yet at the same time it may be the only drug that has an extract or controlled derivative that calms his racing thoughts and allows him to sleep. I remark in this fashion as all drugs have effects both positive and negative:

A Brief history of Good Vs Bad Drugs
All the cannabis species with psychoactive properties have the potential to be as useful to mankind as any drug produced artificially by any pharmaceutical company.
Indeed it is due to the Harrison Narcotics Act of 1914 that we discern between ‘good’ pharmaceutical grade drugs and bad drugs in the first place. Any drug the taxman couldn’t tax henceforth became immoral. “The Harrison Act was a United States federal law that regulated and taxed the production, importation, and distribution of opiates and coca products.” 
Before the Act, communities were using opium and coca products with impunity along with alcohol and tobacco and:

After That:
After that, drugs were split into two camps: Those that were Good and Taxed and those that were Amoral and Underground. Eventually along came the War on Drugs. Nixon and Reagan pumped up their support base by casting drug users as America’s Number One Public Offenders. The moral tone was set by the (hilarious in hindsight) 1936 Movie Reefer Madness. Nixon and Reagan portrayed recreational drug users as being akin to abortionists and Communists. I think we can all agree on the Communism element, if you can tolerate this blog.
The War on Drugs also became a de-facto war on Black People and Young People and punitive sentences were set for drug crimes.
Bill Clinton was the worst offender in perpetrating this for political gain, in my view. The War on Drugs is used across the spectrum to buy votes.
THIS HERE is what is killing 100,000 Americans a year. Oh and did I mention in my last post? No-one cares;
Votes have been worth more than lives for the past century. Politics is killing our young. It doesn’t have to be that way. We, parents, aunts and uncles, Grandparents and veterans who have lost young ones just have to be more savvy about who and why we elect people to change the Drug and Medical Care Laws.
I mentioned in my last post some remedies to prevent more deaths. What do I mean? These are politically unpalatable remedies generally recommended by those working in the Harm Minimization field or those other exhausted parents like myself.

I will come back to other tools to defeat drug harm, but we must:
#1 Make legal small amounts of the illegal drug ( a very small percentage ) of the titrated up dose that the user was taking freely available as an alternative to illegal lethal street narcotics. When alcohol dependence is being addressed at home this is called tapering. Humans have been doing this for centuries. AA talks about doing this with “green”, recruits. I did it myself successfully when I ditched alcohol for a decade in my twenties. Individuals must be provided with the dignity to leave behind the drug of their choice and seek out community care and support free of institutionalized stigma and pressure. It is already done by professionals as psychiatrists take patients off high toxicity fentanyl onto Methadone or Suboxone via Oxycodone.
Drug replacement therapy (buprenorphine) or Suboxone must be made available freely to addicts at clinics. Drug and alcohol craving can be so strong. It can ONLY be defeated with drug replacement therapy. Buprenorphine is a partial opioid agonist, meaning that it binds to those same opioid receptors but activates them less strongly than full agonists do. People on Bupe or the long lasting version Sublocade don’t crave and they withstand life’s stressors better than with community support alone. There is still pushback in the Treatment industry against drug replacement therapy. It is seen as a moral failing to be an addict even by those treating us. We’re told to pray to the great cookie dispenser in the sky and try harder next time. Morals Assisted Treatment MUST change for US to STOP dying!

Remembering back to when this all got real as per my previous post: Driving down to Palm Desert my son started to get dope sick. We discussed how to manage this. When I say discussed, I mean there was a back and forth between an exhausted hypervigilant Mom and her dope sick, paranoid son. There was some fear about presenting to Accident And Emergency in San Jose.
So we tried an after hours clinic near Santa Cruz. It was a waste of FUCKING time doing the obligatory Covid test, as when I explained our situation to the intake person, they looked down their FUCKING noses at us and said. “Oh we don’t carry those drugs (buprenorphine and comfort meds that accompany the detox process) here.”
WHY THE EVERLOVING FUCK NOT?
in every American suburb, Kids are dying. Stressed parents are dying. Veterans are dying. This is a fucking war, morons.
Your doctors are morons, for not advocating for a clientele in need. Your politicians are morons and your police and firemen are overworked and frightened. Traumatized and frightened. For us.
I was so tired. I had already been driving for six hours so tried to find a hotel. It was the next day I had had it confirmed that my son would have a bed in residential treatment for the first time.

I say, ‘the first time’. Because although Phoenix Rising Treatment Center in Palm Desert was a wonderful respite for my son and us as parents and our son’s primary caregivers , we have to be ever watchful. And we have had a time so far. as I will detail.
I mentioned the veterans affairs. I got distracted momentarily and took a trip to D.C. to witness the passing of the Pact ACT. And get a few good night’s sleep.

Discuss and share:

Become enlightened.
Get the newsletter:

The Scene
The last week was a pretty successful one, personally. I closed a business deal. I’m disorganized so I am chasing loose ends. It’s fairly minor. Real estate.
I finished a Calculus paper. Started a second course of study. Neuroscience. I’m interested in the brain and behavior. Trauma and rehabilitation. How do people overcome adversity. How do they come back from “Hard Things”. Post war life, addiction. Traumatic chronic illness, Is there a recipe? An algorithmic soup as it were?
Last week my daughter starred in the Lion King as Scar in the Local Production. She has the ability to go into character. Maybe she will explore acting. I want her to have an easy uncomplicated life.

Oh, and our family home was raided by the Cops. Mid morning on a Tuesday. Ten units, K9, guns and a Hobbs Seal (no knock warrant) warrant to search) (assault rifles Inc. AR 15’s)
Why?
We have drugs in the community. Opioids; Fentanyl. Meth. Teenagers are dying in many suburbs of America. A number of teens got their persons and their houses searched that week in surrounding counties.
I was at school at the time. I knew our house was about to be searched. How did I know? Unusual activity in the neighborhood. When you go to treatments for drugs and alcohol over and over like I did, you learn stuff. How to be observant. You play spot the Undercover Cop.
My oldest son had been taking opioids off and on. He had been detoxed under medical advice in 2021. His initial encounter with heavy opioids was in a hospital setting for pain relief.
I told my teen to sort his shit out on the Monday. I cleaned my bathroom in case the cops would think I was a pig if they came through and went to class. I was more concerned about missing calculus than freaking out.
I called home at school break and I guessed by the tone of hubby’s voice that they were at our house so I left class and drove by. Asked the Sergeant how long they were going to be. He said, about an hour, so I picked up a coffee from the coffee cart and went back to class. I felt like a right cock for being late back to class.
Isn’t it interesting how the human brain works to protect the mind and consciousness?

The rest of the week unfolded. I scrambled to keep my family safe. My son got put up in Motel 6.
He had to get a lawyer. I went to watch my daughter perform in a play. That was heart wrenching considering the circumstances of our family.
I wished I could have done better in my Calc final. The injury in the parietal and temporary lobe hamstrings me in exams. Not to mention the hours I had spent cajoling my previously opioid addicted son to his senses, over his interaction with the cops.
He had been arrested at McDonald’s in the early AM before the search.

On Saturday following the search. I woke up with my nerves jangling. I decided to get my son out of town TODAY! He had a treatment bed pending, and being aware of details which I can’t or won’t disclose, (he is now early in recovery) I chose to lam it with him. He was free but because of his actions I was unsure how long it would be before we drawn back into the scene .

After my journey to treatment with him and living with my son for a year, I have come to the certainty that: 1. ) There are several agencies on the drug “scene” that are vested in it’s continuation, none of whom have my son’s best interest in mind. 2. ) The cartels are selling drugs widely in the ‘burbs of America. Maybe they have always done this. Only now the drug being fenced is deadlier. Micro-doses of Fentanyl enthrall some. (Small amounts shut down the central nervous system.)

Imagine if as a social drinker every 250 times you drank you were forced to chug a handle (1.75 liters) of alcohol) There is no guarantee you would come out alive. These are the odds: Or as the sheriffs of a border county say: “Will you get on the plane today”? The link is an interview by Jacki Daily of two border county sheriffs. The sheriffs liken this public health crisis to, a 757 every day taking off and dropping out of the sky and killing all on board.
AND NOBODY IS DOING ANYTHING!
3.) Teenagers like my son are being addicted and recruited. Addicted and recruited. In a profitable enterprise. It’s like a Santa sack pegged up on a tree or a Clothesline. It’s full of goodies and no-one wants it to fall and spill the goodies everywhere. Every now and then a peg is removed and discarded. A teenager dies. Someone like my son loses his mind.

And Mom’s like me have to do an fifteen hour road trip with a methed up opioid addict on the come down because medical help is so hard to access even with health insurance.
Don’t get me wrong. It was fun. It was a little quirky back-tracking though a prison town to distract him, to see if we could score when an afterhours clinic wouldn’t prescribe suboxone. (We of course didn’t go on an illicit drug buying mission, but I have heard of other Mom’s resorting to extreme measure to keep their children alive, stable and seizure free)

What now?
Fentanyl deaths have touched our lives. I’ll ensure my son knows the meaning of accountability for having drugs in his room. But I won’t let anyone fucking touch him, anymore. And I had hoped that I could pull together a narrative that might resonate with other Mom’s and after checking with a lawyer; What might be revealed other than anonymously that would be useful to other Mom’s and Dad’s and politicians to change the War on Drugs to how to Minimize Harm from Drugs.

But I digress. What I learned today from my own Drug and Alcohol Counsellor is that while there is chaos in the suburbs. Death, detritus and mayhem:
This is but the latest chapter in the War on Drugs and there is NOTHING that can be done about it.
Everybody wants drugs to stay illegal. Nobody wants to close the border until the measures are put in place to regulate the flow of guns and drugs and so kids will still die, go homeless, or go to prison.
With the Federal Governments blessing. The cartels are quite open: “It’s okay to kill the American”, a cartel member said to one of the sheriffs.
And why should they care”, said my friend. “We”, (Our Government) hasn’t!
There will be more fentanyl deaths.

And right now I’m jaded. No-one cares so I’ll look out for my own. I’m sober, in recovery and I’m going to get my nails done in Santa Barbara and go home and plan my next trip to a border county.
Why am I going? a taste for travel. Thirst for knowledge. To check in on my son.

A Mom and Son

And if anyone chances on this who has some input into public policy. The only way out is this: Full legalization. Regulation. Total border and customs control until the supply side is regulated.
Forget the bleeding heart about the importees or the deportees.
Lastly. Stop pinning it on the fragile addict. we are sick to fuck of playing doctor, lawyer, politician and gangster.

Discuss and share: