Ball and Chain

If you haven't had to deal with the death of a family member, you probably haven't had to consider death certificates.  In addition to personal information and next of kin, it states the primary "cause of death" as well as contributing factors.  So, for example, death could be due to atherosclerosis; sepsis or blunt force trauma.  "Contributing" factors could be  pneumonia, diabetes, etc.

That's the clinical stuff.  The County Coroner is supposed to classify the death.  However, to the family, to the survivors, your loved one is dead.  No longer here.  Does it matter how it happened?

Well, as a matter of fact, it does.  To some, it matters a great deal.

Take, for example, suicide.  No one ever wants to say his or her loved one committed suicide.  It was an accident!!!  Or, it was part of a nefarious plot (look up Vince Foster (of the Clinton entourage) for a great conspiracy theory).

The idea that someone you love would willingly take their life is for most folks too much to bear.

And so it is with addiction.  The idea that someone took drugs and died of an overdose is also too much to bear.

If you read my earlier post on "The Hierarchy of Death" you know that there are "acceptable" causes of death and not-so-acceptable causes.   We want our loved one to be part of the "better" reasons that she/he died.  It places us higher on the "worthy of sympathy" scale.  Military or cancer deaths are just about at the top of preferred deaths; drug overdoses and suicide are in a race for the bottom.

Recently, a friend of mine received word that a family member had been found dead in bed.  This person had a history of drug use, and of being in and out of jails and rehab.

When a known addict is found dead in bed, the immediate thought is "overdose."  And so for my friend that's what she and everyone else thought.  My heart was heavy, knowing the pain she was suffering as she had tried so often to "rescue" him from his addiction, to somehow free him from the demon that served as his ball and chain.

So imagine my reaction when my friend texted me the next day to say that "thank goodness" it appears her family member may have died from a "seizure" not an "overdose."  She thought that death by seizure would be "much easier to take."

I had to think about that for a while.  How is death ever "easier to take"???

But of course.  We do not want our loved one to have died of an overdose.  Oh, the shame!  If they died from an overdose, clearly it was our fault. We didn't do "enough" to keep them from the drugs. We are somehow to blame for their addiction and their death makes us look bad!  We could have prevented the overdose!

Here's the cold truth. You cannot prevent it.

Repeat:  You. Cannot. Prevent. It.

You might postpone it, and save someone from an overdose today.  But only if the addict WANTS to change their path will the path be changed.  You cannot change their path.  That is their journey alone.  [I make exception for the scum of the earth that supply drugs to known addicts and encourage their use or make money off their use.  They are death merchants and should be held accountable.]

As family members, we always believe we can change them.  But we can't.  Worse, we -- the family and friends -  are judged by others if our loved one dies from suicide or addiction.  It is always seen as somehow our fault.  We "let them" go astray or failed to protect them.

I will spend the rest of my life spreading this truth:  That no one can free another of whatever ball and chain binds them.  We can only accept them and love them and make them know we are ready to support their efforts when they decide to admit to and manage their addiction.

Right now, there is a plague of overdoses on opioid medication (particularly Fentanyl).  I'm glad that the tragedy is being given a public forum by elected officials as well as family members (like the mom who posted photos of her son on life support after he took Fentanyl, shortly before they removed life support and he died.)   Giving a face to addiction, and removing the shame, will benefit all those who must confront another's addiction.

Also, I am glad to know that Narcan (which can reverse the effects of opioid overdose) is being supplied to first responders who can prevent deaths.  It's true, if you catch an overdose in time, Narcan can save lives. First responders should have had this drug in their kits a long time ago.

But the story not being told is what happens after someone is revived.  Do they change?

The sad truth is, many do not.  Addiction is as part of their genetic make up as the color of their eyes, or their preference for chocolate vs. lemon.  Only if the addict makes the decision to confront his or her addiction is there any hope of avoiding the inevitable outcome of "jails, institutions or death" [go to an AA or NA meeting and eventually you will hear this truth.]  That's why the first step of any 12 Step program is to "admit we are powerless over alcohol/drugs."  Only when the addict admits the problem can the addict ever hope to try to deal with the problem.

We cannot get them to admit it.  Only they can do that.  We are indeed powerless over their addiction.
So how does this reality fit in to the Hierarchy of Death that I wrote about in a prior blog? And about my friend's loss of her family member?

No one wants to admit their family member died of an overdose.  It sullies their memory.  They were a "drug addict" and that makes us look bad too.  Had we just sat down and had more dinners with them as kids.  Or had they just gotten involved in sports.  Or gotten to the right therapist.  Or if the parents had not gotten divorced.  Or if only had they gone to church regularly. Or lived in a better neighborhood.  Or if we had just kept them productive at a job or hobbies.  The list of "if only we'd done....." goes on to infinity.

All bullshit.

All that matters is that they have the addiction genes, the genes were triggered, and after that it's their journey.

"Well it's been 10 years and a thousand fears, and look at the mess I'm in.
A broken car and a broken nose, an empty bottle of gin.
Well I search and I pray,
In my broken down Chevrolet,
And I'm singing to myself, there's got to be another way.

Take away, take away,
Take away this ball and chain,
For I'm lonely and I'm tired, and I can't take any more pain.
Take away, take away,
Never to return again,
Take away, take away, take away...."

[Social Distortion, "Ball and Chain"]

So my friend, like so many others, cannot confront the reality that her family member's demon of addiction did not go away.  She needs to believe he died of something else, anything else, other than addiction. Yes, maybe he did die of a seizure.  Or a heart attack.  But years of mistreating one's body with drugs or alcohol will lead to seizures and heart attacks.  Yet how much easier it is to say to the world, "so sad, he was doing better, and he suffered a seizure."  Far better than to say the dreaded word "overdose."

And far better to not  think that we -- and the addict -- failed.

Many folks don't know that Bill W., one of the two co-founders of Alcoholics Anonymous, who lived many years sober, asked for whiskey on his deathbed.  Pardon the pun, but that is a sobering thought.

For my friend, I hope she comes to peace with whatever the coroner finally states as a cause of death. The loss of her loved one is no less tragic or no less worthy of sympathy and support whether it was a seizure, or a heart attack, or an overdose.

Survivors of loss feel the same pain and gaping hole in our psyches regardless of the cause of death. Those who have lost still need love and support -- and no judgment -- from the rest of us.

Give love and give hugs and most of all, don't judge the cause of death.  It's still death.  And someone still grieves.  Let's not give them more to grieve.


copyright 2017