Fentanyl continues to be the deadliest drug our region is combating.
Statewide, in 2018 (compared to 2017): fatal cocaine overdoses increased 11.8%
and fatal methamphetamine overdoses increased 44.3%
CLICK HERE for a PDF of the full report.
This good news brings hope that our region is making progress in it’s efforts to help those struggling with addiction.
We know we still have a long way to go, but the fact that death rates are down – even if that is because Narcan is readily available – shows that we are moving in the right direction.
This article by Allison Brophy-Champion shares some of the latest statistics: “In 2018, there were 29 deaths in this region, 34 in 2017, 44 in 2016 and 14 each in 2015 and 2014. In the past seven years, 146 people have died from using heroin in the area covered by the task force.
(The number of area overdoses is likely higher, as they do not take into account local hospital data, which is not readily shared with law enforcement.)”
Interested in finding out more about Narcan? Come to a training!
Feb 13th 6pm CULPEPER www.cayacoalition.org/revive/
Feb 18th 6pm MADISON www.rrcsb.org/revive-training/
Mar 26th 6pm WARRENTON www.rrcsb.org/revive-training/
Read the full article at the Culpeper Star Exponent
Come learn how to recognize the signs of an overdose
and leave equipped to help save a life!
Narcan (Naloxone) is an easily administered nasal spray that helps temporarily stop the effects of opioids. If someone is experiencing an overdose, Narcan can help keep them alive until first responders arrive.
This quick and easy training teaches you about opioids and their effects on the body, as well as how to recognize and safely respond to an overdose.
Participants leave the class with 2 FREE doses of nasal spray Narcan.
There are several opportunities to take the course. You must pre-register.
Feb 13th 6pm CULPEPER www.cayacoalition.org/revive/
Feb 18th 6pm MADISON www.rrcsb.org/revive-training/
Mar 26th 6pm WARRENTON www.rrcsb.org/revive-training/
Though he’s never been convicted of a crime, Geard Mitchell spent part of his childhood in a juvenile detention center, at times sleeping on cement floors under harsh fluorescent lights left on through the night during lockdowns.
He attended high school by clicking through online courses and had “no one to talk to but the walls” because of restrictions on phone calls. He attended group therapy with teens accused of rape, when what he really needed was grief therapy to process his mother’s death.
Daily life became so torturous that Geard scratched up his face to look like a methamphetamine addict, hoping that “they would transfer me to somewhere more normal, like rehab.”
Geard’s only crime was being a foster child in an era when a surging number of biological parents are falling into the grips of drug addiction and child welfare systems are struggling with a shortage of foster parents.
Not even death ends the ripple effects of stigma,
In some ways – it’s even intensified.
The last installation in this 4 part series focuses on stigma and how it affects those in recovery and their families.
I was thankful to be a part of it, and help spread awareness that this stigma still continues for family members even after an overdose death has occurred.
Read the article at Fauquier Now or read PDFs of the entire series from the
Piedmont Journalism Foundation
DEATH CERTIFICATES DON’T LIE
When people hear that my son died of cocaine/fentanyl poisoning, many are hesitant to believe it.
“Are you sure?”
“That doesn’t make sense, one is a
stimulant and the other is a depressant”
“That must not be right.”
I’ve heard it all.
I was not there when Joe died, and I am no doctor, but I know this . . .
Joe’s toxicology results tell a story.
They tell a story of his last hours.
A story I have no other way of knowing because no one is talking – not to me at least.
This is all I have – the pure medical science of it.
A beautiful life condensed to a sheet of paper full of nonsensical numbers, sent to me in the mail by strangers who never even touched his body.
Did you know they don’t even bother doing autopsies on these deaths anymore? Apparently,
the cost is too great – the backlog too enormous – the results assumably known.
Oh, that not one more will die Lord.
That not one more family with know these awful truths.
That is my prayer. But I know in this fallen world – I ask the impossible.
So, I press on with awareness. With speaking out at every opportunity. Here is another awareness article from the Roanoke Times that I was happy to contribute to.
In memory of Joe,
but really . . .
for those still alive.
At first, Dee Fleming assumed her son died of a heroin overdose since that’s the opioid that’s been dominating the public’s attention. When she received the death certificate, she was surprised to learn that her son had died from a combination of cocaine and fentanyl, an opiate painkiller 50 times more potent than heroin and 100 times more potent than morphine.
After years of relatively stable numbers of cocaine overdoses in Virginia, in 2016, deaths increased 40 percent over the year before. In 2016 and 2017, fentanyl was implicated in more than 54 percent of cocaine deaths.
Read the full article by Amy Friedenberger at The Roanoke Times
Since Joe died and I chose to speak about his overdose publicly, I have learned not to be shocked by the hateful and insensitive comments on social media about those struggling with addiction.
But what I experienced today took it to a whole new level.
After reading an article in the Orange County Review where I shared Joe’s story, a man came into my workplace to speak with me. He shared about losing his daughter in a car accident. About how the pain of losing her has never lessened even though she has been gone for a very long time. I listened – totally understanding that this kind of loss can never be fully healed this side of heaven.
But then – he began to speak of my son.
He said “Doing drugs is pretty stupid”
I agreed, “Yes it is”
“Well,” he said
“I think that maybe that’s nature’s way of weeding out the weak ones”
I’m glad I was in shock because if not, I have no idea how I would have responded.
Apparently, because it was drugs that killed my Joe and not a car accident – or a disease – his death wasn’t as tragic – wasn’t worthy of our reflection and sorrow.
So, if I were to apply his logic:
We should be thankful people die in car accidents because that helps get all the bad drivers off the road – right?
We should be thankful people die of disease so they don’t pass along their “weak” disease prone DNA – right?
No one would ever believe those things – yet, we do when it comes to addiction.
And suicide.
How does someone reach the conclusion that they don’t deserve to live?
I believe it happens when we lose sight of our most basic human mandate:
LOVE one another.
So, to that man who told me, to my face, that my son’s death of a drug overdose was “nature’s way of weeding out the weak ones” . . . . I have something to say to you:
I say thank you.
When I am being swallowed by my grief, I will think of you.
When I am weary, I will think of you.
When I doubt myself, I will think of you.
When I am discouraged, I will think of you.
Thank you for reminding me of why I do what I do.
Thank you for reminding me there is still so much work to be done.
Thank you for giving me clarity as I walk this path.
Thank you for giving me more courage, more determination, and more will to continue on.
Thank you for reminding me to dig deep and find the good in my pain.
Thank you for reminding me to see you through the eyes of God.
Thank you for straightening my spine and helping me remember why I’m here.
Thank you for reminding me that I am strong, and will not be diverted.
I am praying for you.
I pray that the love of our Heavenly Father overwhelms your heart and your mind, revealing to you that Jesus, the Good Shepherd, sought out the weak in His flock and carried them – carried them! close to His chest.
So, for me, I choose weakness. Any day. No Question.
For me, I choose LOVE.