A 28-year-old Seattle man first got hooked on Xanax in college. Years later, he moved on to fentanyl....his fourth DUI, a felony, sent him to prison for six months.
Released in June, he relapsed on fentanyl — the same drug that’s ensnared his older brother — on his very first night of freedom. Thirty days of inpatient treatment followed, then placement in a clean-and-sober house in White Center.
After a seven-year battle with addiction, he was found unresponsive in his bed Aug. 22, dead from a fentanyl overdose.
“I’m sure there’s a million stories like mine,” said the man’s mother, Andréa, who asked that she and her sons be identified by their middle names to protect their privacy. “He never really could be out in the world and not fall back into it. He definitely didn’t want to die.”
In August alone, a 15-year-old girl and 9-year-old boy who died in separate incidents in Kent were among the county’s youngest fentanyl overdose victims, according to the King County Medical Examiner’s Office.
Fentanyl’s reach has even extended behind bars: Michael Fortin, a 42-year-old man incarcerated at the Federal Detention Center in SeaTac, died Aug. 25 of a combination of fentanyl and buprenorphine, a drug used to treat opioid addiction, according to the medical examiner.
Nonfatal overdoses are increasing, too. Jon Ehrenfeld, manager of the Seattle Fire Department’s mobile health team, told the City Council last month that fire officials are responding to 110 overdoses a week,
Fatal overdoses involving methamphetamine also are on the rise, with the stimulant involved in 454 deaths as of Thursday, compared to 532 for all of 2023. While the combination of fentanyl and meth was seen in 36% of 2022 overdose deaths, the combination of fentanyl and cocaine was far less common — until last summer.
Though fentanyl in pill form — known as “blues” — remains the most common vehicle of overdose, Bogan said investigators are increasingly seeing more instances of powdered fentanyl or fentanyl in “rock form” at death scenes.
I’m curious how widespread this is across the nation. Being in my Portland bubble and how caught up we get, it’s easy to forget that is this happening elsewhere. It seems like this was already on...
I’m curious how widespread this is across the nation. Being in my Portland bubble and how caught up we get, it’s easy to forget that is this happening elsewhere.
It seems like this was already on the way up but COVID, like a lot of things, placed it in fast-forward mode right quick.
I attend my local rehab for opiates (six years clean today!) and they said they haven't seen a single positive urine screen for heroin in over six months. Every single screen is positive for...
I attend my local rehab for opiates (six years clean today!) and they said they haven't seen a single positive urine screen for heroin in over six months. Every single screen is positive for fentanyl instead, mostly among people who think they're using heroin.
People my wife and I went to school with are dropping like flies from opiates. It's an epidemic. Drug overdose is the leading cause of accidental death in the United States right now. It beats car accidents and guns combined.
Nah, it rarely starts that way, if ever. You get a legitimate prescription for an opiate painkiller after an injury. You meet a girl you really like and she gives you a pill which leads to a...
Exemplary
Nah, it rarely starts that way, if ever.
You get a legitimate prescription for an opiate painkiller after an injury. You meet a girl you really like and she gives you a pill which leads to a magical night. You're partying with friends and the coolest, funniest people in the room are popping or snorting pills with apparently no lasting effects. Take your pick.
Opiates don't instantly destroy you, but the seeds of addiction are planted early on and they're so insidious you never know they're there. The first year or so is absolute magic. No withdrawal, no cravings, you can go days, weeks, or months without thinking about them. It starts out so casual and harmless. It's so fun and easy.
You do them every few weeks on a Friday or whatever, no big deal. But eventually you do them on a Saturday. Then you do them on a Sunday during the day. Then you have a nasty cold or a really shitty task to do at work, so you grab a leftover one from last weekend and take it before work. Days or weeks go by, you do it again when that undesirable task comes up. Then you do it again the next day. Then you realize you don't really like work as much without them. You don't remember the last weekend that you didn't use them at a party or social event. You're the fun guy at the party now, but a little shadow of doubt is creeping into your subconscious as you notice you didn't save as much money this week as you normally do. You get your friends into it because you love them, and you love being high, and you want them to feel as good as you do. It's the best feeling on planet Earth and everyone deserves to feel the all-encompassing warmth of opiates.
Eventually you're out of money, still working though. You have a nasty flu that won't go away and you can't sleep. It takes you about 3 days to realize it's withdrawal. You only realize it when it goes away the next time you can afford some pills. You figure you'll just wean off of them, except you keep taking them and thinking, "Well, I'll do it tomorrow. Today is a big day for me." Eventually you have zero money, probably some minor debt, so you sell something. Maybe your old video game console that's just collecting dust in the basement anyway. No big deal. You're going to wean really soon. Time goes on, you're fucked. You try to get pills but you can't afford them and/or your pill guy is dry. He says he has bags for cheap though. You say "Not a chance. I'm not touching heroin." 3 agonizing days of miserable sickness go by. Your legs are kicking nonstop, you're puking, you're shitting, and you legitimately have never been so depressed and empty in your whole life. But your job demands your presence. Your family and friends continue to invite you to things, which are just obligations now. But, you have to keep moving so you get your first bag of heroin and snort it. You do this for weeks, months, or years. It's dirt cheap and keeps you high. You are definitely not the fun guy at the party anymore, and most of those cool, fun people who introduced you to pills are either in rehab, dead, or in jail. Eventually the snorting isn't doing it and this cheap drug is somehow getting expensive again as your tolerance builds.
This is where I thankfully stopped. Or rather, this is where I was forced to stop. I was fortunate that my family and girlfriend put me in a tough spot. They caught me with heroin red-handed and took it from me. A call was made to a family friend in the police department and the police were ready to come arrest me for possession if I didn't get in the car and go to rehab. I figured I had to be sick either way, might as well be sick in a rehab instead of a jail. I also figured I could just suffer through rehab and keep using afterward. I wanted to be free but didn't think I would ever be able to do it.
Rehab couldn't take me until the next day so I stayed at my mom's house. I crawled into her bedroom while she slept, stole my keys back, took the $40 I hid from her in the sole of my shoe, and drove to the city to get fucked up one last time. That was the last time I used, six years ago today (plus the hour and half that's passed since midnight). I was weeks or maybe days away from shooting up for the first time due to how broke and desperate I was. I had already researched it online and was mentally prepared. I had already stolen from everyone I loved, burned every bridge I had for the most part, stole painkillers out of every medicine cabinet I'd ever seen, photoshopped bills and bank statements so I could convince people who loaned me money that I was using it for the right things, overdosed while standing at the sink in my mom's house, flooding her kitchen and causing immense water damage, overdosed at work and had my night-shift boss find me on the floor, crashed my car twice while I was withdrawaling and sick, etc. I could list negative consequences all day.
Those times I overdosed and/or "fell out" were times I got fentanyl bags on accident. Never stopped me from doing them, but you used to be able to tell when it was fentanyl because you could compare it to heroin. Heroin was more euphoric and you didn't lose consciousness as often or as quickly. New users have probably never had heroin, so they can't even compare it to anything. That's my take on it anyway.
In summary, it's a very slow and insidious process most of the time. You wouldn't believe the ways you can lie to yourself, - and to others too.
I didn't even realize I had become a deeply shitty person until maybe a year or more after I got clean. I think I started to realize it at six months but now it's crystal clear to me that I was so, so sick. I was a bad person. And I was a very lucky, semi-privileged person. I didn't grow up rich, didn't have a good home life. But imagine if my mom didn't have a friend in the police department. Imagine if my mom didn't know that I would get better access to social services and Medicaid if she told the rehab I was "homeless" (since I lost my place of living and wasn't welcome at her house anymore after that day). Imagine if I was some underprivileged black kid and my various run ins with law enforcement had lead to vehicle searches (which they should have). I'll be frank with you, I don't deserve the amazing life I have right now. Or at least, I don't deserve it any more than the hundreds of thousands of other people who never got the chance to recover fully, either because they died or got slapped with a life-ruining felony for mere possession. I am so lucky and I try to earn it by being a good person these days. I'm thankful on a level you can't imagine.
It's cliche but don't do hard drugs. They're stronger than you.
Sara Jean Green
I’m curious how widespread this is across the nation. Being in my Portland bubble and how caught up we get, it’s easy to forget that is this happening elsewhere.
It seems like this was already on the way up but COVID, like a lot of things, placed it in fast-forward mode right quick.
I attend my local rehab for opiates (six years clean today!) and they said they haven't seen a single positive urine screen for heroin in over six months. Every single screen is positive for fentanyl instead, mostly among people who think they're using heroin.
People my wife and I went to school with are dropping like flies from opiates. It's an epidemic. Drug overdose is the leading cause of accidental death in the United States right now. It beats car accidents and guns combined.
So I don't really know that much about fentanyl. Is it pretty much:
Person wants to self-medicate -> uses fentanyl -> completely addicted
Nah, it rarely starts that way, if ever.
You get a legitimate prescription for an opiate painkiller after an injury. You meet a girl you really like and she gives you a pill which leads to a magical night. You're partying with friends and the coolest, funniest people in the room are popping or snorting pills with apparently no lasting effects. Take your pick.
Opiates don't instantly destroy you, but the seeds of addiction are planted early on and they're so insidious you never know they're there. The first year or so is absolute magic. No withdrawal, no cravings, you can go days, weeks, or months without thinking about them. It starts out so casual and harmless. It's so fun and easy.
You do them every few weeks on a Friday or whatever, no big deal. But eventually you do them on a Saturday. Then you do them on a Sunday during the day. Then you have a nasty cold or a really shitty task to do at work, so you grab a leftover one from last weekend and take it before work. Days or weeks go by, you do it again when that undesirable task comes up. Then you do it again the next day. Then you realize you don't really like work as much without them. You don't remember the last weekend that you didn't use them at a party or social event. You're the fun guy at the party now, but a little shadow of doubt is creeping into your subconscious as you notice you didn't save as much money this week as you normally do. You get your friends into it because you love them, and you love being high, and you want them to feel as good as you do. It's the best feeling on planet Earth and everyone deserves to feel the all-encompassing warmth of opiates.
Eventually you're out of money, still working though. You have a nasty flu that won't go away and you can't sleep. It takes you about 3 days to realize it's withdrawal. You only realize it when it goes away the next time you can afford some pills. You figure you'll just wean off of them, except you keep taking them and thinking, "Well, I'll do it tomorrow. Today is a big day for me." Eventually you have zero money, probably some minor debt, so you sell something. Maybe your old video game console that's just collecting dust in the basement anyway. No big deal. You're going to wean really soon. Time goes on, you're fucked. You try to get pills but you can't afford them and/or your pill guy is dry. He says he has bags for cheap though. You say "Not a chance. I'm not touching heroin." 3 agonizing days of miserable sickness go by. Your legs are kicking nonstop, you're puking, you're shitting, and you legitimately have never been so depressed and empty in your whole life. But your job demands your presence. Your family and friends continue to invite you to things, which are just obligations now. But, you have to keep moving so you get your first bag of heroin and snort it. You do this for weeks, months, or years. It's dirt cheap and keeps you high. You are definitely not the fun guy at the party anymore, and most of those cool, fun people who introduced you to pills are either in rehab, dead, or in jail. Eventually the snorting isn't doing it and this cheap drug is somehow getting expensive again as your tolerance builds.
This is where I thankfully stopped. Or rather, this is where I was forced to stop. I was fortunate that my family and girlfriend put me in a tough spot. They caught me with heroin red-handed and took it from me. A call was made to a family friend in the police department and the police were ready to come arrest me for possession if I didn't get in the car and go to rehab. I figured I had to be sick either way, might as well be sick in a rehab instead of a jail. I also figured I could just suffer through rehab and keep using afterward. I wanted to be free but didn't think I would ever be able to do it.
Rehab couldn't take me until the next day so I stayed at my mom's house. I crawled into her bedroom while she slept, stole my keys back, took the $40 I hid from her in the sole of my shoe, and drove to the city to get fucked up one last time. That was the last time I used, six years ago today (plus the hour and half that's passed since midnight). I was weeks or maybe days away from shooting up for the first time due to how broke and desperate I was. I had already researched it online and was mentally prepared. I had already stolen from everyone I loved, burned every bridge I had for the most part, stole painkillers out of every medicine cabinet I'd ever seen, photoshopped bills and bank statements so I could convince people who loaned me money that I was using it for the right things, overdosed while standing at the sink in my mom's house, flooding her kitchen and causing immense water damage, overdosed at work and had my night-shift boss find me on the floor, crashed my car twice while I was withdrawaling and sick, etc. I could list negative consequences all day.
Those times I overdosed and/or "fell out" were times I got fentanyl bags on accident. Never stopped me from doing them, but you used to be able to tell when it was fentanyl because you could compare it to heroin. Heroin was more euphoric and you didn't lose consciousness as often or as quickly. New users have probably never had heroin, so they can't even compare it to anything. That's my take on it anyway.
In summary, it's a very slow and insidious process most of the time. You wouldn't believe the ways you can lie to yourself, - and to others too.
I didn't even realize I had become a deeply shitty person until maybe a year or more after I got clean. I think I started to realize it at six months but now it's crystal clear to me that I was so, so sick. I was a bad person. And I was a very lucky, semi-privileged person. I didn't grow up rich, didn't have a good home life. But imagine if my mom didn't have a friend in the police department. Imagine if my mom didn't know that I would get better access to social services and Medicaid if she told the rehab I was "homeless" (since I lost my place of living and wasn't welcome at her house anymore after that day). Imagine if I was some underprivileged black kid and my various run ins with law enforcement had lead to vehicle searches (which they should have). I'll be frank with you, I don't deserve the amazing life I have right now. Or at least, I don't deserve it any more than the hundreds of thousands of other people who never got the chance to recover fully, either because they died or got slapped with a life-ruining felony for mere possession. I am so lucky and I try to earn it by being a good person these days. I'm thankful on a level you can't imagine.
It's cliche but don't do hard drugs. They're stronger than you.