I Buried My Two Sons in 15 Months. I Implore Parents to Be Prepared

This has been a particularly troublesome year. After two inpatient stays, you were ultimately therapeutically discharged—which is really “code” for we can’t help you anymore. The evening after your discharge it was very quiet in the house.

This was during the time that dad had just been diagnosed with leukemia and was in the hospital for induction chemotherapy, 90 year-old grandpap and I were the only family home.

I kept thinking it was a little too quiet, so I went into the kitchen just to check things out and I almost tripped over your crumbled body on the floor.

You were face down with your limbs in awkward positions. You looked like a marionette puppet that the puppeteer had dropped.

It was dark, but as I turned your head I could see that your lips were dark blue. You were not breathing. I screamed for grandpap to get my emergency kit for the Narcan.

I immediately tried to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but I struggled and could not get your mouth open. I knew from past experience with you that I could do mouth-to-nose resuscitation, so I quickly started doing that.

I remember saying out loud “Oh… NO… NO… NO…”

I don’t remember if I checked for a pulse, but you were not coming around, so I started doing chest compressions then breathing, compressions then breathing.

“Call 911 now!”

Grandpap brought the emergency kit. I gave you one dose of Narcan. You were not yet coming around. I kept working at reviving you as I heard the police and EMTs charging through the front door.

You had just started to make breathing efforts but you were not yet responsive. They gave you a second dose of Narcan and suddenly your eyes were open and you were wondering why you were on the floor with strangers hovering over you.

I heard the police laughing and one saying: “Hey, haven’t we been here before?”

You were startled and mortified. Yet, I was full of adrenaline and was so full of anger and disappointment.

I was yelling, “How could you?” and “One day out of rehab!”

One of the female EMTs turned to me and scornfully said: “Mam, can you keep your voice down? I’m trying to do my job here.”

With that, my private thoughts were raging: Oh you’re trying to do your job, really? Well, as his mother I just did your job. Do you have any idea what it’s like to do CPR on your son and know that as a doctor you brought back many other patients, but yet this time you may not get your most precious patient back to life? Well, I do know firsthand: It is the worst experience I have had in my lifetime. Bar none. The worst EVER.

Two days later, we have a repeat of the above episode, only the circumstances were far worse. You were upstairs taking a shower. The water was running a little too long. I went upstairs to check, but you had locked the bathroom door.

You did not respond to me calling your name. I then picked the lock with a nail stored above the door frame, but your collapsed body blocked my entrance.

Again, I yelled frantically for grandpap to get the emergency kit. He ran upstairs with the bag and we used his pocket knife to remove the pins from the hinges to remove the door. Once we had access, it took two doses of Narcan to revive you.

Once you awoke, you were very confused and jittery. You ran to your bedroom, opened the window, and tried to jump out of our second-story window. It took both grandpap and I each holding onto one of your limbs to prevent you from jumping.

You have cheated death so many times and I worry endlessly that one time we will not be there to save you.

***

That was an excerpt from a “cost letter” that I wrote to my son while he was at an inpatient recovery program.

In the letter, I described that overdose experience as the “worst ever.” I was wrong about that. The actual worst days ever came when I had to bury this son and fifteen months later his older brother, as both suffered accidental fentanyl overdoses.

For those keeping score, I lost both of my sons—the only children I had—to accidental overdoses in less than a year and a half.

As a doctor, I have been on a crusade for easy access to naloxone, teaching basic life support skills, and reducing social stigma regarding opioid use.

Narcan Nasal Spray, generically known as naloxone, is a nasal spray medicine that reverses an opioid overdose. It received over-the-counter approval from the FDA last year, a session that I participated in and shared my personal experiences to help get this medication into as many hands as possible.

The roadblock I experience is the people who need this information the most aren’t listening because they don’t think they need to hear what I have to say. There is also significant compassion fatigue regarding the “opioid crisis”; people are tired of hearing about it.

This is not a case of my kid having had a rare disease for which I’m now trying to raise funds and awareness.

Instead, this is a situation that all families are at risk of encountering and I have the experience of the worst circumstances of discovering my son in the process of dying.

It is now my mission to prevent other mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, or friends from experiencing the same loss I did. I have become an advocate for easily accessible naloxone nasal spray.

Just as you have a fire extinguisher in your home in case of emergency, everyone should be able to reach for this lifesaving nasal spray in the event of an unexpected opioid overdose. Having this opioid antidote readily available and knowing how to use it can revive an individual.

Imagine the terror of being in this situation with a loved one and not being prepared?

This is not a situation that you can continue to keep at arm’s length and hoping this never happens in your home.

Not having a family member with a substance use disorder (SUD) does not mean your home is safe from a drug overdose. If you have an unsecured opioid prescription or a teen prone to experimentation or emotional lability, then you have a high-risk home.

Remember too that the internet and the street supply is tainted with fentanyl, so even one dose or “One Pill Can Kill”.

Many drug overdoses occur in the home, with the remainder in public spaces. That is why we need Narcan in every home’s first aid kit and next to every AED in the U.S.

This lifesaver is available for purchase without a prescription at U.S. pharmacies over the counter and many local health departments dispense it for free. This medication also has a free online option at NextDistro.org.

We are in the midst of the worst overdose death crisis where your young family member is more likely to die of a drug overdose than they are from a motor vehicle accident.

There is no good reason to not have naloxone immediately available. I am a doctor, but you do not need to be me to save an overdose victim.

Narcan and basic rescue skills gave my sons the opportunities to reengage with treatment and another chance for me to hold them in my loving arms again. What parent or family member wouldn’t want one more hug?

Be prepared.

Dr. Bonnie Milas is a clinical professor of anesthesiology & critical care medicine at the University of Pennsylvania.

For further resources, please visit The REVIVEme site, which includes a personal video of Dr. Bonnie Milas on this topic.

All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

Do you have a unique experience or personal story to share? Email the My Turn team at [email protected].