60 - After you lose someone to drugs, it's easy to blame others first, then yourself and then finally you realize....

   We thought our son was clean. When I drug tested him at home, he was fine. Alan and I stumbled down the steps of the van grasping each other’s hands for support. We were in Vancouver, Canada celebrating our thirty years of marriage. How could this have happened?  While walking through the Visconti Gardens we struggled, trying to put the pieces together. Kyle had tested clean the couple times  I  had drug tested him, and he was attending the drug meetings at Kaiser and group counseling. Or was he?  I’d drop him off but did he slip out the back way like he used to do when I’d drop him off on Saturdays for Algebra tutoring when he was in high school?

   Later, one of his friends told me that after Kyle's meetings, a friend would pick him up and they’d go shoot up. Kyle had totaled another car, so he had no car.  Another one of Kyle’s friends told me that when I’d drop Kyle off, he’d slip out the back door.  Why didn't his friends ever think about calling and letting us know? Never did it cross my mind that he was sneaking out, never. His schizophrenia meds were working. The twitching had stopped.  We now had a young reasoning man in the house. He was so confident, so focused on school and what he wanted to do with his life.

   But the more we reviewed the last month, the more we realized there were signs. Kyle had told me a week before he passed way that the drug rehab meetings weren’t working. It didn’t occur to me that this was his hint of telling me he was using again. I just figured he didn’t like to go to the group meetings and share why he used, or sit there listening to the other people's stories.  I guess my brain was still in a fog from his ordeals and a daughter running off. 
    I also remembered when he came home at about 10 pm one night, and I walked into his room; he was distraught. He shared that Old Topanga Road was slippery and he had hit a tree that had fallen across the road, so he had to drive home a different way. I accused him of being on something as he looked dazed, but he swore he wasn’t. A sliver of a thought squeaked out that I needed to drug test him, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.  And then floods of thoughts hijacked my brain. What now, is his car totaled? How is he going to get to school? This time we're not moving him out, we need to keep tabs on him. We'll figure it out.  
    I felt so drained; I walked off to bed and went to sleep. I had tested Kyle twice before, and it was positive. He had me call the doctor to verify he was on some med to help lessen the withdrawal symptoms, and this is why he showed positive on the drug test.  I called, and his doc verified everything. I was sure it would happen again if I tested him, so why waste the energy.

    Even later after Kyle stopped using the opiate which helps relieve addiction symptoms, I’m sure Kyle figured out a way to trick the drug test at Kaiser. After he had transitioned and I cleaned out his dresser, I found a bottle of weight loss pills.  I knew right away he had found a method to get rid of the drug before testing. Kaiser was oblivious. He was a smart kid, just not always a wise one. Obviously, he wasn’t ready to kick his heroin habit.

   Guilt grabbed my gut as I remember a week before we left for Canada, I was sitting on the couch in our kitchen grading papers. He stood up and stretched. I noticed that his muscled torso had disappeared. I wondered if he had lost his stomach muscles from using a few months earlier? Then I thought that I shouldn't accuse him of using so I asked, “Kyle, are you eating?”

   Quickly he pulled his T-shirt down. “I keep arriving over at Henry’s after they eat.”

   “Well, maybe you should eat here before you go over. We have tons of food here.”

    He mumbled something that I can’t remember, looked at the messages on his cell than said a bit irritated, “Don’t worry about it. My friend’s waiting for me at the bottom of the driveway," and left.

    I promised myself when he returned; I’d give him a drug test. I forgot. 

    For a couple of years, Alan and I beat ourselves up with the plethora of ‘I could ofs and I should ofs.'  And we did some pointing of fingers, blaming the other person.  Within those years I learned through therapy that Alan and I had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder since we were children. Me, from moving around so much and having a dad who lost his cool way too often. But Alan had it too. His mother had a cerebral hemorrhage two months after giving birth to him. So Alan’s aunt raised him for the first three years until his dad remarried. That new mother was very demanding and a perfectionist, and like my dad,  scary for young kids. When Kyle had his breakdown, we often times walked around in a daze. We didn't know our childhood experiences would hinder us from being able to see the full picture.

   Kyle’s dozen car accidents and totaling of three cars already had kicked us both into experiencing PTSD symptoms which we were unaware of. Then once Kyle had his breakdown, we were experiencing it 24/7. I barely remembered my students’ names or what I was supposed to teach. Constantly I forgot about setting up dental or eye appointments for the family. Our brain went into protection mode, and my therapist shared that this is normal under the circumstances.  I forgave myself and Alan. And I thanked my brain for protecting me.

    The next epiphany hit Alan and I one day while talking.  We realized if Kyle wanted to stop using, he would have told us he needed to be in a full-time facility. Upon the second time, he shared with me that he was back on the black tar, Alan and I told him that we really loved him and wanted to place him in a  rehab facility full-time.  I spoke to his Kaiser psychiatrist, but the doc told us that Kyle wanted one more chance at going through the walk-in program at Kaiser.  Alan and I wonder if Kyle wanted to continue using. He wasn’t ready to buckle down and stay clean. He just wasn’t ready.