Who is this?

FENTANYL from page 1 known drug. Even then, doctors don’t prescribe for themselves. And here we have a 15-year-old kid prescribing for himself. buying illegal drugs.

Matthew and I commiserated and agonized profusely over our society’s drug problems. It is a sad situation to say the least.

A few days later the problem hit home like a ton of bricks crashing through a house of glass.

Matthew’s daughter invited her boyfriend to their family home for dinner. The boyfriend had a colorful history. He had spent a few months in jail for a minor drug offense. Came out of jail and into court-ordered drug rehab. He was doing good. Working. Getting back into the swing of the good life. He and daughter were considering marriage. Daughter had some college and a job.

We must teach our children self-preservation, responsibility, integrity, duty, and civility. Children must grow up to be moral individuals. Children must learn real history, the good and the bad. Children must learn math, science, and proper English. They must learn this at school and at home. Moral fiber, we used to call it. Political parties matter not. Integrity does.

Every reader undoubtedly recognizes the legendary visage of Florence Nightingale, widely considered to be the pioneer of modern nursing. The reason we all recognize her face is that there is, for all intents and purposes, a single photograph of her, at least one that is the most wellknown by a wide margin. And the reason for that, in turn, is that she strongly objected to having her photograph taken or her portrait painted. Image makers apparently respected her wishes, because the inventory of available images is scant. Early on she wrote in her diary, “God called me in the morning and asked me would I do good for him alone without reputation.” She was not in search of fame, although it came anyway. Her first published work, in fact, was released anonymously

One thing that we’ll go out on a limb and state with certainty is that no one has ever seen an image of Florence Nightingale smiling. Instead, she usually looks very serious, if not downright sad. There’s a reason for that, too. From about 1857 onward (she was born in 1820) Nightingale suffered from depression and was often bedridden. Biographers today also believe she suffered from an extreme form of brucellosis, a highly contagious zoonotic disease caused by ingestion of unpasteurized milk or undercooked meat from infected animals, plus spondylitis, a form of arthritis affecting joints of the spine.

Despite such challenges, Florence Nightingale radically transformed nursing, basically inventing the profession we know today. Before her, hospitals were places where people went to die, not for treatment. Nurses were untrained and disreputable characters, almost exactly as they were described by contemorary chroniclers like Charles Dickens: “The Dickens character Sarah Gamp, who was more interested in drinking gin than looking after her patients, was only a mild exaggeration. Hospitals were places of last resort where the floors were laid with straw to soak up the blood,” said one historian.

Nightingale has her detractors for one reason or another, but objective observers to this day credit her with countless practices and innovations that remain standards of care to this day. Prior to the discovery of germ theory, she was a champion of strict sanitation; she was a pioneer of statistics, carefully tracking patient outcomes as a method of evaluating the efficacy of various forms of treatment; she promoted nurse training, an all-new concept, as strange as that might sound today; although she never married and is thought to have pursued a chaste life until her death at age 90 because of her religious calling to nursing, she nevertheless campaigned to abolish laws against prostitution (not because she endorsed prostitution, but because laws against it targeted women only; their customers were ignored); she created an enormously important intangible: she gave nursing a favorable reputation that it had never before enjoyed.

Florence Nightingale died in London on Aug. 13, 1910. +

After dinner, daughter used the bathroom. Boyfriend sat down on the bed. When she came out, he was laying face down on the bed. She thought it was one of his jokes. He was a funny guy. She rolled him over. He was comatose. Matthew responded with skilled CPR until the EMTs and police arrived.

The EMTs figured it was a heart attack and transported him to the ER. Continued CPR and resuscitation failed. He died. He was 36. Blood tests later shed its dark light on the real problem: fentanyl and methamphetamine overdose.

Rehab had failed. Family setting and normality had failed. He preferred to experience mind-altering drugs. Fentanyl soothes perception and increases pleasant sensations. Meth excites and increases consciousness. In his case, fentanyl won. Breathing stopped. Heartbeat stopped. All in a matter of minutes. His life was gone.

Boyfriend’s story hit home. It was local. He bought drugs he knew were illegal and not manufactured under the rigorous oversight of the FDA. The kid mentioned earlier did the same thing. Both elected to pay a few dollars for illegal drugs of unknown origin, unknown content, unknown compound(s), unknown chemistry, unknown concentration, and unknown quality. Both wanted to “get high and chill,” whatever that means. Who do we blame for these two all too common deaths? China selling precursor drug compounds to Mexican cartels? Cartels manufacturing fentanyl and meth for export to the US? “Undocumented workers” hauling drugs across the border? Drug wholesalers buying in bulk and suppling distributors? Street dealers selling pills in small amounts to anyone who can walk a dark street or use a cellphone in a suburban home? Or our government’s open borders letting in over 5,000 unknown people per day?

Neither you nor I can alter any of the above.

But we do have a responsibility herein. Cartels won’t smuggle drugs if they can’t sell them for high profits. End users must stop

No one ever failed to get a job (or lost a job) because he knows the Three R’s. Because he has good manners. Because he respects others. Because he is sober. Because he is drug free. Because he has a skill. Because he refuses to use profanity. Because he doesn’t bully. Because he respects women. Because he supports his children. Because he obeys traffic laws. Because he doesn’t steal. Because he is honest. Because he is truthful. (“He” is used to indicate both male and female.)

Each adult is responsible for himself. If you don’t buy or consume illegal drugs, you will not overdose and die. Don’t play the blame others game. We must make sure our kids grow up to know and embody this simple but profound concept.

One of the most beautiful girls I have ever known said she liked “pleasant opioid feelings.” She was introduced to opioids secondary to a car crash and fractures in her neck. When she could no longer get them legally, she went into an outpatient rehab program and was prescribed buprenorphine. The treatment was successful. No street drugs. But the desire for altered mental states through opioids lingered. The doctor thought that ill-advised, and continued the successful treatment.

She changed doctors. Moved to a bigger city where things were more available. Two years later she was 28. She was still beautiful. She was also dead. Guess why? Overdosed on meth and fentanyl. Have you heard that story before? It happens everywhere.

Most likely you know someone on this Road to Destruction. Do something about it. The question is not: CAN YOU HELP? The question is: WILL YOU HELP? Show them normal, drug free life. Direct them into rehab programs. Church sponsored programs can help, and are often free. Get professional help.

Don’t give me this “I got a head full of doubts” cop out. Don’t blame everyone else.

Adults are responsible for themselves. Parents are responsible for their children. Adults must live right to teach their children to live right. All it takes is time and dedication on your part. This is how you pay rent for your room on Earth.

Failing that, you and yours might be the subject of a future column. No one wants that. Certainly not me. I don’t like how I feel while I write about such profound sadness.

BY J.B. COLLUM

Loss is something we all eventually have to deal with, but the older we get, we typically have to become a lot chummier with it. It comes in lots of forms. Some major, like when loved ones die or when abilities we once had fade. The minor losses might be from when stores and restaurants we frequented and assumed would live on past our lifetime bow to the pressure of disruptive changes. Brick and mortar bookstores and record stores give way to online versions. Even the books, records, tapes, DVDs, and CDs go from being real things you can hold in your hand, to ethereal versions of themselves that can disappear without a trace at the whim of the provider, or after their technology becomes obsolete. I remember wearing out cassette tapes of my favorite bands and having to buy another copy. They could also get damaged or erased if they got close to a magnet. They took up a lot of space too. In that sense, and a few others, I like that I don’t have to keep up with a music, movie, or book collection in racks, cases, or shelves, but there are distinct disadvantages too.

What happens when the power or internet is out? How do we watch a movie then? How do we listen to music? Of course, there are ways to get around some of these issues, but lately I have been buying old TV shows and movies on DVD and Blu-Ray. We have backup power, so I can still watch a classic movie when the internet and power are out. I mean, at our age, when the power goes out we don’t instantly think of the thing that leads to the baby boom that follows nine months after a long-term power outage. We might, but if we do, it probably won’t occupy enough of our time to get us through the darkness. Without power, I can still enjoy a real book too. No batteries required.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to sound like a Luddite or an old fogey. My job involves new technology and I have always been fascinated by the latest high tech. That said, I do sometimes look longingly back at simpler times and see some of the drawbacks to our increasingly complex world. I also worry about how it is re-shaping young minds in ways that aren’t all good. This is especially on my mind now as we are raising our three grandchildren. The teenager in the group is attached by the eyeballs and fingers to her phone. We have tried to coax her into being more balanced and have therefore instituted some rules about not bring the phone to the dining room table when we are eating, among others. So as not to be a hypocrite, I also leave my phone on the bar, out of sight and reach while we eat now. I don’t like having to make hard and fast rules, but I believe that children need them.

When it comes to the loss of businesses, it seems to hit me harder than I would expect. It isn’t just about that store or restaurant. It is about the memories you have there of the people you loved and have lost. It is about a connection to the younger you who looked at some of these places with wonder, or the warmth that accompa-