[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 162 (2016), Part 12]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages 16720-16722]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




     RECOGNIZING FAMILIES AFFECTED BY THE NATIONAL OPIOID EPIDEMIC

                                 ______
                                 

                           HON. ANN M. KUSTER

                            of new hampshire

                    in the house of representatives

                       Thursday, December 8, 2016

  Ms. KUSTER. Mr. Speaker, it is my honor to include in the Record 
today the personal stories of families from across the country that 
have been affected by the opioid and heroin epidemic. In the U.S. we 
lose 129 lives per day to opioid and heroin overdose. In my home state 
of New Hampshire I have learned so many heartbreaking stories of great 
people and families who have suffered from the effects of substance use 
disorder.
  Earlier this year, my colleagues and I were joined by many of these 
courageous families who came to Washington to share their stories with 
Members of Congress and push for action that will prevent overdoses and 
save lives. Since then, we passed both the Comprehensive Addiction and 
Recovery Act and the 21st Century Cures Act to provide much needed 
funding and critical policy changes to fight this epidemic.
  The advocacy of these families truly is so important to leading to 
change is Washington and I am proud to preserve their stories.


                    Antonio Luconi--Pompton Plains,
                               New Jersey

       On Sunday, March 20, 2016, Antonio ``Ant'' Luconi, lost the 
     biggest fight of his life at the age of 28--to the disease of 
     opioid addiction. Drug addiction does not discriminate--it 
     ruins the lives of good people. When Ant died, the world lost 
     a son, brother, Godfather, cousin, grandson, nephew and 
     friend. Their loyal, handsome, funny, loving, Ant added so 
     much to the lives he touched: He had a ``tough guy'' exterior 
     and had the world's biggest heart. Ant never failed to say, 
     ``I love you.''
       Ant died nineteen days after being discharged from 
     treatment. He was excited to start his life over, make his 
     family proud and pursue his new life goals. He did not want 
     to die. He had plans. Big plans. ``28 is my year,'' he said.
       At the age of 21, Ant began recreationally using Percocet, 
     which progressed to Roxicet. He ingested both by crushing the 
     pills and snorting them. As his addiction progressed, so too 
     did his tolerance and the cost of supporting his addiction. 
     As a result, Ant turned to snorting heroin, which was less 
     expensive. While attending an intensive outpatient program, 
     another patient taught him how to use a needle to inject 
     heroin.
       Over the course of seven years, Ant made numerous attempts 
     to get clean. He detoxed on his own and under medical 
     supervision. He attended intensive outpatient programs and 
     worked with therapists. Ant's belief that he could conquer 
     this disease on his own led to a disastrous end.
       Ant was open and honest throughout his addiction. He spent 
     numerous hours with his sister discussing his disease. She 
     believed in Ant and named him the Godfather to her daughter. 
     There were many nights when Ant's mother held him in her arms 
     as he cried, apologized, and pleaded for help to end the 
     nightmare of addiction--to become whole again. Ant's family 
     encouraged him time after time to get help, but in 
     retrospect, they did not fully understand the severity of the 
     situation.
       After accepting that his addiction had completely taken 
     over his life and that death was a real possibility, Ant 
     decided to go to an inpatient treatment program. Can you 
     imagine the relief Ant's family felt at hearing this news? 
     While attending the recovery center in Florida, Ant became a 
     favorite patient. During weekly conference calls with Ant and 
     his treatment team, the connectors reported on his progress 
     with sincere optimism, ``Finally, someone who gets it and 
     works the program. What a great guy. We know Ant will be a 
     success story.'' He was chosen as group leader, which meant 
     he was in charge of morning check-in meetings. Some of the 
     most challenged men in the program sought Ant's advice and 
     friendship. Ever a ``man's man,'' he made everyone feel 
     important and was loyal to a fault.
       When Ant arrived home after completing the program, he was 
     proud of his progress and confident in his new life, but the 
     fear of relapse was constant: ``I cannot wait to just live in 
     the moment again.'' Ant shared with his family a letter that 
     he wrote to heroin. The first sentence read, ``I am saying 
     goodbye because you have made me someone I am not, my life is 
     now unmanageable, you destroy all good things in my life. I 
     hate you.''
       Ant's counselors in Florida set up an intensive outpatient 
     program for him to help him transition upon arriving home. 
     But when Ant attended the scheduled assessment, he was 
     declined admittance because a family member was already 
     enrolled in the program. Given that Ant was in such a 
     vulnerable time in his recovery, they should have made sure 
     that he was enrolled in another intensive outpatient program 
     before he left the building. Lack of continuity of care 
     turned out to be a life or death situation.
       Ant needed to stay in a program and continue to receive 
     support but they turned him away. Ant was unable to get an 
     assessment at another intensive outpatient program for a week 
     and a half. Here was a man who was begging for help, had made 
     the decision to change his life and was failed horribly by 
     our system. This was not unfamiliar--if you only knew how 
     many times Ant's family drove him from detox to detox only to 
     be turned down by each one due to insurance issues and a lack 
     of available beds.
       Ant's mother and sister want things to change. They want 
     more resources to be available for people who have that 
     moment of clarity and decide to get help. They want someone 
     to pick up the phone on a Sunday night when a person 
     struggling with addiction decides to seek information about 
     how to get into detox. The horrible alternative means a 
     person wanting help has to wait until morning and continue to 
     use in order to combat the withdrawal symptoms. That ``one 
     more time'' hit could take their life.
       Ant's family is left with massive holes in their hearts 
     that will never be healed. Their souls are devastated. Ant 
     put up one hell of a fight. He was supposed to start a new 
     job the day after he died. His family was rooting for him 
     then and remain proud of him today. They were never ashamed 
     or embarrassed about Ant's struggle. They believe that it was 
     the system that failed him.
       Ant's family wants to help bring awareness to the fact that 
     this disease has reached epidemic levels and needs to be 
     stopped. Too many young lives have been taken. Too many 
     people that they know personally. If anything can be done to 
     remove the stigma associated with a disease that does not 
     discriminate between class, color, race, or religion, then 
     Ant will not have died in vain. Ant's family always felt that 
     he was destined to do big things Perhaps this is Ant's 
     legacy.


                   michael marcell--wittman, maryland

       The mother of two wonderful, loving boys, Louis and Michael 
     Marcell, never dreamed that addiction would devastate her 
     family as it has. This was not the life that she imagined 
     when she became a mother. The grief and devastation of losing 
     a child is unbearable and if her family's story can prevent 
     just one family from dealing with this disease alone, she 
     feels she will have made a difference.
       Michael was always quiet and shy. He struggled in classes 
     and was bullied during his formative years in school. When 
     Michael was 16 years old, he became depressed and more 
     withdrawn. His parents tried several

[[Page 16721]]

     times to get him help through the school system but to no 
     avail. By the time Michael was a junior in high school and 
     had failing grades, his parents made the difficult decision 
     to withdraw him from school. Michael was determined to 
     graduate high school, so he decided to take GED classes and 
     he passed.
       Michael enjoyed working with his hands and found his 
     calling in carpentry work. He also loved skateboarding, 
     snowboarding, and spending time with his friends and brother. 
     He was drawn to nature and had an old soul. Around the age of 
     17, Michael began experimenting with alcohol and marijuana. 
     His mother was concerned but thought Michael was just going 
     through a phase. A few days before Michael's death, he told a 
     friend that he needed help. Michael's mother didn't know the 
     extent of his addiction until it was too late; never able to 
     get him the help he so desperately needed.
       Michael died on December 7, 2008, within days of 
     celebrating his 18th birthday. He went to a party the night 
     before and because of an argument going on at home, Michael 
     decided to stay at the party overnight. That was the last 
     time Michael's mother saw her son. On December 7th, the 
     police came to Michael's home to tell his mother that Michael 
     was gone and died of an accidental overdose of alcohol and 
     oxycodone. Michael's mother remembers that moment as if it 
     was yesterday.
       If Michael's family had the tools and knowledge about 
     addiction that they have today when Michael was struggling, 
     they feel they might have been able to save him.


                 theo marinescu--east hampton, new york

       If there is anything worse than losing a child, it is 
     losing a child to a drug overdose because grief is often 
     accompanied by judgment and blame. For parents, it is a gut-
     wrenching thing to watch your child suffer at their own hand.
       Losing a child to addiction means you didn't get to say 
     goodbye. It means that (if you are brave enough to be 
     truthful about the cause of death) every day you have to deal 
     with the stigma that surrounds addiction. You question every 
     decision--you look for what you did wrong, what you didn't 
     say, why you didn't have the sense that something was wrong. 
     You look back over the years and dissect each part of their 
     life--scanning for clues. You look for places to lay blame 
     but mostly you blame yourself. You find an online group of 
     parents just like you, where there is no judgement and 
     everyone has the same questions and feels the same pain. You 
     force yourself to read the coroner and toxicology report 
     hoping there is an answer there. And you cry--a lot.
       Theo was 25 years old when he lost his life to a fatal 
     combination of heroin and fentanyl. Theo was a warm, open, 
     loving, bright, intelligent and handsome man. He had a huge 
     laugh and a fabulous smile. Theo was an outstanding athlete 
     and won many trophies and awards. He played linebacker in 
     football and loved the sport. He was also gifted 
     intellectually and an honor roll student in high school. Theo 
     lived with wild ambition and no regrets.
       Theo was a brilliant storyteller and always found a way to 
     make you laugh. He seemed to make friends wherever he went 
     and in turn, he made everyone feel welcome. Theo loved his 
     little brothers with all his heart. He was a loyal friend to 
     many.
       Theo was very close to his family. Even during his years of 
     drug use, Theo and his mother never became distant from each 
     other. At times, it was torturous for his mother, but the one 
     thing that was always apparent was that Theo loved his family 
     and his family loved him--no matter what.
       Theo started smoking marijuana during his later years of 
     high school. Theo's mother never imagined that his drug use 
     would progress to pills and then, cocaine. Theo's family 
     believes his addiction started about seven years ago, but 
     it's hard to say for certain because this disease entered 
     their home slowly and quietly. Over the course of those seven 
     years, Theo experimented with a variety of drugs, including 
     his final drug of choice, opiates. He tried hard to stop many 
     times. Theo felt broken and guilty for the hurt he inflicted 
     on his mother and little brothers. He once wrote about the 
     ``fairytale life'' that he had screwed up so badly, and 
     towards the end of his life Theo's self-esteem was completely 
     eroded. He always took responsibility for what he did.
       When his behavior started to hurt the ones he loved the 
     most, Theo decided it was time to do something about it. On 
     September 30; 2014, Theo called Violeta crying and asking for 
     help. It was the first time he admitted to being addicted to 
     drugs. Although his mother was shocked and heartbroken, 
     Violeta didn't criticize him because she knew he was hurting. 
     Theo said he hated living in addiction: ``Mom, please help 
     me! I will do anything to get out from this hole . . .''
       Theo shared with Violeta about how having a little fun at 
     the age of 17 had escalated into a full-blown drug addiction. 
     Theo felt alone despite the fact that he had so much love 
     from his mother and so many others. Soon after his 
     conversation with his mother, Theo entered a treatment 
     facility.
       Violeta reached out to a person at the treatment facility 
     for information on how she could best support Theo during his 
     time there. The man said, ``Theo is the most motivated person 
     I have ever worked with.'' He said that Theo's desire to 
     improve his life and his appreciation for the littlest things 
     made him stand out. He told Violeta, ``If every person I 
     tried to help had 10% of his motivation, a lot of families 
     would sleep better at night.''
       Theo was motivated to get better but the system failed him. 
     Theo's lack of health insurance prevented him from attending 
     any dual diagnostic programs, especially those out-of-state, 
     which limited his options for treatment. The available 
     programs weren't able to address Theo's lack of confidence 
     and ongoing feelings of letting people down. He needed 
     intensive substance abuse treatment and to be properly 
     evaluated for mental health issues. Theo was limited to one 
     thirty-day inpatient program and then bounced around to 
     several sober living homes, one of which he was kicked out of 
     for using Facebook.
       Theo was clean for about seven months when he relapsed. As 
     a consequence, the halfway house where he was staying kicked 
     him out in the middle of the night with a heavy bag of his 
     possessions, no money and nowhere to go. Throwing people out 
     of rehab or a sober living house for displaying the very 
     symptom of their disease is nonsensical and dangerous. For 
     Violeta's son, it was the perfect storm.
       Theo was in Florida and his family lived in New York. After 
     he spent two days on the streets, his family found help and 
     sent Theo to a treatment center in South Carolina. At the 
     time, Theo's mother didn't know that this facility also 
     admitted drug dealers who were forced by law to be there as 
     part of their probation. Being forced to go to rehab is a 
     very different thing than going willingly. In the treatment 
     center, one person who was dealing drugs gave Theo and two 
     other patients drugs for free.
       The treatment center kicked them out when the drug use was 
     discovered. One week later, Theo was found dead after having 
     used drugs from the same dealer he met at the treatment 
     center. Theo died in a shady motel room. The drug dealer is 
     still on the streets.
       The current system in the United States for treating people 
     with substance use disorder is incredibly broken. People are 
     dying from this disease. The numbers are appalling--about 
     47,000 people die from drug overdose annually. That is more 
     than the number of Americans who are killed in car accidents 
     and gun violence combined. Half of those drug-related deaths 
     are due to opiate drug abuse.
       There has been a lot of talk, some media attention, but 
     little action to fight this epidemic which shows no signs of 
     abating. Legislation languishes, insurance companies still do 
     not provide the coverage necessary for adequate treatment, 
     and the shame and stigma of addiction continues.
       Watching a child battle with addiction is like a roller 
     coaster. Parents learn to be hypervigilant, living always 
     with fear. Parents have hope as well--as long as your child 
     is alive, you have hope that he or she will get better. 
     However, the sound of the phone ringing at night makes your 
     heart sink. Your child's potential death is always in the 
     back of your mind.
       That fateful day for Theo finally came on May 17, 2015.
       Friends flew across the country to be at Theo's funeral. 
     Incredible sadness about how his death might have been 
     prevented permeated the air. Because of the embarrassment he 
     felt, Theo never asked his friends for help.
       All Violeta has of Theo are memories and of course his 
     clothes and a few other personal objects. It's hard to hold a 
     grave marker. What she misses most about her son is his 
     affectionate nature, his great sense of humor, and the little 
     things like hearing his feet bouncing up and down the stairs, 
     the smell of his cologne--everything.
       Children are supposed to bury their parents. Parents are 
     not supposed to bury their children.
       Not a day goes by that Violeta doesn't think about who her 
     son would have been, what he would look like, his wedding, 
     his children--the bleeding never stops. There will always be 
     an empty chair--empty room--an empty space in every family 
     picture. Time can't fill the space. Gone is still gone.
       When you lose a child, nothing is ever the same again. 
     Every facet of your life has a memory of your child. Every 
     room in the house, every trip in the car, a song, a picture, 
     a book, a walk in the park. There is a hole in your heart 
     that will never be filled. You search and search for answers 
     that just aren't there.
       To children who hear this story: you are loved and have so 
     much to give to the world. The temptation to abuse any kinds 
     of drugs is very real, but the courage to resist that 
     temptation is also very real. Ask for help.
       To parents--the advice is this: get informed and learn as 
     much as you possibly can about addiction early on. Talk 
     honestly about the risk factors of becoming addicted by 
     experimenting with drugs. Talk about family history of 
     alcohol or substance abuse. Show them your love, no matter 
     what.
       Death is not a time for blame, it is a time for reflection. 
     We must get loud for the stigma and shame to end. In its 
     wake, it is time

[[Page 16722]]

     to speak. It's time to stop pretending that substance use 
     disorder is a choice and it's time to stop shaming people who 
     struggle with it.
       10/7/1989-5/17/2015


             joseph (joey) martin--yucca valley, california

       Joseph (Joey) Martin was born on October 30, 1990. Growing 
     up, Joey was a happy child. He was very outgoing, he had many 
     friends, and he loved to be around them, his family, and his 
     dog. Whenever Joey walked into a room he always captured the 
     attention of others with his contagious smile and laughter. 
     He loved all outdoor activities and looked forward to the 
     days he and his father would go fishing. He was also 
     passionate about baseball and skateboarding and he was very 
     good at both. Joey was smart, had plans for his future, and 
     had a beautiful heart. Every year he would volunteer at the 
     annual Special Olympics bowling tournaments; he always had a 
     special place in his heart for helping those with special 
     needs. As Joey's parents, we had high hopes for his future 
     and knew he would succeed in life. Unfortunately, his dreams 
     slowly deteriorated as his addiction progressed.
       At the age of 14 or 15, Joey was caught smoking marijuana. 
     His parents did what any concerned parent would do in this 
     situation: they kept a close eye on him, his friends, and his 
     activities. They thought they were always one step ahead of 
     his addiction. Joey's grades were good and he started playing 
     baseball again.
       In 2007, Joey and four friends were in a car accident. They 
     were hit head on by a drunk driver, who had been racing on 
     the wrong side of the road. Despite the terrible injuries 
     received, and by God's grace, everyone lived. The following 
     six years of Joey's life were spent going from doctor to 
     doctor trying to relieve the source of the pain he had been 
     complaining about.
       As the years went by, Joey's need for a more powerful drug 
     grew. His addiction was fueled by doctor prescribed pain 
     medication. When Joey turned 18 years old, he was able to get 
     almost anything he wanted from doctors. If Joey ran out or 
     couldn't get drugs from doctors, he would get them from 
     people he knew. By 19, Joey had a real problem--the need to 
     relieve his pain turned into the need to get high. He spent 
     the next three years in and out of treatment centers and 
     sober living facilities.
       In 2012, Joey enrolled into a treatment center in Loma 
     Linda, CA and was living in the suggested sober home not far 
     away. When Joey was six months clean, he decided he was ready 
     to come back home. We were very hopeful that Joey was finally 
     on track to living a sober lifestyle. Unfortunately, like 
     many young individuals today, Joey did great until he met 
     with a supplier and relapsed.
       Shortly after his relapse, Joey contacted the previous 
     house manager of the sober living facility in California and 
     asked if he could go back. Three months later, on January 11, 
     2013, Joey died of an overdose. He was just 22 years old.


                       anthony martinez--gaffney,
                             south carolina

       Anthony was set free from his toxic battle with addiction 
     on May 24, 2016. Anthony was his family's Christmas present--
     born on December 25, 1987.
       Anthony yearned for a life of love and peace--a life 
     without pain. Anthony was a lover of music; you could always 
     count on him to know the latest and greatest tracks. He was 
     passionate about cooking and often volunteered to make 
     everyone dinner. When he did, every plate was licked clean. 
     Anthony also loved being outdoors and whenever he had spare 
     time, you could bet he was fishing, hunting or simply 
     enjoying himself in some beautiful place.
       Anthony always said things straight--he wouldn't sugar coat 
     a single thing. He was a loyal friend; if you needed his help 
     he would be there no matter what. He knew how to make the 
     most pessimistic person crack a smile. In some ways, Anthony 
     embodied the saying that the saddest soul is the one trying 
     to make everyone else smile.
       The disease of addiction is a merciless, non-discriminatory 
     devil. The loss of Anthony has created a sore on his family's 
     heart that will never heal.


                 derrick marttila--cape coral, florida

       Derrick grew up in Cape Coral, Florida. From a young age 
     Derrick was very special. He enjoyed playing football, 
     hockey, and excelled at karate. However, his biggest passion, 
     which followed him into adulthood, was music. Derrick would 
     write, play and listen to music every day. His mother, 
     Kathlen, proudly watched her son grow up to be a man any 
     mother would be very proud of. Sadly, she also had to watch 
     him so bravely battle the disease of addiction. Derrick would 
     always say he just wanted to be ``normal.'' On January 16, 
     2016, Derrick lost his battle to an accidental overdose of 
     heroin laced with Fentanyl. Derrick was 26 years old.
       Derrick was an incredible person with a huge heart. He 
     loved his family and friends and would do anything for them 
     when they were in need. Derrick was a hard worker that 
     strived to be the best he could possibly be. Derrick was 
     loyal almost to a fault--he never wanted to let anyone down.
       What is missed most about Derrick, is his larger-than-life 
     personality. He loved to laugh and make others do the same. 
     Derrick had a great sense of humor, complete with a trademark 
     smirk and witty comebacks. He could light up a room with his 
     laughter or suck you into a discussion about his obsession 
     with conspiracy theories.
       Regardless of the occasion he would always keep his family 
     laughing. Kathleen has always been proud of her son and 
     admired his strength in his battle against this horrible 
     disease.

                          ____________________