I opened the door...

I opened the door and there was blood everywhere. Where was it coming from? I was in a total state of shock.

I could not get hold of my brother, and my gut instinct told me something was wrong so I raced over to his place. And that’s when everything went crazy, scarily crazy!

My brother, John, was lying in bed surrounded by so much blood, and in an instant, I knew he was dying. Years of drug abuse, particularly heroin, had finally taken its toll and I assumed correctly that his organs were breaking down. He had been on the methadone program for the past 3 years but it was too little, too late. It just gave us peace from the lies and stealing to feed his habit for those years (for which I am grateful). He was already a very sick man when he joined the program due to his own neglect of his health.

I stepped into his room, and gently shook him awake. “John? It’s Lou, I am here to finish this journey of life with you”. He opened his beautiful eyes, smiled at me, and said “I am dying”. To which I replied “I know you are mate”. I hugged him tightly and we both sobbed. He was frightened, and so was I. He tried to tell me some silly story about where the blood was coming from so I wouldn’t be overly scared, but I knew in my heart it was his organs giving up. Sapping him of any life he had left in him.

He said to me “Lou, I don’t want to die”, and I cradled his face in my hands and said “I don’t want you to die either”, as I kissed him on his forehead.

He looked at me and pleaded with me to not ring for an ambulance but I had to! I had to fight for his life till the bitter end. The journey of drug addiction is not an easy one, not for the user, and not for the user’s family and friends, or what was left of them. Often so much damage has been done over the years, people peel away one by one. The lies, the stealing, the isolation, the non-commitment to anything, it all just tumbles into one big mess of hurt, anger and disappointment. So much negativity goes into feeding a drug habit, and the collateral damage is huge.

Some find it in themselves to forgive the addict, others cannot bare to see them or hear from them again. The drugs drive an enormous void, a wedge between those that you love, and the addict’s love of their drug of choice. Poison seeps from the drugs into their veins, and then seeps outside their body and poisons their life, their livelihood, any credibility they once had. Boom! Destruction everywhere!

As a little girl, my brother was my hero. He was so funny; I mean belly ache funny. He was a good looking kid with a cheeky glint in his eye. He had a bunch of great mates, and he was a very talented Rugby player. He had so much going for him, and in my eyes, he was the bee’s knees. The sort of brother a little girl would dream for in her sleep.

Drugs ate away all of that like a toxic disease, unstoppable in its tracks, slowly but surely ruining his life, and affecting those around him.

For some reason I forgave him time and time again. Even though I was 5 years younger I begged him to see counsellors which I went to with him. I booked him into rehabs and I’d drop him off, and pick him up. I’d pay for temporary accommodation for him when he was homeless. I even gave him money for drugs when he’d turn up on my doorstep shaking so badly from withdrawal it scared me. I was an enabler, and I couldn’t see that rather than helping him, I was his worst enemy. I inadvertently made it possible for him to keep using drugs and disappointing everyone! That was not my intention but it was all I knew how to do.

So here we finally were at the end of this very torrid, rocky and heartbreaking journey. I said to John “you can have 20 minutes with me and then I am calling an ambulance”. I crawled into bed with him to hold and hug him. I asked him what could I do for him, and he said I want a Winnie Red and a lemonade.

I got the lemonade for him, hopped back into bed and lit John a Winnie Red, and watched him inhale it with every breath of life he had left.

I said to him “were the drugs worth it”? To which he replied “no”. And then I said “how funny the last thing you want on this earth is a lemonade, when you used to drink a triple ouzo and coke in a middy glass – no ice”. We both laughed at that, and hugged each other more.

It was now time for me to call the ambulance, I needed to save him. Was I saving him for me, or was I just in flight or fright mode. I will never know.

Sirens were not far away now and the first ambulance arrived, and they said they could not do anything to help, that it was a ‘code red’ or something like that. I said “what the hell is that”, and they said “we need back up”!

More sirens and the second ambulance arrived. One of the paramedics pulled me aside and said “if your brother arrests in the ambulance, do we resuscitate him?’ I cried and he hugged me. I already knew the answer to that, as it had been discussed with my family whilst John was in hospital the week prior.

The answer was “no! he has no quality of life anymore”. It absolutely ripped my heart apart saying that but I knew deep in my soul it was the right thing to do, John was suffering too much.

The paramedics were so beautiful. They very gently put him on a gurney, and I hugged him for the last time. I whispered in his ear that I loved him, that his family loved him and that he was forgiven. He squeezed my hand and smiled and said “thank you, I love you too”.

That was the last time I ever saw him alive, he died minutes later in the ambulance but I didn’t yet know that. What would follow was an outpouring of grief, anger, relief and so many emotions all rolled up into a ball of frenzied feelings for me and my family.

To this day the sound of sirens makes my skin crawl and an overwhelming sadness hits me right in the middle of my heart! Were the drugs worth it? In the words of my brother “NO”!