When the overdose crisis hits close to home
Hello friends,
I am writing this post on the eve of my friend Ben’s birthday. If he were alive, he’d be getting ready to celebrate his 55th birthday tomorrow, surrounded by family and friends. He had a lot of friends. Once, years ago, we were walking down the street. After he stopped for the umpteenth time to greet someone, he turned to me and joked: “I am the King of Kensington.”
It is probably a reference only Canadian Boomers and Gen X readers will understand, but it fits perfectly. In the popular TV sitcom, which aired from 1975 to 1980, Al Waxman played Larry King, an everyman, the King of multicultural Kensington, who was always there to bail his friends and neighbours out of a crisis.
Just like Ben.
We were roommates in the early 1990s, and friends for more than 30 years. We didn’t see each other often, especially after he moved from British Columbia to Alberta, but we made the most of the time we spent together. (No one teased me as relentlessly as Ben, and few people believed in me like he did.)
In his forties, Ben opened a laser tattoo-removal shop in Edmonton. It was a lucrative business, but he wasn’t in it just for the money. He was driven to play an active role in his beloved local tattoo community: training apprentices, supporting small businesses, and volunteering to remove negative tattoos from former neo-Nazis, gang members, and sex workers for free.
For Ben, it was important to give others the support and understanding he’d received when he was down. It is something he talks about in this news clip.
It has been two years since Ben died. For weeks after hearing the news, I struggled to accept that after 20+ years of sobriety, my friend had overdosed—and I hadn’t even known that he had relapsed. After all the love and support he’d shown me through the years, I had not been there for him when he needed help most.
When I interview people, I like to ask them what is engaging their head, their heart, and their hands. I want them to point me towards the academic research and newspaper articles they are sifting through; the artists who are shifting their perspectives; and the people and organizations they want to lift up because they are doing good work in the world.
Tonight, I am turning around and asking myself these questions. On the eve of Ben’s birthday, what do I want you to know about the opioid crisis?
Sift.
Making sense of the statistics about the opioid crisis.
The statistics are overwhelming. According to Statistics Canada, there was a total of 50,928 apparent opioid toxicity deaths reported between January 2016 and September 2024, with the majority of deaths taking place in British Columbia, Alberta, and Ontario.
It is a staggering number, one brought home by a recent art installation. At Tyee Spit in Campbell River, British Columbia, artist Ron Kerr has placed 36,000 blue flags (representing the men and boys who have died from an opioid overdose) and 14,000 purple flags (representing the women and girls who have died) into the ground. It is an emotional tribute to all who have been lost, and a resounding call to action.
Looking for a reputable, award-winning long read about the opioid crisis in North America?
Overdose: Heartbreak and hope in Canada’s opioid crisis (Benjamin Perrin, Penguin Random House Canada, 2020)
American overdose: The opioid crisis in three acts (Chris McGreal, Guardian Faber Publishing, 2019)
Shift.
Shifting narratives through literature.
Non-fiction has its place but, like many people, I often turn to literature to make sense of the world. Novels help me understand the choices I, and others, make in complex situations. And, they can help me look on others with greater empathy and compassion.
I have added the following two books to my to-be-read list on the recommendation of author and social psychologist, Shazia Omar, who discussed the nature of drug addiction and the problems associated with it on Five books in “The best novels on drug addiction.”
Like a diamond in the sky (Shazia Omar, Penguin Books India, 2017)
Moth smoke (Mohsin Hamid, Picador, 2001)
I am also adding Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver (Harper, 2022) to the list. (It has been sitting on my bookshelf for over a year, waiting. I haven’t been able to bring myself to read it, yet.)
Lift.
Take action.
The Government of Canada is taking action to address the overdose crisis and save lives. It provides government funding for projects, prevention and education efforts, evidence to inform decision-making, substance use services and supports, like increased access to treatment and harm reduction programs, and substance controls.
Learn more about:
Before you go
Would you do me a small favour? If you enjoy reading Sift. Shift. Lift. please take a moment to like, share, or comment below. Thank you.
Thank you for sharing this Shelley. I often feel stuck, unable to help this situation of widespread addiction, as I have such limited resources left after supporting my own family’s health issues. But it’s always on my mind, as we see it every day in Victoria. It’s helpful to share and to read tributes like this.
A beautiful tribute. As always you are the best guide one could hope for through a sea of material; the exact antidote to the digital excess. What a photo!