Living with Addiction
- Tracey Davis

- 18 hours ago
- 3 min read
For approximately four years I watched my son struggle with drug addiction. If I’m honest with myself, I probably denied that it was a problem for four years prior to that. When he was in the thick of it, I wouldn’t hear from him for days. I wouldn’t see him, and when I did, he looked drawn, tired, and unwell. When I didn’t hear from him I would worry wondering where he was. Was he hurt? Was he dead? I didn’t know until he showed up needing something from me, angry when I wouldn’t give it to him. To add to the worry, he was a father to a toddler. I saw the environment she was living in. It was hard for me to accept and to witness.

I joined AlAnon. I received counseling from an addictions counsellor trying to make sense of it all. I had a close friend whose daughter struggled with addictions for many years as well and was familiar with what I was experiencing. It was a statement Sherry* made that stuck with me. She said that I need to be prepared to hear that my son is dead.
Woof. That was a difficult thing to hear. He didn’t have cancer. He didn’t have ALS. He didn’t have any other terminal illness that normally comes to mind when we have to prepare for someone’s death. He wasn’t palliative.
Or was he? When we consider the definition of palliate, to make a disease or symptoms less severe or unpleasant without removing the cause, couldn’t we consider addiction as requiring palliative care? And subsequently the individual struggling with the mental health condition of addiction and their families benefitting from palliative and hospice care?
Being the parent of a person with an addiction is a very isolating and lonely place to be. Steven was raised in a good home. He went to a good school. He was a happy, funny, engaging kid. When he became a teenager, it took a very different turn. As parents of people with addictions, we blame ourselves. All parents blame themselves for how their kids turn out, good or bad.
As the parent of a person with an addiction, it is so shameful. It is so hard listening to other parents talk about their kids succeeding in sports, in school, and starring in the school play. You dread the moment someone asks about your kid. “How’s Steven doing?! What’s he been up to lately?” You can’t very well answer, “Well, I found him passed out in his bedroom the other day, take out containers and drug paraphernalia strewn about. Oh, and my granddaughter was spending time there! Her diaper was full of poop, and she was eating moldy bread.” You don’t get many follow-up invites after that.
So what role would a death doula play in this scenario? In my opinion, the same role as they would in the life of someone with a terminal cancer diagnosis. We talk with the individual suffering from addiction and support them in conversations about who they want to help them if they can no longer help themselves. We can talk about who they want to be called when they end up in an emergency. We can support the families and listen to them. We can connect them with the appropriate resources to help support them when they need specialized support. At the very least, we can see them. We can see the individual struggling with the addiction, and we can see their families.
Steven is three years clean. He has a job. He sees his daughter and is a good dad. He’s in a relationship that appears to be a positive one. I am so fortunate that we are living as we are today. I am very blessed to be travelling down this path. So many addicts and families don’t get to experience this path. The further down the path we travel, the safer I feel, but I am fully aware that it can change in a heartbeat.
As death doulas, we provide palliative and hospice care without walls. We listen. We do what we can to alleviate the suffering and symptoms when we can’t remove the disease:in this case, the disease of addiction.
*names have been changed to respect privacy and confidentiality
---
Tracey is a graduate of the HHA death doula certificate program. She lives in Saskatchewan and owns an ice cream shop in the summer and provides coaching services focusing on life's transitions.





Comments