Treatment Gap for Teen Addicts (Part 2 of 4)

STRUGGLE FOR PARENTS IS OFTEN PAINFUL

When Tim Brown became a police officer, he never thought he would have to
arrest his own son. But nearly a year ago, that is what happened.

After a night of using crack, coke, pot and acid, Brown's son, Chris,
overdosed and nearly died. His arms flailed wildly. He yelled. Kicked.
Hallucinated.

"I've been a cop for 26 years and I've never seen a kid so bad," said
Brown, who now works as a school resource officer in Simi Valley. "If we
didn't get him help, he would have been dead."

Chris, now 18, spent a few hours in the emergency room, and the next
morning landed at Anacapa by the Sea, a psychiatric hospital in Port Hueneme.

Tim Brown and his wife Edna, who live in Simi Valley, are among thousands
of Ventura County parents struggling to help their children overcome
substance abuse problems.

Month after month, parents attend support-group meetings and therapy
sessions and spend thousands of dollars on rehab programs. They search for
more intensive treatment, and often send their kids away to other states
for help.

Night after night, they fall asleep crying, wondering how their kids turned
from soccer players or ballet dancers into drug addicts. Meanwhile, their
teenage children are out late shooting heroin and popping ecstasy. Getting
high. Getting arrested. Getting hurt.

"This is a family problem," said Edna Brown, who served as a PTA president
while Chris was young. "A lot of parents aren't willing to admit that. They
think it's a kids' problem."

Chris' spiral toward addiction started when he was 13, after he dislocated
his shoulder and had to quit playing sports. The energetic middle school
student became more sullen, his grades dropped, and he began spending
afternoons in his room.

Much of the time he smoked pot behind his bedroom door. Then he sniffed air
freshener fumes from an aerosol can.

The Browns just thought he was depressed. It's a tough transition, they said.

But when Tim Brown found a wet towel soaked with air freshener, he became
suspicious and confronted his son. Chris told him he was trying to get his
room to smell better.

"Gullible as I was, I believed it," Tim Brown said. "We as parents are very
stupid.'

Chris, a hefty teen with a deep laugh, soon moved onto speed. He lost
weight. Black circles formed under his eyes. Paranoia overtook him. He
heard voices and shaved his head to hide his identity.

When Chris turned 15, he asked for help. So his parents scrounged up $4,000
to send him to Anacapa by the Sea, where he spent 10 days. They still
denied Chris' addiction, saying that he was just experimenting. It's just a
phase, they said. He will outgrow it.

He didn't.

Chris relapsed after just a few months. So two more weeks at Anacapa. Six
months sober. Then another relapse. He got high as often as he could, and
wherever he could--at home, at work, at friends' houses, in his car. On
average, he spent $300 a week. He burned through his allowance and the
money he earned at work. And he stole from his parents.

Edna said her son was like a firecracker when he was on speed. Anything
could set him off, and he would become violent--toward her, toward his
father, toward himself.

The Browns spent every day scared that their son would end up dead. When
Chris was 17, he cut his wrist so deeply that it wouldn't stop bleeding.
One more week at Anacapa, this time for attempted suicide. Three days sober.

Then came the overdose that made Chris go clean and sober--for good. That
was the night last year when he flipped out at a friend's house and had to
be restrained by his father and another police officer.

"That was the scariest night of my life," Tim Brown said.

Every day for the next three months Chris went to rehab sessions--90
meetings in 90 days. His parents went along to many of them. At first they
were ashamed and embarrassed. After all, she was a teacher's aide and he
was a former DARE officer. They were known in the community.

Counselors say family involvement is critical, and that teens rarely reach
sobriety without the help of their parents.

Now, Chris has been sober for more than 10 months. He graduated from high
school, is working full time and taking a class in psychology at Moorpark
College.

He recently received his nine-month sobriety chip at an ACTION meeting in
Simi Valley, but his father still occasionally gives him a urine test, and
worries that Chris will relapse again."I am so scared that one thing is
going to set him off," Tim Brown said. "Hopefully, he'll hang in there."