CRYSTAL METH CHRISTMAS

On Christmas Eve, I drove through downtown Victoria to see my 14-year-old
niece, Heather (not her real name). The stores had closed a few hours
before. Traffic was thin, few people were on the sidewalks. At Douglas and
Johnson the usual handful of damaged people were hanging around, perhaps
trying to stock up on the drugs they'd need to get through the holiday
weekend. What is their fix of choice, I wondered. Heroin? Cocaine? Designer
drugs? Booze or plain old weed? Or is it crystal meth?

Three weeks earlier, I learned that Heather is using meth. Her mother, my
sister, doesn't know when she started but the changes in my niece have been
rapid. And with her decline, my family and I are being drawn into a realm
we never thought would form a part of our lives. At a time when children
and families are celebrating the season with gift giving, my family and I
were unwrapping layers of fear, despair, anger, confusion and desperation
as we search for a way to save Heather.

Heather's last school picture sits on my desk. Her white blouse looks
crisp, her smile fresh. In those clear eyes you can see the intelligence of
a creative girl. The mass of curls that springs about like coiled wires is
pulled into a tight ponytail. She was active with music lessons, dance
lessons, art, trips and had many friends. But she struggled at school, with
ADHD (attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder) setting her apart, making
her learning techniques different from the other kids. A speaker at a
recent public information session on crystal meth said most of the kids
using the drug have learning disabilities. One layer of information is
unwrapped.

I learn that almost two-thirds of the teens using crystal meth in Victoria
are girls. Another layer. Most of them are creative, intelligent kids. Two
more layers. The drug helps them lose weight. Heather is already skinny,
but it may be another layer to consider. They're depressed, anxious, have
other emotional illnesses. Maybe we should dig deeper into the family's
medical history. For many other kids it's abuse, poverty and damaged
families that push them into the street and drug culture.

The reasons are complex. Whatever the reasons, the drug works fast; it's
almost instantly addictive and begins an insidious destruction of the brain
from the first inhalation, injection or swallow. It causes
seizures-"flailing," the kids call it. With every use they move closer to
devastating side effects, or death. And the kids' relationships with family
and friends, all their supports, start to not matter. They adopt a street
family, are absorbed into a culture of daily or hourly survival.

My sisters and I flounder to find the right way to connect with Heather, to
bring her back. Heather's sister cries a lot now, and thinks the situation
is hopeless. The grandparents don't know what's going on, other than that
Heather goes missing for a while. The truth would crush them, so we try to
protect them as a way of helping Heather, so that she can go to her
grandparents and not feel judged. Heather's parents consult with police,
doctors, counsellors, other parents.

I started walking the downtown streets to look for Heather. I went with
Heather's mother one afternoon. The next night one of Heather's cousins
joined me. Late another night, another sister went with me. We found her in
an alley. There were about eight kids, all in their early teens, tucked
into a corner. When we called out for Heather, she popped into view, ran
over to us. We held her, told her we love her, that we want her to come
home, to be safe. Her eyes, framed in black makeup, darted uncontrollably,
a side effect of meth. The drug and street pulled her away. We watched her
run back to them.

Crystal meth has my family in its grip. We are at a loss as to what to do
to bring Heather back. We are angry that there is so little support
available for her and other kids-detox and social services have been
drastically cut back by government. There is only one detox centre for
teens on Vancouver Island and it can't cope with the rapidly increasing
numbers of children succumbing to the dealers and temptations.

I don't know if seeking her out to talk with her for a few minutes every
few days is helping Heather feel connected with family. There are some
adults downtown watching out for her, who phone to say that they saw her,
that they bought her a meal. We are all grateful for this makeshift social
support system.

When I drove downtown on Christmas Eve, I automatically scanned the
sidewalks and doorways for Heather, even though I knew where she was and
knew that I was going to see her. As my family and I make this dark journey
with Heather, we're learning that honesty is critical. Parents have to be
honest with themselves that mistakes have been made with their children.
Other family members-aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents-have to be ready
to change the ways they interact with troubled children and each other.

Pride must be put aside. As one of my sisters said recently, a troubled
child is a very humbling experience. We are humbled. We are afraid. We are
also still hopeful. With every layer of information and emotion we unwrap
through this experience, we are searching for that one vital connection
that will save our Heather.