“I moved home and had been on Methadone for two months. I didn’t do any opioids that whole time.”

In one of those moments that could have only been coordinated by God, I arrived a few minutes earlier than normal and parked where I normally do not.  I got out of my car and there she was.  Our mutual joy in seeing each other was spontaneous and overflowing.  We walked toward each other and hugged the hug of loved ones who had not seen each other in a long time.

I’d not seen her in a couple of months and was growing concerned that something had happened.  I had no way of knowing where to find her other than checking hospitals and jails.

As she beamed her delight for life in the midst of her challenges, she shared with me what she’d been doing during those missing months…

“I moved home and had been on Methadone for two months.  I didn’t do any opioids that whole time.”

I celebrated with her as did Tom and Jonathan, two men who join me on Wednesdays, and then delicately asked why she was there now…

“My dad threw me out of the house yesterday.  I had nowhere to go so I came back here where I know people.  My Methadone dose isn’t high enough and so I used opioids last night for the first time in two months and I overdosed.  (My friend here) saved me with Narcan.  That threw me into precipitated withdrawal and so I used a tiny bit more just to get over that and I overdosed again and (my friend) saved me again.”

I turned to her friend, a man I’ve come to know, and I thanked him for being there for her.  I gave him two more Narcan from my supply that had been given to me by the Medics on the Rapid Response vehicle.

She then added this…

“Prior to moving home and starting on Methadone, I was using about two bundles[1] every 24 hours.  I never overdosed.  I stopped using and started again with one packet last night and overdosed right away.”

“I wish you could have just stayed home,”  I added.

“Well, it’s better that I’m here.  My dad was touching me too much.”

**********

*****Stop reading and contemplate that statement!*****

From her understandable perspective, it’s better to live homeless doing opioids than it is to live at home.

**********

Our conversation continued for a bit and came to a natural close as she walked to the corner or “This and That Streets” so as to be picked up by some random guy who in our moments of conversation neither of us knew existed on this earth.  She was in his car within minutes.

For funding of her Medicine that she needs due to a too low dose of Methadone, her MAT medicine[2] that could save her life, she has little choice but to allow herself to be touched too much by a random guy and touch him in ways that no one should touch another except in the most intimate and committed of relationships.

If she overdoses again, will she survive?  If she survives and ends up in a local emergency room, will she be treated like a medical patient with Substance Use Disorder?

 

Dear Emergency Room Medical/Nursing/Support Staff,

If this dear soul which beams brightly even in the midst of her life's darkness should come before you in her time of crisis, please treat her as the inspirational human being made in the image of God worthy of dignity, honor, respect, and love who she absolutely is. 

Please do not be misguided if she comes to you malnourished, emaciated, and with the physical appearance of your grandmother.  Remember, she's in her twenties.

Please remember that within what you see with your eyes, there beats the young heart of a soul who wants to heal.  Her mind is in a civil war like no other civil war on this planet.  Please use your medical skills and your compassion that brought you into your chosen medical field to help her win her battle for her betterment.

Please do not allow any prejudices that may exist within you to provide anything less than excellent medical intervention for her.  Do not tell her to "Get out of my emergency room." as did one RN to another of my loved ones.  Do not tell her that you're discharging her because "We need your bed for real patients" as someone did to yet another loved one on January 3  of this year.  That one died four days later.

Please use your medical/nursing/support skills as best as is possible to connect with her and to encourage her to stay the course and stay focused on the healing that can be found.  She needs you to be her strength and guide and all mechanism of artillery to win her civil war.

In the belief that you will do so,

Chris

---

[1] That's 32 bags of heroin/fentanyl at $5.00 per bag totaling $160.00 per day requiring 5 to 10 'dates' per 24 hour cycle to have the money.

[2] Medication-Assisted Treatment - An officially recognized method of treatment for Substance Use Disorder patients

What are we missing between the sin and the cell?

Recent events have reminded me of this blog from about 4 years ago. I would encourage you to read it and help us all to identify what we are missing.

http://behealedfromemotionaltrauma.blogspot.com/2018/01/between-sin-and-cell.html

"When he was finally done..."

 "When he was finally done..." 

In the context of this blog, these are not the words of a young mother waiting for her juvenile son to finish his broccoli at the family dinner table. 

These are the words of a woman who is the same age as that young mother and who is waiting for some until very recently unknown man to finish thrusting himself inside of her in the midst of a rape or a casually agreed to encounter in the back of a pickup truck or back alley on the streets of Kensington.

She agreed to get into his vehicle with the intent of providing some lesser degree of sexual service in exchange for funding for her next supply of drugs. She has no actual interest in him nor does he for her.

She needs his money to buy the drugs that are required in the midst of her addiction that she would rather not have and he needs, well, whatever it is that he needs. 

He robs her of dignity and respect in exchange for what he needs and he provides funds for what she needs.

In the past two weeks, I've heard two women make that simple statement...

"When he was finally done..."

The first of these statements came from a woman who lived for a time so close to my childhood home that I consider her my closest actual neighbor on those streets of my younger years.

The second woman to make this statement to me happened earlier today. She's one of the original Delco 5. You've already met her in at least one previous blog. I had to Narcan her a couple of years ago.  She was taken by ambulance to Episcopal hospital where the registered nurse told her:

"Get out of my emergency room!" 

This young woman was violently raped about 3 days ago and still bears the physical scars and emotional scars.

Both of these women have had their encounters with medical professionals within the realm of Medicaid who could have guided them onto a new and healthier path. In the case of the latter, the registered nurse simply said...

"Get out of my emergency room!" 

Each and every time that a medical professional fails to provide dignity and respect-filled service in a prompt way to these men and women on the streets of Kensington, they are opening the door to further physical and emotional, and spiritual deterioration and injury.

It is way beyond time for the issues of neglect and abuse and malpractice to be addressed so as to bring substance use disorder patients back to the healing that is so desperately wanted and needed who are currently homeless and residents on the streets of Kensington.

"It's the Disease Itself."

I am adding a new feature to some of my blogs.  If you would like to ANONYMOUSLY participate in a short questionnaire about this topic, after reading this blog, I invite you to click here and share your thoughts.

**********

I pulled up to just a bit south of the intersection of 'This and That Streets.'  On this day, I had my usual water, bananas, and song sheets.  I also had apple sauce and fruit cocktails in single-serving containers thanks to "Loaves of Love."

As I glanced toward the intersection, I saw 'Susan' standing and waiting for an as of yet unknown guy to pick her up to 'do a date.'  I organized each of my items for her into an earth-friendly vanilla-scented plastic bag and walked over to her.  Two seconds earlier, a white minivan with Delaware tags pulled down 'That Street.'  Susan walked toward the passenger side.  As she did so, I called out to her from about 20 feet away and asked her if I could give her the bag.  With a smile of appreciation, she said she would be right back and to hold it for her if I was willing.  She hopped in that white minivan with Delaware tags and off they went.

True to her word, a few minutes later, she hopped out of that white minivan with Delaware tags at the corner of 'This and Another That Streets' one block south.  She slipped her new money into her pocket as she walked toward me.  I gave her the bag as the guy drove off in his white minivan with Delaware tags.

As I gave her the bag, with all the casualness of a morning conversation over coffee, 'Susan' started talking about the hazards of 'doing dates' and life on the streets in general.  The details she shared were frightening.  I asked her if the high that she gets from the drugs is so good that it makes the hazards somehow worth it.

"Absolutely Not!"  She declared. "I rarely get high anymore."  She added.

"So what keeps you doing this?"  I asked.

Her answer was amazingly simple.

"It's the disease itself."[1]

Now hold that thought for a bit…

 

The very next day, I parked right at the intersection of 'This and That Streets.'  'Susan' was standing there waiting for yet another as of yet unknown guy to pick her up to 'do a date.'  We greeted each other as I handed her another banana, water, and song sheet.  I thanked her for sharing her thoughts with me the day before.  I told her that I found her answer "It's the disease itself." to be so to the point and profound. 

I then asked her how she handles the risks to herself when dealing with potentially dangerous men while 'doing dates.'

Again, her answer caught my attention and it should you as well…

"My husband watches me as I get into each car.  He writes down the car description and license plate.  If I come up missing, he'll at least have that information to share with authorities."

Did you read that?  "My husband watches me as I get into each car…"

WOW!

What other disease requires its sufferers to 'do dates' and, in the case of a married couple, engage in open adultery while the other spouse is forced to watch her leave and take notes regarding the car in which the act of adultery will take place?

'Susan' recognizes that she has a disease.[2] 

The disease is not making this requirement of its sufferers!

When will the powers that be within the realm of Medicaid-based health care recognize these people as having a disease and begin to treat them as patients with the dignity and respect that they deserve and do so in a prompt manner?

---

[1] "Substance Use Disorder" is the official title.

[2] Her husband also has the disease and lives on the street with her.

**********

Legislative Briefing Addendum: "It’s the Disease Itself"

Case Study: Susan and the "Adultery of Necessity" Strategic Objective: To eliminate "Administrative Delay" in Medicaid-funded care by reclassifying Substance Use Disorder (SUD) as a progressive, terminal illness requiring immediate stabilization.

I. The Human Narrative: Survival Under Watchful Eyes

In this account, we witness a profound breakdown of the traditional family structure, not due to a lack of love, but due to the biological demands of a hijacked nervous system. Susan, a married woman, engages in "dates" with strangers in minivans while her husband stands nearby. He is not a passive bystander; he is a witness, recording license plate numbers in a desperate attempt to ensure that if his wife goes missing, the authorities will have a lead.

When asked if the "high" is worth the risk, Susan’s clarity is a stinging indictment of our current system: "Absolutely Not! I rarely get high anymore... It’s the disease itself." To those currently living this reality: We see the immense strength it takes to survive another day. We see the love in a husband’s watchful eye and the exhaustion in a wife’s smile. This legislation is designed to replace that license-plate notepad with a medical intake form.

II. The "Lynne’s Laws" Priority Framework

Susan’s story identifies a critical failure in the "Prior Authorization" process. We propose the following:

Priority Pillar: The Immediate Diagnostic Access Act.

• The Mandate: This law dictates that a clinical diagnosis of SUD—whether by a street medicine team, a first responder, or a social worker—serves as an Automatic Prior Authorization for immediate inpatient or stabilization care.

• The Professional Application: For the Medicaid administrator, this removes the "Waiting Game." It acknowledges that while the paperwork sits on a desk, the patient is sitting in a stranger's car. The diagnosis is the authorization.

III. The Professional Tension and Consensus

• The Supportive View: Medical professionals argue that no other terminal disease requires a patient to engage in life-threatening exploitation to manage their symptoms while waiting for a bureaucrat’s approval. They see this law as the only way to provide Prompt and Respectful Care.

• The Skeptical View (Addressing the Legislator): Skeptics worry about the "Financial Floodgates" of immediate access. However, the data shows that the cost of an inpatient bed is a fraction of the cost of a "Missing Persons" investigation, a homicide trial, or the long-term treatment of the trauma and infectious diseases inherent in the street economy.

• The Consensus: This is an Anti-Exploitation measure. By funding immediate access, the Commonwealth actively reduces crime and protects the most vulnerable members of the workforce from predatory violence.

IV. Legislative "Teeth": The Environmental Safety Standard

• The Objective Standard: Under Lynne’s Laws, "Medical Necessity" is redefined to include Environmental Risk. If a patient is forced to engage in high-risk activity (like "doing dates") to fund their physical stability, they are legally classified as "Clinically Unstable."

• Strict Liability: If an insurer or hospital denies an immediate bed to a patient in an "Exploitative Environment," and that patient is harmed, the facility is held liable for Negligent Denial of Care. We remove the "Addicts Lie" defense by focusing on the documented environmental hazards.

V. The Corrected Path

Under Lynne’s Laws, the moment Susan identifies her condition as "The Disease Itself," the system would pivot from "Observer" to "Intervener." Her husband would no longer be a lookout for a crime; he would be a partner in a coordinated medical intake. The "White Minivan" would be replaced by a transport vehicle to a stabilization center where both spouses could begin the walk toward a health-filled victory.

#LynnesLaws

---

The Lynne’s Laws: Master Priority List (Ranked by Leverage)

Priority One: The Medical Necessity and Parity Act. (The Foundation). Legally defines the "Disease Itself" and its withdrawal symptoms as a life-threatening emergency.

Priority Two: The Clinical Stabilization Act (The Beba Clause). (The Safety Net). Prevents the "Hostile Discharge" of patients in physical or environmental collapse, like Dakota or Susan.

Priority Three: The Immediate Diagnostic Access Act. (The Bureaucracy Breaker). Mandates that a diagnosis of SUD is an automatic "Prior Authorization" for care, ending the Medicaid waiting game.

Priority Four: The Right to Patient Identity Act. (The Dignity Law). Forces all professionals to see the "Husband and Wife" or the "Professional Counselor" behind the diagnosis.

Priority Five: The Mandatory Continuity of Care Statute. (The Bridge). Ensures a "Warm Handoff" to keep patients from being returned to the street corner once they have requested help.

Priority Six: The Strict Liability / "Addicts Lie" Bypass. (The Justice Clause). Ensures that a patient’s medical records and environmental risks provide the evidence needed for a jury, regardless of the social stigma of addiction.

Absolutely Unacceptable.

That which follows was originally presented as four separate blogs.  The original blogs were removed and are now presented here as one blog for clarity of events as shared with me by 'Dakota's' friends who were there and by 'Dakota' herself during these days.

Isn't there a better approach?

12/16/2021 11:22:00 AM

In mid-2016, I truly believe that God led me to the streets of Kensington.  Two unrelated storylines in my life got me there.

In this time I've come to know and love so many people who call the streets home.

• Some have found healing and moved on in amazing, new, and revitalized lives.
• Others have died by overdose or medical situations secondary to their drug use.
• And then there is a third category of loved ones who rips my heart to shreds…

These are the men and women who are growing increasingly physically emaciated.  Whatever degree of healthy weight they may have had at one point has reduced itself to a living and breathing skeleton of their former self.  Some are riddled with abscesses while others are on the verge of losing one or more extremities.  Teeth are falling out or gone.  

And I'm supposed to just sit back and not say anything directly to them because people tell me that would be rude.

It's extremely painful to watch a loved one or multiple loved ones seemingly run and run hard toward their own casket.

Isn't there a better approach for loved ones than to just sit back and wait for that phone call informing me that the run is done?

**********

Sprint to the Finish

December 17, 2021

Have you ever seen a long-distance runner who has a nice even pace?  They are not always at the front of the pack of runners.  Nor are they at the back.  They are just running along doing what a long-distance runner does - run and run and run - until they cross the finish line.

And then there are the runners doing exactly that until they find within themselves a burst of determination despite utter exhaustion to not just finish the race but win the race. 

Their run becomes a sprint to the finish line.  They push themselves beyond their exhaustion point and keep pushing until they pass the current leader of the pack, cross that line and win the race.

One of my dear and treasured friends is in sprint mode right now. 

Her sprint is not one of a runner's race.  It is her personal sprint fueled by determination to keep her active addiction alive.  I'm in the bleachers of her life and can't reach her to stop her or slow her down.

The fuel for her run has been one part food and six parts prostitution.  Each and every day, seven days per week, 365 days per year, this fuel has kept her going barely nutritionally and fully financially.  The never-ending consistent pattern of a runner for my friend is Make money... Get high...  Make Money... Get high... Eat… Make money... Get high...  Make Money... Get high…

With a lack of meals and an abundance of drugs, emaciation moves in and 'regulars'[1] move out.  Streetwalking to be picked up by some previously unknown to her guy upon which to provide a sexual 'service' to fund her medicinal needs becomes a central part of the sprint in the final stage of her race.

Tunnel vision blocks out the love of family and friends who beg her to stop or at least slow the pace of the race.  There seems to be nothing we can do or say that she can see or hear.

Unlike the Olympic runner's race where the finish line is a laser-measured point of claiming joy-filled victory, the finish for my loved one will be that final unwitnessed and therefore unsaved by Narcan overdose, her murder on a 'date' gone bad, that stray bullet or that severe injury or infection brought on by the hazards of her run.

Unlike the runner's finish line visible at a specific point on the track, my loved one's finish could come at any moment.  She won't know it until she gets there and in reality, not even then for death will have closed her eyes to it before her realization knows it.  She'll cross the line and her sprint to her own casket will be complete.

I'm in the bleachers of her life deeply desiring to cheer her on to a life filled with all of the goodness that I know lays within her.  At one point in her race, before she started the sprint to her finish, she did hear and appreciate my cheers for her.  Her tunnel vision and laser focus on feeding her addiction now block me out regardless of how loud I cheer for her goodness or scream in my fear for her finish.

For as much as I want her to do so, with little belief that she will soon quit her sprint, surrender herself to healing and claim her health-filled victory, I can only hope that she trips in her sprint, lands alive on her face, and needs medical intervention to tend to her minor wounds.  At that moment, I hope and pray that medical professionals who are poised right next to the track upon which she now sprints and who have dedicated their careers to the ideals of Hippocrates will come alongside her, compassionately connect with her, and guide her into the healing that she deserves and deep down inside truly desires.

---

[1] Men who call her consistently to 'serve' them.

********************************************

'Dakota' was taken by ambulance to a local hospital.

Monday, January 3, 2022

Just a few hours ago, 'Dakota' was taken by ambulance to a local [1] hospital.  She was bundled in a blanket, lifted to a 'stair chair', and carried to an awaiting ambulance stretcher by an ambulance crew due to weakness brought on by her serious medical condition.

Please understand that 'Dakota' is a treasure to know.  She's devoted to her friends and a stunning, intelligent, and naturally gifted professional counselor even though she does not (yet) carry the scholastic credentials that make her skills official and employable.

Would it not have been better for the healthcare system to provide prompt, dignity, and respect-filled medical care to 'Dakota' when she wanted it months and years ago? 

Why must a patient with Substance Use Disorder who is reliant on Medicaid lay in something resembling their death bed before they start receiving legitimate and meaningful health care?

On Wednesday, May 26, 2021, 'Dakota' helped me finalize the writing of this blog about herself and the situation she was unwittingly in.:

"What keeps you from going to detox?"

Let's expand the definition of 'Harm Reduction' to include and resolve these issues.

---

[1] Local to the residence of a friend who was doing everything possible to keep her alive….

[2] independent of intellectual understanding by the same patient that this is not good

**********

“We Need Your Bed for ‘Real Patients.’”

January 15, 2022

Was it too much to have the following hope as I wrote (above in this blog) on December 17, 2021?

For as much as I want her to do so, with little belief that she will soon quit her sprint, surrender herself to healing and claim her health-filled victory, I can only hope that she trips in her sprint, lands alive on her face, and needs a brief medical intervention to tend to her minor wounds. 

At that moment, I hope and pray that medical professionals who are poised right next to the track upon which she now sprints and who have dedicated their careers to the ideals of Hippocrates will come alongside her, compassionately connect with her, and guide her into the healing that she deserves and deep down inside truly desires.

**********

When I learned that 'Dakota' had tripped in her sprint[1] and that she had surrendered to the care she desperately needed, I was relieved in knowing that this moment of healing and the first step toward her new life was at hand.

Two hours after she was admitted to the emergency room, with their Hippocratic Oath long since forgotten and compassion for her as a patient disconnected, my dear friend was discharged with little care given to her 'trip wound.' 

Their explanation to her for her unwanted discharge:

"We need your bed for 'real patients.'"

She was dead by the end of the week.

**********

She surrendered herself to healing.

She started to claim her health-filled victory.

She was too weak to walk and so was carried off the sprinter's track by an ambulance crew who she said was kind and caring and into the presence of medical professionals who had forgotten their Hippocratic Oath and failed to compassionately connect. 

In our last ever phone conversation, with a weakened voice 'Dakota' told me hours later that she was truly scared by what was happening and that it took a great deal for her to agree to have help called for her. 

She wanted and submitted to help and help failed her.

Help in the form of hospital emergency room staff failed her and so, from her perspective,

Why bother trying again?

'Dakota's' sprint to and crossing of her finish line came, not when she gave up on herself.  It came when the medical community gave up on her.  

Her race is now complete not because she wanted it to be complete but because emergency room staff brought the finish line to her and placed it within easy and unintended reach.

The body of this hospital's 'real patient' contained the spirit of a living and breathing inspirational human being.  She was made in the image of God.  She was worthy of dignity, honor, respect, and love. 

She was my friend and I miss her.

She is now lying in a morgue awaiting retrieval by her family.

**********

Update: As of January 22, ‘Dakota’s’ ashes are in an urn at her mother’s house…

---

[1] Metaphorically Speaking

*******************

Analysis Addendum: The Dakota Case Study

Project: Lynne’s Laws (#LynnesLaws)

I. The Human Narrative: A Legacy Stolen

Dakota was not a "case number"; she was an aspiring attorney and a naturally gifted counselor. She possessed a "stunning, intelligent" mind, capable of asking deep, thought-provoking questions that guided others toward healing even while she struggled with her own "sprint." She leaves behind two young sons who must now grow up without their mother—not because she refused help, but because the system refused her.

Dakota did the hardest thing a person in active addiction can do: she surrendered. She allowed an ambulance to carry her in a "stair chair" into a hospital, only to be told two hours later that she wasn't a "real patient." Because the medical community gave up on her, she was dead by the end of the week.

"She wanted and submitted to help and help failed her... Dakota’s finish line came not when she gave up on herself, but when the medical community gave up on her."

II. The Lynne’s Laws Priority Framework

Dakota’s death identifies three specific legislative priorities for Pennsylvania:

1. The Right to Patient Identity Act: Prohibits "Credential Bias." A patient’s history of Substance Use Disorder (SUD) cannot be used to de-prioritize their clinical needs or label them as "non-real."

2. The Clinical Stabilization Act (The "Beba Clause"): Mandates that any patient with visible systemic frailty, unable to walk, or with open wounds must be medically stabilized for a minimum 72-hour observation period.

3. The Mandatory Continuity of Care Statute: Requires a "Warm Handoff." A hospital is legally barred from a "Hostile Discharge" to the street; they must facilitate a transfer to a licensed stabilization or detox facility.

III. The Professional Tension & Consensus

• The Supportive View: Compassionate providers see Dakota as a "Human Asset." Her potential to be a lawyer and a mother was stolen by a system that acted as a gatekeeper rather than a healer.

• The Skeptical View: Hospital administrators often cite "Resource Drain," fearing that mandating 72-hour stays will overflow Emergency Rooms.

• The Lynne’s Law Resolution: This law actually saves resources by stopping the "revolving door." By forcing a "Warm Handoff," the hospital moves the patient to the correct level of care (Detox) more efficiently than waiting for the next emergency EMS call.

IV. Legislative "Teeth": Overcoming the "Addicts Lie" Defense

Currently, families are denied justice because attorneys claim "no jury will believe an addict." Lynne’s Laws solve this through an Objective Evidence Standard:

• If a hospital discharges a patient who meets the "Beba Clause" criteria (physical emaciation, inability to walk, or clinical instability) and that patient dies within 7 days, the hospital is held Strictly Liable. * This removes the need for "witness credibility" and holds the facility accountable based solely on the medical record.

V. The Corrected Path

Under Lynne’s Laws, the hospital would have seen Dakota as a mother and a future legal colleague in a metabolic crisis. The Beba Clause would have barred her discharge. She would have been stabilized and transferred to a facility equipped to help her win her "sprint."

Dakota would be alive today, raising her sons and practicing the law she nearly died trying to reach.

---

#LynnesLaws

Don't just give away stuff! Connect, Connect, Connect!

I'd like to share with you this video that I recently created.  In it, I share some of the specifics of what I'm doing (with a wonderful growing team) in Kensington.

There's a message in this for all outreach workers to those streets.

To learn more about this all-important approach to outreach, I invite you to watch this Ted-Talk.

Four weeks ago this morning...

Four weeks ago this morning, I woke to a text that simply said,

Jump ahead three weeks (One week ago)…

For those past 21 days, every aspect of my life had been written on lined paper - and still is.  If you look really closely at the lines, you would see that those lines are the very fine microscopic print of phrases such as “She’s dead.”  “She didn’t survive.” and similar such wordings as I try to digest the non-digestible.

This past weekend, a phrase started visiting me, not by my own thought process but as if from a visitor to my soul. 

I leave this with you to interpret its origin to me and its meaning for you:

“If you wake up tomorrow morning in the spirit world and discover that you had overdosed during the night, would you have done something differently this evening? 

This evening will be here before the end of the day.

Please plan accordingly.”

 

Why?

Why do we expect a Medicaid-reliant patient who wants detox to sit hour upon hour in a 'crisis center' and wait for a bed somewhere in the city while feeling more and more like this as dope sickness builds...

...when for only $5.00, 

the 'cure' from their perspective 

is it a quick injection of this?

Why?

An Adorable Kitten of a Young Lady 30 Minutes from Your Suburban Church...

An adorable kitten of a young lady who I've known for a few weeks walked up to me to tell me of her medical issue brought on by the added poisons that are in the 'heroin', her plan to get the issue resolved and then go home because she's tired of living on the streets and all that comes with this lifestyle as a woman.

I lightheartedly asked... "You're so adorable. Are you available for adoption?"

Her response... "My mom died of an overdose and my dad is in jail so... Yes. I am."

An Adorable Kitten of a Young Lady 30 Minutes from Your Suburban Church...

PS: You'll never see pictures or videos of me doing what I do where I do it... In a roundabout way, I can show you the exact location where this conversation occurred.

Check out this scene from "Rocky" around the one-minute mark. This is the exact location multiple decades ago.

Money Makes the World Go Round.

About 3 years ago I sat down with the COO of a private insurance detox/rehab facility. I asked him why it was not possible for that facility to accept Medicaid-reliant patients who carry the same diagnosis. He helped me understand the basic issue involved. 

It boils down to money:

Private insurance pays (in round numbers) $800 to  $1,000 per day for professional services. Medicaid pays $150 to $200 per day for the same. That is a staggering difference in reimbursement. There is no way for a private insurance facility to provide proper services as per its philosophy on what those services should be at the Medicaid rate of reimbursement.

Money Makes the World Go Round.

**********

As I shared with you in a previous blog, one Medicaid reliant couple who I've been getting to know in recent weeks shared with me how much money it takes to purchase the drugs that they feel they need.  They must spend $500 in a 24-hour cycle.  That's $250.00 for each of them 24 hours each day, 365 days each year including all holidays.

For every 24 hours that this young couple is in active substance use, she as the female in this deeply committed heterosexual relationship must earn $500 by doing ‘dates’ with random men who pick her up.[1]

Think about that and now think about this…

At the Medicaid rate of reimbursement, these two individuals[2] are earning more money in any 24-hour cycle through prostitution[3] to support their addiction than is being paid through Medicaid to provide healing to them from their addiction. 

Money Makes the World Go Round.

**********

The males who provide the funding for sexual 'services' are often referred to a 'Jawns.'

Collectively, Jawn[4] reimburses for sexual 'services' women in addiction on the streets of Kensington at a substantially higher rate than does Medicaid provide for professional healing services to this same population.

If Medicaid paid more than 'Jawn' we just might see more healing.

Money Makes the World Go Round.

---

[1] Additional perspective: If each 'date' earns her an average of $50.00, that is ten 'dates' that she must perform in every 24 hour period.  It's not 9-5 or 3-11 or 11-7.  It's every 24 hours around the clock.

[2] who very much would like to be healed from the active use phase of their substance use disorder

[3] and all the hazards thereof

[4] Sometimes used as a first name of sorts when referring to one.