Pubdate: Sun, 24 Aug 2014 Source: Observer-Dispatch, The (NY) Copyright: 2014 The Observer-Dispatch. Contact: http://www.uticaod.com/ Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/2297 Author: Amy Neff Roth HEROIN'S PAIN: EPIDEMIC'S SCOURGE REFLECTED IN LOVED ONES, RECOVERING ADDICTS Owen Kemp's family celebrated his 20th birthday Jan. 12 with everything - Chinese takeout, fireworks, singing and cake. Everything - - except Owen Kemp. The boy who once made goofy faces for the camera, sang "You Are My Sunshine" over and over, loved fishing with his dad and baked apple crisp for his grandparents died of a heroin overdose in November while staying with his grandparents in North Utica. "He was our world," grandmother Deborah Humphrey said. "He brought me more joy than anyone ever has. He also brought more sadness." Heroin hurts. And the pain keeps spreading as the nation's prescription painkiller pandemic morphs into a heroin epidemic - heroin now is cheaper and easier to get. The numbers tell part of the story: 12 deaths in Oneida County last year, 108 admitted heroin users entering the Oneida County Correctional Facility in four months, and three to five heroin users admitted to one local treatment program every week. "I am hearing from students, health care providers, EMS and law enforcement that (heroin) is the No. 1 drug being abused," said Michele Caliva, administrative director of the Upstate New York Poison Center. "Within our 54 counties, there has been a steady increase." But there's a deeper truth behind the statistics - families torn apart, potential unfulfilled and hearts broken. Heroin cost 29-year-old Herkimer native Tyler Hand jobs, relationships, his values and his freedom. Imprisoned in 2012 on burglary charges, he's now in a prison work-release program, happy about being clean for two and a half years, and struggling with guilt over the people he hurt. Little Falls resident Kristin Baker has been in recovery since December and returning to the life heroin took from her: raising her 5-year-old daughter in a spotless home, working and saving money. Owen Kemp, who was from Rochester, lost everything; for his family, the pain never ends. In speaking about her grandson's life and death, Humphrey's greatest fear is that others might judge his worth by the way he died. The disease of addiction killed him but never defined who he was, she said. "I know you," Humphrey used to tell her grandson when he doubted his own value. He was, she said with conviction, a gifted artist; a loving big brother; and a young man with a kind and generous heart who gave his grandmother, who likes turtles, a turtle-shaped rubber band when he was in rehab "because he didn't have anything else to give." She still wears it. Kemp's troubles began when he was a young teenager, trying to process thoughts and feelings he didn't understand. Before he found answers, he found drugs, starting on prescription drugs at age 15 and turning to heroin at 16, his grandmother said. He spent the rest of his teens in and out of jail and rehab. When he left jail, clean last October, he went to stay with his grandparents Deborah and Ron to get away from everything associated with drug use. And for two weeks, they had their grandson back - working in his grandfather's roofing business, watching movies with them and stopping by the Polish Community Center for the pierogies he loved. He started talking about his future. But red tape had delayed Kemp's entry into an outpatient medication-assisted treatment program. One day he borrowed his grandmother's laptop, found a drug dealer and had heroin delivered to his grandparents' neighborhood. The next morning Humphrey got up early. Her husband came into the kitchen. "He said, 'Well, two weeks today.' And I said, 'So far, so good,'" Humphrey recalled. "The next words were, 'Deb, call 911.'" 'I just ruined everything' -- Kristin Baker Kristin Baker believes heroin is hell disguised as heaven. "In the beginning it's great. It makes you feel good, but once you get to the point where you need it every day, then it's bad," said Baker, 24, of Little Falls, who's been in the medication-assisted treatment program at Milestones in Utica since December. She speaks with nostalgia of her life before heroin when she worked, lived with daughter, Madison, now 5, in a spotless home and saved money. Things changed. It started when she broke up with Madison's father and started drinking. When she met her current boyfriend - who also is in the treatment program - she moved on to prescription painkillers and then heroin, the easiest, cheapest way to get opioids, she said. "I just ruined everything," she said. "We lost our apartment. We lost our jobs. We didn't have any money. My family was obviously starting to say things to me. I lost, like, 50 pounds in a couple months. Plus, it's embarrassing." Baker doesn't make excuses for herself. Some people get addicted to painkillers after injuring themselves. "(But) I was just stupid," she said. No matter how bad things got, however, she kept one priority straight. "Even though I was a junkie, I made sure my daughter was taken care of still, which was hard some days," she said. Now Baker is working to stay clean and regain everything she's lost. But recovery isn't easy on a small-town girl. "I feel better about myself," she said, "but I still feel embarrassed that people know." 'There is a way out' - Tyler Hand Tyler Hand's best friend saved his life, resuscitating him after he overdosed on heroin. That same friend later overdosed and died. Heroin has been hard on Hand, 29, of Herkimer. "The desperation every day - how am I going to get it? It took a toll on everything, every facet of my being," he said. But Hand is one of the lucky ones. He survived and has been clean for two and a half years. And he is happy again. "I just love life now. I want people to know that because there is a way out," he said. Hand, a high school athlete, started drinking at age 13 and soon moved on to marijuana and prescription drugs. He started using heroin around 2007. Over the years, he overdosed three times (once while driving) lost jobs and abandoned the morals and values he grew up with, instead using deceit and theft to cover up and support his addiction. The memory of those years still fills him with remorse and guilt, Hand said. "I feel horrible and ashamed of stealing people's jewelry and property, and especially their peace of mind and sense of security," he said. "The mental and emotional anguish I have caused sickens me to this day." Hand credits a 2011 arrest for burglary, the resulting prison time and an intensive treatment program with turning his life around. Until next June, he's in a work-release program, which lets him spend part of the week living in Herkimer and working at a local Subway. He's cheerfully contemplating the possibilities of a heroin-free future after his sentence ends; he hopes to become a counselor to help others. "I'm so happy to be me again," he said. - --- MAP posted-by: Jo-D