The van was coming for Richard Rivera, but it was taking a long time. He waited inside the entrance of Saint Anthony Hospital where he had spent the past three days getting off heroin. His next stop: a sober-living facility.
As his addiction counselor, DeValle Williams, kept a silent watch, the 49-year-old Rivera griped about the people who found him a bed 22 miles away, complete with meals, job training and gym access.
“They couldn’t find me a place closer?” he grumbled.
Would Rivera get in the van, Williams wondered. Or would he walk away?
Long before President Donald Trump declared the opioid crisis a national emergency and pledged to “overcome addiction in America,” Williams was fighting in the trenches, where it’s tough to tell victory from defeat. More than 64,000 died of drug overdoses last year in the U.S., most from opioids.
At 41, he’s been a counselor for two decades, the last few years helping people with drug addiction. Now he runs a new program that works to get hospital patients struggling with opioids directly into treatment.
Similar programs, called “warm handoffs,” have been shown by early research to decrease the chance of relapse. Funding comes from last year’s 21st Century Cures Act, which sets aside $1 billion to tackle the deadliest drug crisis in U.S. history. Illinois is spending $2.4 million of its Cures Act money for warm-handoff programs at Saint Anthony and eight other hospitals.
All states got a slice in April and expect to get more next year. They must spend 80 percent on opioid addiction treatment and many are teaming up with hospitals on new strategies, as opioid-related hospitalizations soar.
Williams and others on the front lines see the Cures money as a glint of hope, but they know addiction is a powerful adversary.
Those who seek help at Saint Anthony are hard cases. They come with arrest records, broken relationships and mental health problems. Open-air drug markets flourish mere blocks from the small Catholic hospital, a 119-year-old pillar of Chicago’s working-class, gang-ravaged southwest side. As in other hospitals across the nation, doctors in the emergency room treat overdose after overdose — sometimes reviving drug users they’ve revived before.
Rivera arrived here on a Saturday sick from heroin withdrawal. He got hooked on heroin two years ago when a friend asked him to help sell it. “I started little by little,” he recalled. “Three days later, I’m a junkie.”
His public health…