Mo. Parents Share Story of Son`s Overdose to Save Others

April 06--Kelly Smith-Miller and Todd Travis still have high hopes for their son, Brayden Travis. They describe a charming, kind and personable 18-year-old.

But that Brayden seems far from the young man in a coma at a local hospital.

Brayden overdosed on heroin and Xanax at a girlfriend's home in St. Charles County early last month. He was left without medical attention for at least seven hours, and his heart was functioning at a dangerously low rate.

"He should have been dead," said Smith-Miller, 36, of Arnold.

He's suffered a stroke and now has severe brain damage. He's breathing on his own, wakes up and opens and closes his eyes, but his reactions to stimulus are inconsistent.

A week after her son's overdose, Smith-Miller posted an emotional plea and photos of Brayden on Facebook and urged other parents to show it to their teens.

"If my son's story and picture can save one life or contribute to the education and awareness of drug abuse, then he and I are very happy!" she said in the lengthy post. "He wouldn't want this for anyone else and he would tell anyone not to use drugs ... ever! I can tell you he tried to fight this addiction and I pray this time it hasn't won!"

Her post has been shared more than 330,000 times. She had no idea it would spread so far.

"My goal, and what I pray for, is sometime Brayden is up and telling his story," she said in a recent interview. "At some point, I hope he can understand, even though he made a bad decision, he is helping people."

Since posting the story, Smith-Miller and Travis have heard from a handful of people who have sworn off drugs or checked into rehab since seeing Brayden's story, including a childhood friend of Brayden's.

One reason Brayden's story might be drawing so much attention is because his troubles aren't rare. Although the National Institute on Drug Abuse reports that heroin use in the general population is low, the numbers have been steadily rising since 2007 as the opiate has become more readily available and cheaper than the prescription painkillers that have proved widely addictive.

Heavier use has brought deadly consequences. In 2013, 342 people in a seven-county area of the St. Louis region died of heroin overdoses, compared with 139 deaths in 2007, according to the National Council on Alcoholism and Drug Abuse-St. Louis Area. Last year, 376 people died, though those numbers are incomplete. More than a third of people going into drug treatment go because of heroin abuse.

"It kills more people than homicides in the area, every single year," said Jared Opsal, a public awareness specialist with the organization. "St. Louisans can wrap their heads around that. People are just unaware of it."

Blair Malench, an emergency room physician's assistant with SSM Health Care, says he sees heroin overdose cases at least a few times a week.

Patients don't usually come in with caring visitors or family, he said -- they're dropped off by whomever might have been using with them or they're brought in by ambulance. In the emergency room, they are often revived with a dose of naloxone, known by the trademark name Narcan, something that saved Brayden Travis twice after overdoses in the fall.

Last year, a new law in Missouri helped broaden the authorized use of Narcan by first responders. A bill pending in the Legislature this year would allow physicians to prescribe naloxone to anyone to administer, in good faith, to someone suffering from a heroin overdose. Another bill, dubbed the "Good Samaritan Law," would give limited immunity from arrest or possession of drugs if a person calls 911 or seeks medical help for an overdose victim. Often, people are scared to call for help because they fear arrest.

Another bill pending would create a prescription drug monitoring program, which would help keep people from "doctor shopping" to obtain and abuse prescription drugs. Missouri is the only state without such a program. Prescription drug abuse commonly leads to heroin abuse since both are opiates and the reaction is similar, say experts.

Juan Wilson is a St. Charles police detective detached to the Drug Enforcement Administration. He's investigating Brayden's case. Much of his work involves finding out who is getting the drugs and distributing them.

His work doesn't always lead to dark alleys. "When I was undercover I bought heroin out of $300,000 homes," he said. "It's not the scary out-of-the shadows dark figures, who say, 'You want to try this?' It's friends. It's family members."

He once talked to a teenage girl who said her mother first helped her shoot up heroin when she was 14.

Brayden's struggle with drugs started with marijuana at about age 15. That led to other drugs, and eventually to heroin. He enrolled in five or six treatment programs, but walked out of three of them. He spent eight months in juvenile custody for drug use and failing drug tests. He lived for a while at his grandmother's lake house, and moved from his mother's house in Arnold to his father's house in St. Charles County.

Brayden was charming, fearless, and wanted to please others, which led to self-esteem issues when he did not. "He would get clean and tell you everything he did and be upset about it," said Smith-Miller.

Todd Travis, a concrete refinisher, tried to set a good example for his son by eating healthy foods and working out. He said he hoped Brayden would fight his demons that way. "It feels like a dream," he said. "You go over what you could have done better."

Smith-Miller, who is taking a leave from her job in promotional products, once worked with adolescents in treatment programs. She's worked hard to understand what's behind her son's addiction, and fiercely advocates for him in the hospital. "You go into mom mode," she said. "You don't have time to have self-pity."

She hung a sign on her son's hospital door that says, "Please use quiet voices and positive talk when visiting." She thinks it's helping and that Brayden can hear what she and his father are saying. Last week, she mentioned an ex-girlfriend. Brayden puckered out his bottom lip, his heart rate went up, and he started to cry. Smith-Miller didn't expect or want that reaction, but she nevertheless saw it as a good sign.

Brayden's parents are realistic about what's in store for him, they say, and are taking things day by day -- just as they did before this overdose. "Every bit of progress gives me hope," says Travis. "I just want my son to have a life worth living, man. I want him to be able to walk and talk. He's in there, man, he's in there.

"I'm looking into his eyes, man -- and he's looking at me."

Valerie Schremp Hahn -- 314-340-8246

@valeriehahn on Twitter

vhahn@post-dispatch.com

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