A Call No Parent Should Ever Receive

On December 29, 2016, I received the call that every parent prays they will never receive.

What I have learned since that day has been nothing short of transformative—reshaping how I understand life, loss, and what truly matters. As you read this, my prayer is twofold: that you never experience the grief of losing a child, and that you gain insight from the lessons I learned through mine.

The death of my son fuels my passion to expose a deeply painful truth: patient abandonment.

Robbie was abandoned by a medical system we trusted with his life. The fear, isolation, desperation, and despair we endured during the six days leading up to his death were not inevitable. His death—one that should never occur under a physician’s care—was the result of the most extreme manifestation of addiction stigma within medical practice.

For this reason, I am compelled to share Robbie’s story and the hard-earned truths that emerged from a journey no parent should ever have to navigate.

Six Days of Silence

When Robbie’s Suboxone prescription was mistakenly thrown into a trash can at the front of a Walgreens pharmacy—and then into a compactor behind the store—neither of us could have imagined that his life would end six days later.

Both Robbie and I knew exactly what had happened to the medication—I was there. I immediately thought, I can fix this. I am his mom, and I know what happened. What neither of us understood at the time was that the stigma surrounding addiction did not apply only to Robbie. It applied to me as well.

Over the next six days, we encountered barrier after barrier while Robbie suffered through Suboxone withdrawal. His provider’s office was closed for ten days over the Christmas holidays, leaving no on-call physician and no backup coverage—despite our repeated and urgent pleas for help.

Terrified of relapse and desperate for relief, Robbie followed the guidance of both the provider’s nurse and a local pharmacist. He purchased recommended over-the-counter medications in an effort to manage withdrawal symptoms long enough to return to work.

Robbie knew that if he lost his job, he would lose his health insurance—and with it, his only access to the medication-assisted treatment program supporting his recovery.

For six days, Robbie and I left urgent messages on the provider’s answering machine, pleading for an on-call doctor to return our calls.

No physician ever did.

Only silence.

Abandoned

On the sixth day, we went to the doctor’s office to confirm whether it was truly closed. The night before, I had checked the practice’s website, which indicated they were open all week.

When we arrived, a nurse confirmed that no doctor was on duty. Robbie asked her a question that would haunt me forever:

“If I go to the emergency room, will I be expelled from the program?”

Her answer was yes.

My son was intentionally abandoned by the medical providers he trusted.

The very next morning—December 29, 2016—I received the call that shattered my world.

My son, Robbie, was dead.

What the Evidence Revealed

Five months later, the toxicology report revealed a devastating truth.

Robbie died from an Imodium (loperamide) overdose—taken in a desperate attempt to self-manage withdrawal after losing access to his prescribed Suboxone.

Uncovering the Truth

I wish I had known at the beginning of Robbie’s journey what I know now. My hope is that those who read his story will see, clearly and unmistakably, the barriers that stand between people and true recovery.

After Robbie’s death, I knew something was deeply wrong with our system of addiction care. My son was abandoned three times during his recovery journey.

The third time killed him.

I was horrified by what we endured during those final six days. I could not understand how medical providers could abandon a patient so confidently—and so completely.

It took a year and a half of relentless investigation to uncover the root cause of the abandonment that led to my son’s death. What I found was devastating: legislation that enables and protects the most extreme form of addiction stigma—patient abandonment.

Why I Speak

What I have learned since Robbie’s death fuels my resolve to fight addiction stigma and dismantle the false narratives surrounding this disease.

Let me be clear: Robbie took responsibility for his addiction. What he did not receive was accountability from the providers involved—shielded by laws that too often protect systems from scrutiny, even when failure is documented.

Robbie never knew—nor did I—until after his death that he was also a victim.

A victim of systemic failures.
A victim of stigma-laden laws.
A victim of a healthcare model that too often prioritizes fear, profit, and protection over human life.

Our children and grandchildren are depending on us to do better—and I intend to honor Robbie by making sure we do.

Robbie’s death was avoidable.

While Robbie made mistakes within the perfect storm of addiction, his death was not one of them. He should not have died—and with that truth comes purpose.

Our Mission

Angels of Champions exists to expose the profound failures within our addiction-care system and the laws and policies that allow those failures to persist.

We are equally committed to advancing science-based treatment models that have proven successful in supporting long-term recovery—models capable of replacing the revolving door of failed addiction treatment that continues to claim the lives of our sons and daughters at an alarming rate.

I hope and pray that the lessons I have learned through the trauma of my son’s death will guide Angels of Champions in helping prevent thousands of overdose deaths caused not by addiction alone, but by the stigma patients face as they struggle to survive a devastating disease.

Do not think for one moment that this could never be you—receiving the call that shatters your heart and leaves you picking up the pieces of a life forever changed.

If you or someone you love has been touched by this crisis, I invite you to join me in fighting the stigma of addiction.This is your opportunity to do something.

Together, we can become a channel of change.

Please click here to join our Hand in Hand Campaign as we work to build a nationwide coalition of patients, parents, families, friends, and concerned citizens committed to removing every barrier to recovery—including the policies and legislation that continue to fuel this crisis.

Sincerely,
Carolyn Hauck