Gerald-Mark (Jerry) Breen had an IQ of 146. He earned a PhD in Health and Public Affairs. He published 30 articles and three books by age 29, one of which was cited by Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito. He was a co-author of Improving the Quality of Care in Nursing Homes (Johns Hopkins University Press). He was a teacher. He was an accomplished classical pianist.
By almost any measure society uses to define success, Jerry was extraordinary.
But there was something his intelligence couldn’t overcome: addiction.
I recently had a deeply personal conversation with Bonni Breen, a registered nurse with more than 30 years in workers’ compensation. Because I’ve spent more than two decades speaking out against inappropriate opioid prescribing, she asked me to help share her son’s story, in the hope that someone else might recognize the warning signs before it’s too late.
Jerry’s challenges began early. He struggled with ADHD as a child. At age 10, he lost his father, leaving Bonni to raise him and his two brothers. He also received treatment for obsessive-compulsive disorder. What the CDC calls ACEs (adverse childhood experiences) were part of his foundation.
But a résumé and a diagnosis don’t tell you who Jerry was. A close friend from his years in Hawaii remembers an energy that was “infectious.” At a local brewery, Jerry would walk over to a tarp-covered piano that was clearly off-limits, pull the tarp off, and start to play. He wrote so quickly and fluently that his friend teased him about a ghost whispering in his ear. His students loved how freely he gave his help. And he talked about home. “‘My mom’ figured often in his conversations,” his friend wrote, “and Skyler, his dog.”
His exposure to opioids began with something seemingly ordinary: an ingrown toenail. What followed was anything but ordinary.
Despite his remarkable intellectual abilities, Jerry developed an addiction that increasingly controlled his decisions. He sought prescriptions from multiple physicians and pharmacies with no objective underlying pain that would require opioids. He underwent medical procedures to obtain medications. He completed two rehabilitation programs and spent years in counseling.
His mother watched it unfold. Bonni understood medications. She understood healthcare. She understood the dangers. And she repeatedly warned her son. So did a physician in Wisconsin.
Jerry knew the dangers, too. One of his favorite quotes, Bonni recalls, now feels painfully ironic: “To neglect your health is to accept illness as a friend.”
But Jerry believed he was smarter than the drugs. No one is.
On March 28, 2010, Bonni lost her son.
Jerry’s story shows what happens when physicians and pharmacies operate in separate information silos. Multiple doctors and pharmacies. Multiple opportunities to recognize what was happening. And a mother who knew exactly what she was witnessing but couldn’t make it stop.
In 2010, nothing required Jerry’s doctors to check what the others were prescribing. Gaps like these are why I spent years advocating for drug formularies and prescription drug monitoring programs, including California’s SB 482, signed into law in 2016, which requires prescribers to check a patient’s controlled-substance history before prescribing opioids and other controlled substances. Laws like that exist because of stories like Jerry’s.
Jerry sometimes called Bonni 20 times a day. Imagine being that mother. Knowing your son is struggling, recognizing the danger, loving him desperately, warning him repeatedly that his addiction could kill him. And yet, despite all of that, unable to change the trajectory.
We sometimes underestimate how helpless families can feel when someone they love is trapped in addiction. We assume that if the person were smarter, stronger, more disciplined, or more aware of the consequences, they would simply stop.
Jerry’s life challenges every one of those assumptions:
- Intelligence wasn’t enough
- Education wasn’t enough
- Accomplishment wasn’t enough
- Even repeated warnings and rehabilitation weren’t enough
Addiction is not a contest of intellect. Recovery requires more than willpower. Addiction doesn’t care about your occupation, education, income, IQ, or who pays for it. It certainly doesn’t care how much your mother loves you.
Bonni cannot change what happened to Jerry. For years, she couldn’t tell Jerry’s story without breaking down. Today she can, and she’s telling it in the hope that another family can have a different ending.
Perhaps a parent will recognize the warning signs sooner. Perhaps someone struggling with addiction will acknowledge that they need help. Perhaps a physician will look more carefully at prescription history. Perhaps a claims professional will question whether continued opioid therapy is helping someone recover or creating another problem.
Every time Bonni hears Beethoven’s “Für Elise,” she believes Jerry is sending her a message from heaven.
Jerry was brilliant. He was accomplished. He was loved. He was somebody’s son.
Addiction didn’t care.
If someone you love is struggling, you don’t have to figure it out alone. SAMHSA’s National Helpline (1-800-662-4357) is free, confidential, and available 24/7.
