The practice of "huffing," inhaling dangerous chemicals that are cheap and easy to find, is on the rise among teenagers.
By LEANORA MINAI
Published April 20, 2004
[Courtesy of Pam Abraham]
Christopher Abraham is shown visiting a family cemetery plot in Illinois; he was buried there. His mother wrote the words on the edges of the photo after his death. "He was the sweetest person," said Leanne Cross, a family friend.
[Courtesy of Pam Abraham]
Abraham, 16, died after inhaling refrigerant gas.
SEMINOLE - It was about 2:30 a.m. when Leanne Cross peeked into the darkened living room and saw the teenager sitting alone on a leather couch.
"Christopher? Are you still awake?"
Christopher Abraham didn't move. She walked closer until she could see his lanky arms and khaki pant legs in the faint light through the window.
Then she saw his head covered in a black plastic trash bag. She ripped the bag off, pulled him on the floor and pressed her lips against his, trying to breathe life back into him.
It was too late. "He was always looking for the next thrill," said Cross, 37, a family friend.
The circumstances of Christopher's death would not become clear until two days later, as family and friends gathered in his home to mourn. The air conditioner was running, but the house was warm and stuffy.
A repairman came and inspected the unit. The coolant was low. A neighbor reported similar problems. His coolant was low, too.
Christopher had turned to Freon for a thrill that November night.
Seeking a high, he tapped into his air conditioner and filled a trash bag with refrigerant gas. He placed the bag over his head and inhaled.
* * *
Christopher Abraham, 16, a reptile lover and budding wildlife photographer, was one of four people in the Tampa Bay area last year who accidentally died from "huffing."
National studies show inhalant use among young teens is on the rise. Huffing - inhaling or sniffing paint thinner, glue, aerosol deodorizers and other gases - is one of the most common forms of drug abuse among sixth- and eighth-graders beginning to experiment with drugs.
"What I sometimes tell parents is they're the dealer because the products are under their sinks, or kids can find them at school," said Harvey Weiss, executive director of the National Inhalant Prevention Coalition.
His organization estimates that about 125 people die annually nationwide, although many medical examiners don't track inhalant statistics.
Huffing dates to the 1800s, when people sniffed cloths soaked in ether. Over the years, model airplane glue and aerosol sprays gained popularity.
"What's different this time is there's so many more products, and new products keep coming out," said Howard Wolfe, a national expert and member of the Massachusetts Inhalant Task Force.
Kids can pick from 1,000 to 2,000 products, he said, and more youth are using.
In 1990, 266,000 youth under 18 said they started inhaling a chemical. By 2001, that number was 802,000, according to the federal Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration.
Florida's middle and high schoolers were polled last year about inhalant use within the past 30 days. Slightly more had huffed than in 2002, though not as many as in 2000.
Products are cheap, easy to find and don't show in urine tests. Youth, mostly white kids in rural areas, huff for the rush. The lightheaded feeling. The altered state of consciousness. The hallucinations.
"Inhalants are like playing Russian roulette because of sudden sniffing death," said Leah Young, spokeswoman for SAMHSA, an agency of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. "You can die from the first time you use it, or 10th time."
Of the four people - two adults and two teens - who died in the Tampa Bay area in 2003, three used Freon, the refrigerant gas in air conditioners. The other used toluene, a solvent in paints.
Experts say the nationwide deaths are underreported. Medical examiners do not routinely test blood for inhalants unless there's a history of abuse, or investigators find evidence at the scene.
"We probably don't know how bad a problem we have," said Earl G. Siegel, co-director of the Cincinnati Drug and Poison Information Center.
Last month, the inhalant prevention coalition, which tracks deaths from media reports and victims' families, called on medical examiners nationwide to separate death data. It also stressed to law enforcement the importance of looking for huffing evidence at scenes.
In Christopher Abraham's case, Pinellas sheriff's deputies wondered whether he killed himself. But they soon learned he had huffed before. Clues, two black plastic trash bags and broken butane lighters, were found near his body.
That November night, he went to his outdoor air condensing unit and filled a bag with refrigerant gas. He put the bag over his head for a concentrated dose.
The fumes caused his heart to quiver. His blood stopped pumping. His brain screamed for oxygen, and he passed out.
"You will suffocate," said Dr. Noel A. Palma, deputy chief medical examiner for Pinellas and Pasco counties. "You cannot move the plastic bag because you're unconscious."
* * *
Not much scared Christopher Abraham.
He ate a live worm for $1. He pierced both of his nipples with safety pins. He skied off a roof and into a pool.
"Wasn't he cute?" said his mother, Pam Abraham, 36, holding a photo taken hours before he died.
People told Christopher Abraham he looked like actor Leonardo DiCaprio. He was 6 feet 3 and had fair skin and blue eyes. He dyed his blond hair blue.
His mother was a 19-year-old college student in North Carolina when he was born. They moved to Madeira Beach when he was 2 years old so she could be close to her mother and finish nursing school.
Shirley Abraham, his grandmother, took him to art shows in St. Pete Beach and St. Petersburg.
"He would talk to the artists and find out how they did their pictures," she said.
When Christopher Abraham was 10, he was diagnosed with attention deficit disorder. He poured his energy into creations. He fashioned soda can tabs into snake shapes and took photos of his pet snakes and lizards. He joined the Suncoast Herpetological Society with his friend, Katie Nealis, 16.
Once, he inspected Chloe, her bearded dragon lizard, when she thought it was sick.
"He came over and looked at her," said Katie's mother, Eileen Nealis, 43. "He opened her mouth and gave her a kiss on the nose."
But Christopher Abraham started to find trouble. His mother was working two nursing jobs. He didn't know his father. He had a younger brother, Nicholas, but they didn't live together.
"He was the sweetest person - gentle and honest and caring," said Leanne Cross, the doctor and family friend who found him dead on the couch. "But at the same time, he didn't have a lot of common sense and would just do stuff."
During a vacation in Ohio several years ago, a relative caught him with an aerosol can. He was trying to inhale its fumes. Mitch Egan, who dated his mother and helped raise him, took off his bedroom door so they could watch him.
Christopher Abraham didn't get caught huffing again. Over the next few years, he experimented with beer and pot. He also earned a green belt in karate and celebrated his 15th birthday with his mother in New York City. They saw Rent and a snake exhibit at the Bronx Zoo.
In August, life grew more complicated. Christopher Abraham was expelled from St. Petersburg High School. He was caught with a cigarette and pocketknife, his mother said. He spent two weeks in the Juvenile Detention Center, where a friend said he first heard about huffing Freon.
"He was getting drug-tested, so he couldn't smoke pot anymore," said Egan, 45, his mother's former boyfriend. "I think he was trying to figure out other ways to get high."
Several weeks before his death, Christopher Abraham was caught running through a neighbor's yard with a black plastic bag. The neighbor thought he was breaking into cars. A sheriff's deputy came out. No one thought about refrigerant gas.
"I'm a medical professional, and look at me, I didn't know," Pam Abraham said.
After classes at the Pinellas Marine Institute on Nov. 20, Christopher Abraham passed the evening with his mother, her friend, Cross, and Cross' daughter, Ellery. They ate dinner on the beach and listened to reggae. They soaked in the hot tub at home and gazed at the stars.
About 12:30 a.m., Pam Abraham and Cross left for a drink in Madeira Beach. Ellery, 10, was in bed, and Christopher Abraham was asked to babysit.
Two hours later, they returned home and found him on the couch, and Ellery asleep.
"What if we would have just stayed home?" Pam Abraham asked, touching a gold cross around her neck that holds some of her son's ashes.
"I miss him a lot," she said. "It's getting worse. You think it would get better, but the reality sets in that this is going to be forever."
She yearns for his smile.
- Times researcher Kitty Bennett contributed to this report. Leanora Minai can be reached at 727 893-8406 or minai@sptimes.com
