�������ýҕ�l

As COVID-19 kills thousands in Chicago and across Illinois, the opioid epidemic has intensified its own deadly siege away from the spotlight, engulfing one public health crisis inside another. More than twice as many people have died or are suspected to have died of opioid overdoses in the first five months of the year in Cook County, when compared with the same period last year, according to a ProPublica Illinois analysis of medical examiner’s office death records. There have been at least 924 confirmed or suspected overdose deaths so far in 2020; there were 461 at this time last year. And much like the coronavirus outbreak, the opioid epidemic has disproportionately affected African Americans on Chicago’s West and South Sides. (Sanchez and Eldeib, 5/30)

Before Philadelphia shut down to slow the spread of the coronavirus, Ed had a routine: most mornings he would head to a nearby McDonald's to brush his teeth, wash his face and — when he had the money — buy a cup of coffee. He would bounce between homeless shelters and try to get a shower. But since businesses closed and many shelters stopped taking new admissions, Ed has been mostly shut off from that routine. He's still living on the streets. "I'll be honest, I don't really sleep too much," says Ed, who's 51 and struggling with addiction. "Every four or five days I get a couple hours." (Feldman, 5/29)

During lockdown, Kiesha Preston has heard from many people facing physical, psychological and/or sexual abuse that the violence against them is escalating without reprieve. Stress and isolation create combustible tensions. A lack of privacy subjects many victims to closer surveillance by their abuser, making it difficult to call crisis hotlines, for example. And Preston worries that high unemployment will make it harder to afford moving out — though she hopes that this won't stop anyone who is being abused from reaching out. There are resources available to help you, she says. (Noguchi, 6/1)

Jennifer Gross had warned her 12-year-old daughter about the potential dangers of socializing with strangers online, but said the message had often fallen on deaf ears. Now the preteen understands the concern. Since mid-March, the daughter has received several flirtatious messages from accounts that appeared to be from adult men on Instagram, Mrs. Gross said. (Needleman, 5/31)

Before the pandemic, Bethesda, Md., residents Nancy Chasen, 75, a retired public interest lawyer, and her husband, Don Spero, 80, a retired businessman, regularly drove the nearly 300 miles to Chapel Hill, N.C., to visit their grandchildren, ages 8, 5 and 4. “We’d go every month or so for at least a few days to consistently build those relationships,” Chasen says. “We didn’t want to be just faces in an electronic box.” (Cimons, 5/31)

They keep telling me it’s not my fault, and I’d give anything to believe that. The doctor called after my mom went to the hospital and said: “Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The pastor said basically the same thing at her funeral. “Let it go. You had nothing to do with this.” (As told to Eli Saslow, 5/30)