Waking Up in Rehab

Waking Up in Rehab

         “You know, addicts come in people, not in drugs.”

         Of course, I asked what he meant by that, and he pulled a metaphor out of his bottomless bag of tricks.

         “If Nurse Tasha and I were both injected with Heroin and became addicted, we would both be put through detox and sent here, right?” He asked rhetorically. I nodded my head out of sheer sportsmanship. “So let’s say we both graduated from the program and were set free. Do you think Nurse Tasha is going to pick up Heroin again?” I fought the urge to answer with a smart ass remark. “Of course not, because she’s gonna remember how horrible the withdrawals were and she’s gonna stay as far away from that stuff as she can. But what do you think I would do?”

         “Say ‘I just had a bad batch?’” I offered. He laughed--the throaty laugh that came from lungs that had tasted more than their fair share of smoke.

         “That’s right. ‘I had a bad batch’ or ‘next time will be different’.” He shook his head at me and sighed. “Being an addict doesn’t mean you like to get high, it means you hate to be sober.” I pondered that idea for a moment, rubbing the scars across my arm unconsciously. It wasn’t until he pointed it out that I noticed I was even doing it.

         “You did that to yourself, didn’t you, girl?” He asked, nodding to the thin white stripes of raised flesh that littered my arm.

         “Yeah,” I mumbled, tugging the sleeve of my T-shirt over the evidence.

         “When you were high?” He asked, staring into my eyes with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. My pride wouldn’t let me look away. I shook my head slowly.

         “Interesting,” was all he said.

~~~

         "Why do you think people relapse?" Rick ask. He glanced around the auditorium like a high school math teacher waiting for an answer. "Come on guys, that wasn't a rhetorical question." The silence that followed was awkward as usual, with only the sound of the world's most obnoxious air conditioning unit to keep us company.

         "Okay." Rick said finally when no one answered. "Maybe something happens that triggers them and they fall back into their old, destructive behavior patterns instead of using some of the coping skills they learned here. Maybe they think that since they've been through rehab, they're no longer an addict and they can use drugs and alcohol without the same negative consequences." He paused for emphasis and glanced around the room again. I immediately lowered my eyes, knowing from past experience that Rick was overly fond of eye-contact.

         "Maybe they're weak?" Someone offered into the silence. It was a woman whose name I couldn't remember, but I did know that she was new. It was obvious to me that she hadn't said it to be rude, but her comment sent a ripple of murmurs through her fellow addicts anyways.

         "Maybe." Rick agreed, nodding as he considered her answer. "Who here has been in a treatment facility for addiction before?" He asked the room. Half of the people in the auditorium raised their hands, including me. I noticed that the woman who had spoken didn't, though. "Would anybody like to share the story of their relapse?"

         "I will." Someone said after a brief silence. I glanced to my left to see who had spoken. It was Gary, an older man with a thick southern accent and an alcohol addiction.

         "Thank you, Gary." Rick answered with a smile.

         "Well," Gary began, clearing his throat. "The first time I got sober, back in '85, I did it for my kids. I needed to put food on the table and I just couldn't do that boozin' and carryin' on like I was. I was sober for a good ten years, but then the kids grew up and left home and my wife left me and I just didn't see any reason not to go straight back to the liquor." He was quiet for a long moment, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt. "This time around, I'm doing this for myself. The road I was on wasn't headin' nowhere but the grave, that's for sure. I just..." He trailed off and shrugged, looking expectantly at Rick.

         "Thank you." Rick said as a few people clapped. Again, Rick glanced around the room. This time he caught me off guard and our eyes met. I didn't lower mine, but I was glad when he looked away. "Who here thinks Gary was weak?"

         No one raised their hand. They'd be lying if they did.