CHAPTER 24

                                           ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS

 (Addendum: At end of last  chapter posted, Dr. Barnett realized alcohol was going to kill him. He spent many months in a physician rehab program in Atlanta. The chapter about rehab is not yet completed. Current Chapter starts with his return home to Toledo. )
 

David ventured down the steps to the basement of the Presbyterian Church. Hearing activity down the hall, he entered a room to find a number of men and women sitting around a long series of folding tables. The pleasant smell of fresh coffee was hardened by the reek of cigarettes. A gentleman with wild gray hair in dreadlocks, and a long gray beard, was seated close to the door. The attendee, wearing tattered jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with The Grateful Dead, turned to greet Barnett.  He stood and extended his hand.

“Hey man, I've never seen you here before. I’m Franklin. Nice to have you.”

David, caught off guard, hesitated and said, “Glad to meet you. I’m David Barnett. I’m lookin’ for the AA meeting.”

“Well you found it, buddy. This is where you belong. I’m an old timer here. By the way, no need to tell your last name, unless you want to. We're all sworn to anonymity. Why don’t you have a seat next to me?

“Thank you. Think I will.”

Barnett surveyed the room. There were men and women of all ages, appearing by their dress to come from varied social backgrounds. He again noticed the scent of coffee and asked his new friend if it was available. 

“Sure it is. Help yourself. The coffee, regular and decaf, sugar and cream, is on the table in the back of the room.”

David poured a cup of coffee. Returning to his seat, he walked past the end of the table and froze--he reconized someone. A doctor he knew, Neil Dewitt, was sitting just a few feet away. His colleague, a neurologist, feeling Barnett's tension, turned and broke the ice.

"Hi Dave, you look a little shocked to see me. Glad you're here. I've been a member of this group for years."

I'm surprised, Neil I had no idea."

"That's good. Shows how effective the anonymity rules are in AA. On the other hand, if you had known, it wouldn't have been a problem for me. It's nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I'm proud of myself for working so hard for my sobriety. I'm proud of you too, Dave. It's good that you're here. Truth is , I've been expecting to see you, sooner or later."

You have!! "

"Sure, I have. You think I didn't know?'

"Well, yea. Honestly, I thought my drinking was my big secret."

Neil smiled. "I was the same way--thought no one knew. When I finally fessed-up to my partners, they told me me half the medical community of Toledo was talking about me behind my back. I couldn't believe it. Suppose you don't believe it now, do you."

"No, I don't. I mean, I haven't thought anyone knew. But some people, certain nurses and docs, have been rather aloof lately. Guess I've been naive about the whole thing."

"Don't sweat it, David. Important thing is that you're here--and, that you keep coming back."

This is my first meeting in Toledo, Neil. I've been out of town for a few months."

"I know that."

"You do? You seem to know a lot about me."

"Listen, don't get shook up. People with addiction problems can spot another user a mile away. I knew you were having trouble. When you disappeared from work, I assumed you were in treatment. Like I said, don't be embarrassed. You should feel good about yourself.  I'm proud of you, I mean it. Their are plenty of docs out there who can't face the reality of their problem. They think it's a secret, just as we did, but it rarely is. Their associates know, other docs and nurses know, but unfortunately most of them don't have the guts to confront the addict. So it goes on and on, ignored until a disaster occurs. By then it's often too late."

"Neil, I'm relieved to see you here. I feel better already."

"Okay, Barnett, the meeting's starting. We can talk more later."

"I'd like that. Thanks." David returned to his seat.

The meeting began with the same ceremonial readings David knew from his recovery program. He was surprised at how uniform and universal they were. He thought, no matter what AA group you attend, anywhere on the planet, the protocol is virtually identical: How it works, The Promises, The Twelve Steps, The Twelve traditions, the remarks about anonymity and “What is said here, stays here.” It was all familiar to David from his time in Atlanta. 

After completion of the standard readings, the moderator asked if there were any newcomers or first time visitors. No hands went up. David, unnerved, turned to Franklin, who whispered. “Go ahead. Just give your name and a few words about who you are.”

Barnett raised his hand. “I’m new here. “ 

The moderator said, “Welcome. Please tell us who you are and a bit about why you’re here.”

He knew the standard intro. "Hello, I'm David. I'm an alcoholic."

The others called out in a loud, uniform response."Hi, David !" echoed through the room.

Barnett went on. "I just returned to Toledo from a recovery program in Atlanta. Been a drinker for a long time.”

The moderator welcomed the new member again and asked the others to introduce themselves. An elderly woman across from David started.

“I’m Margaret. I’m an alcoholic,” was followed by “Hi, Margaret.” Similar intros went around the table, returning to Barnett.

Once again he anounced, “Hello, I’m David. I’m an alcoholic.” He said it without hesitation and felt good about it.

During the meeting, for David’s benefit, there were many comments directed at newcomers. The conclusion was that he likely suffered from shame; ashamed about his drinking, ashamed about his life, ashamed about his divorce and ashamed about who he was. Numerous members of the group told him that he probably didn’t love himself or even like himself. The message was that they would all love him for who he was, and then he would eventually learn to love himself. Then, he would be free.

The comments brought tears to his eyes. This group of pragmatic, realistic people was completely different from the arrogant, staid, uninspired members of the physician groups he had attended in Atlanta. These were real people with real problems, and they all wanted to love him and teach him to love himself. The message was profound.

At meeting’s end, many members approached Barnett to invite him to return; asking him to consider making this his home group, and to contemplate helping with pre-meeting chores, such as making coffee and setting up the room, along with post-meeting clean up. One gentleman explained that these activities go a long way toward maintaining sobriety, in contrast to those who often arrive late and immediately disappear as soon as the meeting ends. He explained, "It's the difference between someone who really wants to be here, in contrast to those who are forced to be here--usually by a court order or an angry spouse."

Some gave David their phone numbers, asking him to call any time, whenever he needed to talk. He was also invited to meet for breakfast or lunch with a group of men who often met outside the formal group. This was a unique experience for Barnett, who had always been a loner. The doctors he had known in Atlanta were not nearly as approachable as these people in Toledo.

David felt he had finally found his niche; a group of sober-minded, matter-of-fact alcoholics, who openly accepted him.  Like him, they were all alcoholics, with only a scant number of mixed users with a history of hard drugs. There were doctors, attorneys, executives, truck-drivers, laborers, housewives, secretaries and unemployed men and women--participants of every walk of life, all with a common, unifying trait—they all wanted to be sober, at any cost.

As David walked to his car he sensed a new optimism. When he left Atlanta a week ago, he'd felt revitalized; having learned so much about himself. However, soon after he returned home he was burdened with worry and self-doubt. Would he be able to maintain his new outlook, or would old routines slowly creep back into his life? Would he drink again?

Just as he reached his car, Neil Dewitt aproached. "So, what do ya think of the group, Dave?"

"Oh, hi, Neil. The group was wonderful. Really, I felt comfortable, welcomed by everyone."

"I suppose your recovery program down south recommended you do ninety in ninety, ninety meetings in ninety days?"

"Yeah, they did. And after tonight i feel better about it. It won't be as hard as I thought."

"Be careful, Dr. Barnett. With our insane work schedules, ninety in ninety is no cake walk. I know from experience."

"Neil, I think I can do it. I'll go to meetings at six am or midnight if I have to."

"Yeah, that's easy to say, but I couldn't pull it off when I started, and I was just as determined as you. Here's a word of caution. Don't get down on yourself if you miss a meeting. I know how it feels. Missing a meeting now and then is inevitable. So, don't get discouraged when it happens. However, you should do your best to never, I mean never, miss two or three days in a row. That happens and you'll be off to the races--never to return."

"I won't let that happen. It feels too good being here. I'll never quit!"

Neil grimaced--he'd heard it all before. "Dave, have you ever heard of a pink cloud?"

"Sure, the term was tossed around a lot in Atlanta."

"The pink cloud effect is dangerous, my friend. You seem to be a bit too happy right now, perhaps euphoric about your new sobriety. An alcoholic on a pink cloud is often headed for trouble. I've been there myself. You quit drinking for a few days or weeks, or months in your case, and become overly excited and optimistic about the future. Finding an enjoyable group, as you did tonight, simply adds to the elation."

"I think I understand, Neil. I do feel optimistic--actually elated, as you say. But I'm hell-bent on doing this."

"That's good! Just don't make unrealistic committments. I've been around here for years and I've seen a number of pink clouds drift away from sobriety. Consider it a friendly warning. I'm surely on your side and I'd love to help you get started in the program."

"Thanks, I appreciate your concern and your advice."

"With that in mind, I'd like to invite you to a meeting tomorrow night. It's a closed mens group, non-smoking, fortunately. No stagnate, smoke filled air as we had tonight. The group meets at the Wayne Trail elementary school in Maumee.""Sure, I know where that is. I'd like to go."

"Great. It starts at eight o'clock. Lets meet out front a little before eight?"

"Sounds good, Neil. I'll be there."

"See you tomorrow."

Barnett got in his car, closed the door and sat for awhile, thinking about Neil's comments. He was glad to have found a commrade so quickly, especially one with a career so like his own. He mentally reviewed Neil's warnings. David was most concerned about his genetic predisposition to alcohol abuse; as indicated by his strong family history of the same. Now, after attending his first meeting at home, he felt confident—confident that with the help of others he could beat this thing; he'd beat the demon that had ruined his life, caused his divorce and threatened to take his career. For the first time in many months he was happy—filled with sanguine expectation about his future. Am I too happy, too excited about my new life? Am I on a pink cloud? Only time will tell.  I better be careful, cautious optimism is best.