Caduceus : Alcoholics Anonymous by cardiodoug |
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. 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 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?
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