FanStory.com - DUEL with the DEVIL - Chapter 12by Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 11: Brian has OD’d from snorting the Oxy to get relief from the devastating guilt he feels at the death of his cat, which he caused by his neglect while under the influence of Oxy. (Kind of moronic to take Oxy to escape the harm caused by Oxy! I guess you could call him an Oxy-moron.) He vomited and aspirated it into his lungs, and the coughing attracts Fran, who discovers him and gives him Narcan to reverse the effects of the overdose. Paramedics come, but Fran says she will handle it by staying up all night with him, which she does.

In the morning, she confronts him, and Brian confesses everything that is going on. Together they agree he will go to rehab.

Chapter 12

Looking back on the night of the overdose 15 years ago, it still amazes me how close I had come to suffering the ultimate penalty for my drug addiction. I nearly became a victim myself of my self-centered neglect of poor Chloe. It was an overdue wake-up call that I needed to force myself to make some difficult choices. I also realize now that I probably lacked the strength to do it by myself, and I am ever thankful for the help Fran gave me in confronting and understanding this affliction. But she is not the only one to help, and this would not be the only time I needed it, as we shall see.

Fran had heard good things about a place in greater Winston-Salem called Salem Behavioral Health, or SBH, as it was called, and she phoned them that night after work. They had an opening for me in their youth program, and she made an appointment for us to visit and check it out the following day—a Friday morning.

Fran was able to take the day off from work, and we arrived there that morning a few minutes before 10:00. The place looked like a rustic lodge in the North Carolina woods. Overlooking a small lake, it was secluded and beautiful there. The trees were changing colors, but the leaves had not yet begun to fall.

We met with the assistant director, who described the various programs available. After discussion of the options, we mutually decided on an outpatient treatment program in which I would spend four hours a day there for a period of four weeks. I would commute and go home each evening.

This decision was based on the fact that it was my first time in rehab, and I didn’t have any co-occurring mental health issues like anxiety or depression. I would begin coming on Monday. The assistant director agreed with Fran that I see the staff psychiatrist, who could set me up with a withdrawal program that I would begin right away.

The assistant director scheduled a meeting for us at 2:00. In the meantime, we were given a tour of the facility and had lunch in the cafeteria. The food was pretty decent. We sat at a table that overlooked the lake. With the reds and golds of the maples and ashes bordering the lake on full display on this sunny day, it was a captivating view.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this,” said Fran.

“Yeah, me too. That fried chicken was the bomb.” She laughed.

“A couple of people at work spoke very highly of the staff here, especially the ones who work with youth. They said they really seem to understand kids and their issues. I think it’s going to be the kind of thing that you get out of it what you put into it, and that to be successful will require a good effort on your part.”

“Yeah, I think I get that. No half-assing it. This pie’s pretty good too.”

“I hope you’re going to take this seriously, Brian.”

“I’m messing with you. Of course, I will. I know I can’t keep going the way I’ve been going. I want to get over this. I just want the pain to go away too.”

“I was going to wait to see what the arrangement here would be first, but since you won’t be here full-time, I’ll make an appointment for you with the spine doctor as soon as possible.”

“Thanks, Fran.”

We sat there for a while longer, but soon it was time for the appointment with the psychiatrist. We bussed our dishes then headed to his office.

Based on the length of time I’d been taking them and the strength of the pills I’d been taking, he decided on a three-month taper-off schedule. I would get the pills here each day while my program lasted, then he would provide me with a prescription for the remainder and put Fran in charge of doling them out to me daily for the duration. He gave Fran the pills to take through the weekend, but starting Monday, I would get them here.

We thanked him, and Fran and I left soon after that.

The arrangement was for me to attend my morning classes at high school, then come here at noon, have lunch, and begin my daily routine at 1:00.

Most of my academic classes were in the morning, so I wouldn’t miss too much that was important. Fran gave me a note to show to the teachers of the classes I would miss, and they said they would provide me with the assignments for the next three weeks.

Following lunch on Monday, the first activity I attended here was group therapy for youth led by a young counselor named Rafael Ortiz, or Raffi for short. He was the son of Cuban immigrants who had emigrated to the US in the ‘70s. He was born in the US and grew up here, eventually going to college at the University of North Carolina, where he majored in psychology. He was in his late 20s and had been working here for four years.

I looked around at the kids in the group. There were six of us arranged in a circle of chairs—three boys, including me, two girls, and one who I wasn’t sure about, but I think was a girl. One who was unquestionably a girl looked to be about my age, while the others, including the boys, seemed a bit younger. This group was for youths aged 12 to 17.

The girl who was close to my age was very cute. She had shortish brown hair that had a few purple streaks in front and a fawn-like face with brown eyes, which she kept looking downward. She was small and pixyish.

“Alright, group, we have a new member with us today named Brian Kendrick. Brian, the way this works is that when we get a new member, I ask them if they’d like to share their story about how they ended up here, but usually not on their first day. You won’t have to if you don’t want to, but you may find it helpful if you choose to share. After a few days, when you have a better feel for the group, I’ll give you the chance if you decide to.

“Julia, you joined the group a couple days ago. Would you like to share your story with us today?”

He was addressing the cute one who sat there, still looking down. She didn’t say anything, and Raffi prompted her again.

“Julia?”

After another long pause, still looking down, she said in a quiet voice, “I don’t think I fit in here very well… or anywhere for that matter.”

Raffi said, “All of us feel like that at some point, as if we are just different, and no one can understand our problems. Each of our stories is unique, yet we are all bound together by a common thread, which is addiction. The way you got here will be different, but the end result is the same for all of us, myself included, and in that sense, you fit in here. Sometimes sharing the details of your journey here helps you realize where you went wrong, and at some point, we’ll have a discussion about things you might have done instead.”

She looked up at Raffi right then, and after a moment, she began her story.