In Vallejo California, years ago, I listened to an addict’s story while we sat at a country and western bar, drinking Diet Cokes.
Her name was Amber,, and this is what she said.
I started drinking in CA and sobered up 3 months later in Saigon. I was a nurse and wasn’t sure how I got there. I returned to California and worked at Doctor’s Hospital in Pinole. I worked night shift and told myself that it was for the extra money, but that wasn’t true. It was because I had easy access to some meds.
One night, two policemen came in and cuffed me. The court lifted my nursing license and I was told that the only way I could get my license reinstated was by completely a drug re-hab program. So I got on the wait list and finally entered re-hab.
It was three months into the program before I admitted to myself that I was truly an addict. Until then I didn’t believe I had a problem.
When I completed the program and got my nursing certificate back, I went back to Doctor’s Hospital in Pinole, where I worked at the time of my arrest. In those days lots of people were rushing to re-hab clinics and Doctor’s Hospital was starting one up.
I applied for a position, telling them what better person to run a clinic than someone who had been through the program and knew it from the inside. I got the job.
I hung a rubber chicken in the corner of my office. When I interviewed for staff, I noted their reaction to the rubber chicken because I knew the professional members of the re-hab had to be a certain kind of person.
The re-hab was established and I still work there today.
My sister and her husband and two kids live in a van. I don’t preach to her to because I know she won’t do anything about their addictions until she’s ready. But I do take milk and cereal, shoes and school stuff to make sure the kids have what they need. Until then, there is nothing else I can do for them.
We sipped on our Cokes and gazed at Amber. She seemed confident and complete. Then we got up and danced with the gang.