In the early 90’s, people were lining up to get into rehab centers in California, trying to kick the drug habit.
My Aunt June lived in Vallejo CA and when I was visiting, I met one of her friends who told me her story about her journey.
Her name was Patty. She said when she was just out of nursing school and very young, she started drinking in San Fransciso and woke up 3 months later in Saigon.
Patty made her way back from Saigon and took a nursing position in Doctor’s Hospital in Pinole CA. She preferred night shift. Night shift was safer because it was easier to steal meds from the restricted cabinets.d No one seemed to notice the missing drugs. Or so she thought.
One night, a half hour after her shift started, 4 policemen came into the nursing station, put cuffs on her, and took her away. She was caught red-handed.
Patty was tried, found gullty of stealing meds for personal use and her nursing license, was taken away. The only way she could get her license re-instated was to successfully complete a residential rehabilitation program.
She enrolled and began the process. Patty told me, over a glass of cola in a country and western bar in Vallejo, that she was in the program for 3 months before she acknowledged that she was an addict. She didn’t believe she had a probem. Her sole goal was to get her license back, not change her behaviour or decisions. She needed that license.
Patty persevered and completed the program and while she was doing the required therapy, her old employer, Doctor’s Hospital was in the process of establishing a rehab center in Pinole.
Upon completion of the program, her license was re=instated. So she marched into Doctor’s Hospital and applyed for the job of Administrator for their newly prroposed rehabilitation facility. Her arugment was that she went through the process, knew it well, was aware of what kind of personnell would be appropriate and if she headed the clinic, it would give credibility.
They believed her. She was hired and enthusiasticlly began organising.
One of the details that she told me about her hiring procedure had to do with a rubber chicken, which she hung in the corner of her office, behind her desk, readily visible to anyone who entered. And she noted applicants reaction to the rubber chicken decorating her space because she knew the type of professional she needed to cope with the vagarities of working in a rehab; the stop and start progress of patients, the humor required to keep marching forward, the doggedness of insisting on rehab acitivities. And the Big Picture.
As far as I know, the facility was successful with a long waiting list of participants to be accepted.
On a personal note, her sister and brother-in-law were living in a van, with their 4 children at a local park. They were addicts. But Patty explained to me that she provides some food and milk from time to time, but doesns’t do a whole lot to support them.
She also said that only when her sister was ready, could the situatiion be changed. Patty knew better than to lecture or pontificate. Useless. Her sister had to come to that decision herself before any significant improvement could be achieved.
We had a fun evening, with lots of singing and dancing. Patty didn’t drink but everyone else in the group did. We even wore cowboy hats and twitched our rears packed into tight jeans on the dance floor.
I learned a lot from Patty; things about resilence, persevering, and making life changes. She achieved freedom and contentment.
Thank you, Patty.