making me
answer all these questions again? How am I supposed to keep all these details
straight? I hate this fucking questionnaire. Yes. No.
Do all of your friends drink
alcohol on a regular basis? Finally, an easy question. Yes. I bloody well hope so.
Have you ever been arrested
for drunk driving? Another easy one. No. Hah! See? I obviously don’t have a problem. I’m a safe drunk. I take cabs, I
walk, sometimes I let other people drive drunk, but I never do. Never. Well,
except for that one time when I drove Zack’s truck in high school, but that was
just in a field, and I’d only had like three wine coolers, maybe four.
Do you have a family history
of alcoholism? Mmm . . . didn’t Uncle Brad have to go
away for a while? Wait. Was that rehab or just a mental institution? How did he
end up there again? Oh, right. He found his girlfriend kissing some other guy at
a bar and went crazy, smashing up the bar and the guy and maybe even his
girlfriend. Then he went on a three-day bender that ended when he wrapped his
car around a tree. Or something like that. It was hard to catch all the details
my mother was whispering over the phone to her sister.I never saw Uncle Brad drinking any alcohol after that, though. He
always asked for seltzer. So, I guess . . . Yes.
Last question. Do you use
drugs on a regular basis? No, I write. Only since I came
to rehab.
I must’ve passed the test, because Carol’s leading me to my new digs in the
women’s wing, where I’ll spend the rest of my stay. As we walk through the
building, she explains that the Oasis presently has twelve patients and that
they never have more than twenty at any time.
I guess at $1,000 a day they can afford to keep it
exclusive.
“You’re going to be rooming with Amy,” Carol says
as we walk through the large common room that occupies the back of the main
building. “We like to pair newcomers with patients who’ve been working the
program well.”
“Does that mean she’ll be my sponsor?”
“No, you’ll get a sponsor when you join an AA or NA
group once you go home. Our focus is on cognitive therapy. You’ll learn how to
develop skills that will help you cope with life without using drugs or
alcohol.”
Right, I remember. Coping
skills, Days Five through forever.
“Is that what we do in group?”
“That’s right, but also in your individual therapy
sessions, which will be more focused on your particular issues. Your first
session is tomorrow morning with Dr. Bennett, who also leads group therapy.”
“So, that’s all we do? Individual therapy in the
morning and group in the afternoon?”
“We have guest speakers sometimes as well.”
Now that sounds more interesting.
“Like celebrities?”
She frowns. “The speakers are generally former
patients who’ve stayed sober. But since you brought it up . . .
As you already know, we sometimes do have celebrity patients, but it’s important
not to treat them any differently. They’re just like you: addicts trying to get
help.”
“So who’s here? Would I know them?”
“Katie . . .”
“OK, OK, I got it. No asking for autographs. Don’t
worry. I can behave.”
She stops in front of a nondescript door. “Good.
Well, here we are.”
She knocks and opens the door. The room is much
like the one I just left (barred window, simple furnishings, blue bedspreads,
faint whiff of institution) but big enough for two twin beds with a nightstand
in between. There’s evidence of my new roommate on the bed nearest the door, but
she’s nowhere to be seen.
“Group starts in twenty minutes in the common room.
I’ve left a list of the house rules on your bed. Do you need anything else?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
She pulls me into another one of her tight hugs. I
give her back a few halfhearted pats, hoping she won’t notice my lack of
response.
“This is where it really starts, Katie. And you
only get out what you put in.”
Funny, that’s the same thing my trainer said
answer all these questions again? How am I supposed to keep all these details
straight? I hate this fucking questionnaire. Yes. No.
Do all of your friends drink
alcohol on a regular basis? Finally, an easy question. Yes. I bloody well hope so.
Have you ever been arrested
for drunk driving? Another easy one. No. Hah! See? I obviously don’t have a problem. I’m a safe drunk. I take cabs, I
walk, sometimes I let other people drive drunk, but I never do. Never. Well,
except for that one time when I drove Zack’s truck in high school, but that was
just in a field, and I’d only had like three wine coolers, maybe four.
Do you have a family history
of alcoholism? Mmm . . . didn’t Uncle Brad have to go
away for a while? Wait. Was that rehab or just a mental institution? How did he
end up there again? Oh, right. He found his girlfriend kissing some other guy at
a bar and went crazy, smashing up the bar and the guy and maybe even his
girlfriend. Then he went on a three-day bender that ended when he wrapped his
car around a tree. Or something like that. It was hard to catch all the details
my mother was whispering over the phone to her sister.I never saw Uncle Brad drinking any alcohol after that, though. He
always asked for seltzer. So, I guess . . . Yes.
Last question. Do you use
drugs on a regular basis? No, I write. Only since I came
to rehab.
I must’ve passed the test, because Carol’s leading me to my new digs in the
women’s wing, where I’ll spend the rest of my stay. As we walk through the
building, she explains that the Oasis presently has twelve patients and that
they never have more than twenty at any time.
I guess at $1,000 a day they can afford to keep it
exclusive.
“You’re going to be rooming with Amy,” Carol says
as we walk through the large common room that occupies the back of the main
building. “We like to pair newcomers with patients who’ve been working the
program well.”
“Does that mean she’ll be my sponsor?”
“No, you’ll get a sponsor when you join an AA or NA
group once you go home. Our focus is on cognitive therapy. You’ll learn how to
develop skills that will help you cope with life without using drugs or
alcohol.”
Right, I remember. Coping
skills, Days Five through forever.
“Is that what we do in group?”
“That’s right, but also in your individual therapy
sessions, which will be more focused on your particular issues. Your first
session is tomorrow morning with Dr. Bennett, who also leads group therapy.”
“So, that’s all we do? Individual therapy in the
morning and group in the afternoon?”
“We have guest speakers sometimes as well.”
Now that sounds more interesting.
“Like celebrities?”
She frowns. “The speakers are generally former
patients who’ve stayed sober. But since you brought it up . . .
As you already know, we sometimes do have celebrity patients, but it’s important
not to treat them any differently. They’re just like you: addicts trying to get
help.”
“So who’s here? Would I know them?”
“Katie . . .”
“OK, OK, I got it. No asking for autographs. Don’t
worry. I can behave.”
She stops in front of a nondescript door. “Good.
Well, here we are.”
She knocks and opens the door. The room is much
like the one I just left (barred window, simple furnishings, blue bedspreads,
faint whiff of institution) but big enough for two twin beds with a nightstand
in between. There’s evidence of my new roommate on the bed nearest the door, but
she’s nowhere to be seen.
“Group starts in twenty minutes in the common room.
I’ve left a list of the house rules on your bed. Do you need anything else?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
She pulls me into another one of her tight hugs. I
give her back a few halfhearted pats, hoping she won’t notice my lack of
response.
“This is where it really starts, Katie. And you
only get out what you put in.”
Funny, that’s the same thing my trainer said
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