I wasn’t getting my drugs back and I knew it. But my desperation took over in the moment. They were taking away my lifeline. I certainly hadn’t expected to use my drugs very much, just enough to keep focused and help make it through the first few days. But they were ruining all my plans.
“Mr. Levy, you’re here to get help and so is everyone else. We can’t have these substances in the facility,” Mr. March explained.
“What about my damn shoelaces? How the hell am I supposed to go for a run?”
“Mr. Levy, for the safety of yourself and all the others on the unit, we can’t have any items that are dangerous and potentially lethal to a suicidal patient.”
I understood the reasoning; it’s not like I was a total idiot or anything, I just hated the feeling of being told what to do. I had never really done well under authority, but I had promised Spencer I didn’t have a problem. If I threw a fit and left after only an hour, I surely couldn’t convince anyone that I had control over my behavior.
It took everything I had inside of me to keep from turning into a giant asshole though. They didn’t know me well enough to be stealing all my things. They didn’t know that I would never harm myself, at least not on purpose. As I took a few deep breaths, I knew that I couldn’t stay if I didn’t calm down. People who acted like out of control maniacs weren’t looked at all that kindly. So, I finally breathed out a long sigh as I gave in to them.
“Fine.”
“Mr. Levy, I’ll have one of the staff get you some elastics for your shoes. They are quite ingenious, actually. Hold your shoes together and you don’t have to tie them at all.”
“Whatever. Can I have some time to myself now?”
“Sure, Officer Pinter and I will head out for now. Please let the nurses or your unit technician know if you need anything. We will do our best to make you as comfortable as possible.”
“Sure you will.”
There was nothing about this situation that seemed like it was going to be comfortable. Although I didn’t have a problem with drugs or alcohol, I had become pretty accustomed to using both on a daily basis. I had only brought a small supply so I could wean myself off of the stuff and wouldn’t have to go through difficult withdrawals.
They didn’t understand how hard it would be to just stop cold turkey, or they didn’t care. I wasn’t trying to keep using forever; I simply wanted a tapering off period. After my hospital stay, I knew I couldn’t go more than a couple days without a little something. But if I just used a tiny bit over the first few weeks, I knew the withdrawals would be so much more tolerable.
“Wait, where the hell is the door to my room?” I hollered after the two men.
Everyone in the main area looked at me. I looked around and noticed only a few of the rooms actually had doors on them. They couldn’t even offer patients the privacy of having doors on their rooms. Why the hell was I paying such an enormous amount of money for a treatment program that couldn’t even afford doors?
“You can earn a room with a door once you’ve finished detoxing and attended groups as scheduled. Your therapist and doctor will recommend the room change when they feel you can be safe.”
“What the hell!”
I turned and went back into my room and threw my suitcase off the
bed and onto the floor. That action felt so good that I continued to grab anything I could and throw it around the room. I threw the blankets. I threw the pillows. Then, I grabbed the weird, orb-shaped lamp that didn’t have a cord and threw that. I had expected it to break, but instead, it bounced off the ground and made a loud thud.
“Everything all right in here?” the nurse came and asked as she stood in the doorway.
“What the hell is that made of?”
“It’s just a plastic, battery-powered lamp. It’s not breakable.”
“Well, that’s shitty.”
She laughed and came in to help me pick up the mess I had made. It was nice of her, so I didn’t yell at her or continue my little tirade. In fact, I started to feel pretty shitty for throwing a tantrum at all. This was exactly the person I didn’t want to be.
“What’s your name?” I asked as we started to make the bed.
“Kaitlin.”
“You are friends with the redheaded nurse?”
“She’s not a nurse. Cassidy is a technician on the unit.”
“What’s that mean?”
“She helps the nurses, she helps the patients, and she’s a nice person. Don’t be an ass to her or I’ll kick your ass.”