How I spent my last few weeks of Summer : At Camp Detox

I’m writing this not so much as an excuse, but because it happened and that to pretend otherwise would just be a lie.

I screwed up and had another relapse. I’m not happy about that, but this time I took the proper actions, accepted the fact that I needed help and couldn’t do it on my own, called my parents to let them know such, contacted my sister to arrange a lift Auto if/when it was needed, and then sat on my telephone Telephone receiver for two days to find a bed in one of Toronto’s limited drug recovery centers.

I eventually wound up at the one run by the Toronto East General Hospital, over on Danforth besides Donwoods. It has an excellent and caring staff, if you try not to include the facility director Doug Smith, who could have easily been the guy happily administering electro-shock therapy to the inmates at the old Ontario Lunatic Asylum on Queen Street West all those many years ago (read prick). Thankfully, with the exception of a few rants in the mornings, he was mostly not involved with the day to day sessions.

I’m out now. Actually, "discharged" was the proper word that was used a the time, and it wasn’t my decision.

It all came about when the week day staff decided to allow my dog Dog faceCorky to come for a visit. It had been noted in the log book, but it seems that the part-time weekend staff, specifically one, disagreed on that, but waited until the regular staff had left on the Saturday night and after the switchboard to the outbound phones had been turned off at 23h00 before letting me know that the visitation right was canceled. When I protested, citing that it had already been approved, my walk for the following day was also canceled.

Now I was angry. I don’t mind rules for the most part, but this was out of line, and I let the offending individual know how I felt, but since I was there to get help for a problem, what could I do?  I eventually stormed off in defeat and cried myself to sleep that night. You’d think that this was over but alas, no.

Sunday started off oh so slowly.

Still miserable, I just sat at a table in the cafeteria nibbling my breakfast, waiting for the phone lines to open at 10h00 so I could call and let Pamela and Drew know not to bring the dog, but then, I received a summons via the intercom system to come to the Intake desk on the main floor of the building.

It had been decided, by the previously mentioned offending one, along with another part-timer, that I had been exceedingly difficult the evening prior with no cause. They had wrote up the report and showed me how they had worded it, so that although it laid out pretty much what had happened, it left them both in the clear.

I was shocked, upset, disgusted and demoralized for about 5 minutes (Well, maybe it was more like 20) but by the time I had packed my stuff, I had already laid out my options.

Since I had already booked another assessment even before checking into Toronto East with CAMH (Donwoods) I could still follow through on my commitment to myself to obtain the help I needed, so really the T.E had served it’s purpose. The staff and facility had given me the time I needed to get my head straightened out. Now all I really needed to do was wait until next month when I could begin Phase 2.

So, what was the point in being angry?

Yes, things could have been handled differently, but what’s done is done, and I need to keep moving forward.

I just need to remember to keep my head up and not look back. I’m tired of rehashing the same old stuff over and over again.

It’s time to start living in the now. 


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