Recovery By Death

dream.

CHAPTER 1

Chaplain Brandy Benoit sat poised and interested as one of the substance abuse clients in her group therapy session was angrily cursing her in tones so loud the room vibrated with the sound of his booming voice. Mr. Davis, she interrupted calmly, I understand you're feeling singled out. The group is trying to give you some feedback on your behavior so you can see more clearly the consequences both for you and your family. No one here is trying to berate you. But, if you can't even admit you have regret for the choices you've made how can we possibly motivate you to make the changes a life in recovery requires? You have to follow the group rules. It's alright to disagree but it's unacceptable to curse people and to be disrespectful.

Mr. Davis stood and walked toward the door. You have no business leading this class. You're not even an addict. How can you possibly understand what I'm going through lady! I've had enough of this bullshit. If there is a God, he certainly isn't interested in helping me. To hear you talk all my problems are my fault. Well, they're not. I'm sorry I cursed you but you're not going to put all the blame on me. Addicts would be better off dead. I wish somebody would put me out of my misery. Tears of self-pity rolled down his cheeks. He slammed the door, dramatically punctuating his exit.

After their final meditation and group prayer, Brandy walked over to the nursing station to use the phone. She dialed the number for the psychiatric resident covering the Center. The shock of recognition passed quickly, as Brandy realized her cousin Maddy must have just started her rotation at Open Door Treatment Center. Maddy, it's Brandy. I have a client over here, Mr. Davis, who made some comments about suicide during our group this afternoon. I need for you to do a suicide assessment so we can transfer him to a psychiatric hospital if he needs more intensive help than we can provide here.

Alright Brandy, I just finished a case so I can come right over. Tell me a little about his history. It will save me some time if I don't have to search through his chart for all the pertinent information.

Well, he's lost just about everything that would be important to a person because of his alcohol and cocaine addiction. He hasn't been able to hold down a job for many years. His wife has divorced him, and his children want nothing to do with him. He's been homeless for over a year. In terms of clean time, he hasn't had more than three consecutive days of sobriety, except for time spent in treatment or jail. At the end of this month he'll face a Driving Under the Influence charge.

Sounds to me like someone with nothing to live for. I'm almost suicidal just listening to his biography.

Don't even joke about that, Maddy. Life is so precious. And everyone has the potential to change, especially with spiritual support.

Not to burst your perpetual bubble of optimism Brandy, but somehow I think Mr. Davis would disagree with you. What exactly did he say about suicide in your group?

He said addicts would be better off dead. He wished someone would put him out of his misery.

I bet he does. Okay Brandy, thanks for the heads up. I'll do the assessment and let his counselor know what I decide. I'll be over to the unit in a minute. Bye.

Bye Maddy. Brandy walked back to the chaplain's office to type up individual notes about client participation in the group she'd just held on regret and renewal. It had been one of the most disappointing and ineffective groups she'd ever held at Open Door Treatment Center. Addicts, typically, had a difficult time accepting responsibility for their choices. Even worse, they often found it impossible to believe they could deny their cravings and walk down a different, more fulfilling path. Most of the clients firmly believed they were destined to live a life of misery. Brandy chided herself for not being able to instill at least a little bit of faith or hope.

Chaplain Roscoe Graham greeted Brandy as he entered the office but she was so engrossed in typing her notes he went totally unnoticed. Earth to Brandy, do you copy?

Sorry Roscoe. I was just mentally reviewing what an abysmal failure my last group turned out to be.

Remember your lessons from seminary. We just plant the seed. God must bring it to fruition. Excuse me, I meant higher power. And people do have free will. They can always decide not to change. I believe you wouldn't be so obsessively worried about success at work if you had any kind of decent personal life.

Brandy stopped typing and gave him an icy stare with the big beautiful eyes of which he was so enamored. We've been down this road before and my feelings are unchanged. I happen to have a wonderful personal life. Is it so difficult for you to accept that some of us have a vocation to live our lives as a single person?

Perhaps it is. But you're more than just a single person; you're a solitary person. I know you'll hate me for saying this but I think you'd really benefit from getting some professional help. Any of the therapists who work here could refer you to someone really good.

And of course, I'm such a hard case I'd need someone really good. Ever since I told you we couldn't be romantically involved because of our work relationship, you've labeled me as someone with a mental health problem. I think you're the one having the problem. Brandy began typing her notes again, irritation causing her fingers to glide across the keys even faster than usual. Her dark red hair gleamed as the sunlight from the window reflected off her naturally wavy locks and made her porcelain skin appear even more translucent than it normally did.

As Brandy stood to place her notes in the bins for the secretary to file, Roscoe felt dwarfed standing next to her statuesque frame. Brandy stood two inches above him at five feet eleven inches and was blessed with a curvaceous figure carefully concealed under modest, tasteful clothing. He had several times attempted to needle her about being an Amazon but she was unmoved. Roscoe was clearly the one uncomfortable with his own physical stature, especially as he measured up next to Brandy.

You're not being fair. This has nothing to do with our working together. You've never even given me a chance. I think you at least owe me the truth about your reasons for not giving us a chance.

Alright Roscoe, I'll give it to you straight. In the seven years we've worked together I've watched you date maybe half a dozen women. Except for the initial overture you make to peak the interest of these women, what effort or initiative do you put into the relationships at all? None! You expect them to pursue you and then you become angry when they don't. You're a study in passivity. You've got the psychology of what women want all wrong. If I want to involve myself with someone who has extreme dependency needs I can adopt a child. At least in that relationship it would be normal. I could never be attracted to someone like you. Brandy felt anger rising within her. Her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest. Let's not discuss this again.

Roscoe's stunned expression and flushed face betrayed embarrassment and anger. It's almost time for the staff meeting, he said, changing the subject. I'm going on over to the auditorium. He quickly turned to leave the room, fearing he would strike her if he stayed. He walked on ahead of Brandy, nursing his wounded pride. 'Who the hell did she think she was,' he thought. After entering the auditorium, Roscoe stood around briefly speaking to one of the therapists until he saw Brandy sit down. He moved far away to the other side of the auditorium to take a seat.

Staff meetings at Open Door Treatment Center usually came and went with little notice and even less comment by the staff members. But today was different. Dr. Scott Harrison, Open Door's new medical director, was a self-styled mover and shaker who would show these therapists and nurses how successful treatment programs were run. He could visualize the force of his own innovative style and progressive approach transforming the center like a magic wand, making it a model for treatment centers around the country. Dr. Harrison strode up to the podium, new prospectus in hand, like Martin Luther ready to nail his thesis to the Whittenburg door.

The center's program director, Jayne Freeman, introduced Dr. Harrison, listing his long resume of degrees and accolades. He, in turn, beamed as he inhaled the applause and attention of his waiting audience. Thank-you, Dr. Harrison said, looking very much the picture of enthusiasm and confidence. Though he was of slight build and average height, his face was striking primarily because of his piercing hazel eyes and broad smile flashing perfect white teeth. His scholarly wireframe glasses added to the overall impression of competence and intelligence. "You've been given the opportunity to be on the cutting edge of the revolution taking place in the theory and practice of addiction treatment. Leo Tolstoy once said everyone wants to change the world but no one thinks of changing himself. But today I am asking you to change your attitudes toward the nature of addiction and toward traditional outmoded methods of treatment.

We must no longer see the addict as a personality disordered malcontent who we need to discipline with punitive attitudes and confining rules. We must accept, as part of the disease of addiction, that many failures at recovery are the norm not the exception. Addicts must not be criticized for recidivism rather let us look to our own attitudes and the nature of addiction itself, as the cause of initial treatment failure. What I am asking of you today is that you be willing to change yourself in order that we might be able to change the world for our clients.

As you leave, you will need to pick up a prospectus which outlines the details of our center's new philosophy and policies regarding the treatment of substance abuse clients. Your supervisors will go over the prospectus with you in detail, as it relates to your specific departments, at a later date. Today we unite together in our goal to help our clients recover from addiction. I look forward to working with all of you.

There was an uncomfortable silence that hung briefly over the large auditorium before supervisors and gradually staff workers initiated the mandatory round of applause common courtesy dictated be extended. Though he expected resistance, Dr. Harrison was clueless that support for his ideas would be as low as it actually was. Of the twenty-five staff members present only two thought changes in the center's policies were long overdue.

Selena Ramirez, a mental health technician, on the night shift, thought to herself, 'finally, somebody is going to put the poor client first. These nurses and therapists don't care about anything except avoiding work.' Selena was the prophetic voice of the night shift and was only content when she was criticizing others, preferably face to face. Unfortunately for Selena, the night shift was so laid back she had no chance of recruiting supporters to her various causes.

As Selena headed for the exit, Brandy accidentally bumped into her due to being off balance from carrying a load of books and papers for her next group. Watch it, Selena shouted glaring at Brandy. Selena was easily the most beautiful woman in the room but her looks were marred by the angry expression she nearly always wore like armor. Her temper continued to rise. You think you can push me around because I'm not lily white and educated like you. She continued to mutter some words in Spanish, which Brandy correctly assumed were curse words.

Brandy smiled. I'm sorry Selena. I guess I'm trying to carry too much. It was an accident. Selena ignored Brandy's apology and abruptly walked out. Brandy dutifully picked up her prospectus, but knew from the comments she'd already absorbed, she was on opposite ends of the spectrum from Dr. Harrison. She would not find much that was palatable in his prospectus. Brandy longed for changes in the center but firmly believed the rules needed to be much stricter and the program more structured. She feared what Dr. Harrison was suggesting, while well intentioned, would, nonetheless, lead to chaos. Over her years of employment at Open Door, Brandy had suggested the clients be required to complete some type of community service to instill a sense of responsibility for helping others instead of always being the ones receiving benefits. This idea fell on deaf ears. Little was expected of the substance abuse clients and, with few exceptions, they lived up to this expectation. Brandy was glad everyone was busy either eating snacks at the refreshment table or talking with peers. She could leave unnoticed.

Many of the staff members stopped to welcome Dr. Harrison as they picked up their prospectus but very few made any comments regarding his speech or the changes he planned to initiate. Out of the corner of his eye, Dr. Harrison noticed his wife, Dr. Angela Benfield, talking with one of the male therapists at the center. Scott Harrison was trying to be objective. Was it his imagination, influenced by jealousy, or did his wife always gravitate to the most handsome man in the room. He had no reason to be this insecure. Determined to put these ridiculous thoughts out of his mind, he turned his attention back to the staff surrounding him.

CHAPTER 2

Phyllis Carter, the night shift supervisor, took her prospectus, walked to the staff lounge and poured herself a cup of coffee before sitting down on the faux leather sofa. She started flipping through the prospectus desperately trying to find something to assuage her fear the new order of things was going to increase dramatically, both the amount of work and aggravation she would be forced to deal with at night. Phyllis was a petite, slender woman, always sharply dressed and appearing much younger than her fifty-two years. Some staff joked she kept her youthful appearance by assiduously avoiding work of any kind. Often Phyllis would be found sitting outside of the center, smoking and stopping substance abuse clients before they went in to register for services. None of the night staff knew for certain Phyllis was dissuading the clients from seeking treatment but all suspected that such was the case. Oddly, Phyllis said substance abuse clients held a special place in her heart because her late husband had been an unrepentant alcoholic. Phyllis read the prospectus cover to cover over the next hour. When she finally closed the heavy booklet, she smiled. It was a smile of supreme confidence in her own ability to thwart any interference in her own comfortable methods of supervising the night shift.

Brandy walked into the staff lounge after completing her last group for the day and opened the refrigerator to get a blueberry muffin she'd brought from home. The coffee looked like it had been sitting for hours so she put on a new pot. Hi Phyllis, how's it going?

Great, except I'm usually asleep at this time of the day. Brandy, it looks like we'll be working together some now that the new director has determined we need chaplaincy support on each shift.

Brandy felt a sinking feeling in her gut. What page is that on Phyllis? I haven't had a chance to read mine yet.

It's near the middle of section two. It will be a shame to split you and Roscoe up, especially since he has such a thing for you.

Phyllis, I have no idea where you get your information but Roscoe and I are co-workers and nothing more, Brandy said as she flipped through her prospectus to find the section outlining changes in the work schedule.

I wouldn't have mentioned it except Roscoe once asked me many personal questions about you, and I told him as far as I knew you weren't involved with anyone. Brandy, you should give him a chance. You're not getting any younger and you can't hope to do much better than Roscoe. It's too bad you're not shorter; you'd have more men to choose from, Phyllis said, looking Brandy over from head to foot, as if preparing to assign her a proper price for auction.

Brandy felt her lips go numb and her palms begin to sweat. She wiped her hands with her napkin. Phyllis, this is really quite intrusive. Why is everyone at Open Door so determined to have everyone paired off? Is it so unacceptable to be single?

Well, yes dear it goes against human nature. Though I'm certain if you looked unhappier people would leave you alone about it. For myself, I think you're putting on a big act. I don't believe you really want to be alone. What's the truth? You can tell me. Why isn't Roscoe you're cup of tea?

Since you don't believe me and since this is really none of your concern, I think we should drop this line of conversation. Brandy began eating her snack and tried, without success, to avoid thinking about what it would be like to work with Phyllis on the night shift. She noted with interest a single sheet of paper inserted at the front of the prospectus. It was an invitation to a cookout at the Harrison's home Friday June 14th for all the staff members of Open Door Treatment Center.

After finishing her snack, Brandy said goodbye to Phyllis and began her drive home. Brandy had moved to Radley, North Carolina to