Silence is pure bliss…well…it is in most circumstances anyway. Not when your stuck in a rehab while high on pills. Silence is pretty fucking depressing when your laying down on quite possibly the most uncomfortable bed ever invented, all alone, with nothing to fill the empty space of absolute silence, but thoughts of how miserable you are, how much you want another pill, and just how badly you fucked up your life. I didn’t think it could possibly get much worse than that. Then again, I hadn’t been to prison yet…had I?
I had a plethora of different emotions, thoughts, and memories going through my mind as I restlessly laid there. I thought of my friends and what they were possibly doing at that moment. I thought of my family, mostly my parents, and wondered if they were okay…I mean…since I was in rehab for drug addiction and all. I thought of the countless women from over the years…whatever ones I could remember anyway…lol…and smiled to myself. I thought of everything I had done thus far, the many places I’ve seen, the people I’ve met, and how it had been a wild ride. I smiled, I felt lucky. Then as I thought more and more of the good, I started to feel pretty shitty. I started to realize how I had thrown it all away. I had literally sniffed my life away. I began to grow sad, hopeless…like “Oh…woe is fucking me”…then I had a bright idea…I could do it again, I’d just start hustling again. I’d make some more money, and this time I’d do it right, I’d be smart. I’d stay clean, I wouldn’t sniff a single pill this time around. That was the key…right? Yeah, that’s what I would do…I’d get cleaned up at rehab and as soon as I got out of there I’d call my former friend and be on a flight to Florida. I closed my eyes and smiled. I remember falling asleep…or maybe it was all the pills I had sniffed and I was nodding off. Either way, I was out like a light.
After a short while, my nap…or my drug induced coma…whichever way you want to look at it…and the silence…was disrupted by what sounded like a small stampede. I remember thinking to myself…“Fucking pissa. It’s bad enough I’m stuck here in this miserable room, laying on these itchy ass sheets, and now I cant even nap?” I heard all sorts of random voices, yelling, laughter and mixed conversations, and it grew louder as it presumably neared my room. It was either my new roommates or someone freed the animals from the zoo in the next town over. Sadly, I didn’t hear one female voice among the bunch. If there was one, she was silent, or had possibly the deepest voice I’ve ever heard. Now I’m not saying I was trying to pick up a woman in rehab or anything…I mean I was engaged and all…although that would have made for an interesting story…all I am saying is that I enjoy the company of women, and it would have been nice to have one, or several for that matter, around while I was stuck in fort detox.
As soon as I headed into the corridor to see what all the commotion was about, I was immediately let down. As I had assumed, there wasn’t a female in sight. The only females out there were the nurses I had mentioned before…whom…unless I was still paranoid…were still looking my way. All that occupied the hallway were a bunch of suspicious looking males of all different ages and ethnic backgrounds. My hopes of the rehab hookup were deflated…lol.
As I turned to head back to my room to avoid any awkward introductions or interactions, I heard someone call out my name. (I wasn’t trying to make friendly with anyone else just yet. As I mentioned before, I wasn’t in a good mood being there, and truth be told, I was just awoken from my drug induced slumber by these people, so I didn’t go out there with open arms ready to make friends). The only thing I can remember thinking was…“Fuck!! I guess this whole little trip to rehab isn’t going to be a secret for much longer.” Then I realized, “Wait…who the fuck knows me all the way up here? This cant be good…”
When I turned around ever so slowly, not knowing what to expect, I was surprised to see my old friend Anthony heading my way. Let me tell you, I have never been so happy to see a familiar face in an unfamiliar place in my entire life. I practically ran over to him, all smiles, to give him dap and a hug. Now I won’t get too into how I know Anthony. Let’s just say that I met him through an old flame of mine’s little brother. We had hung out and partied together in both Boston and LA. I hadn’t seen him in a few years. If memory serves me correctly, the last time was out in LA, right before I went on BB9. It had indeed been a while. Seeing him changed my whole mood and my outlook on being there. As if to say, “Fuck it, it’s all good now. Now I won’t have to be stuck in here all alone…I have a friend to kick it with while I kick drugs…this could be alright after all.”
Anthony and I played catch up for the next few hours while he showed me around my new digs. He had gotten there a day or two before I did, so he pretty much knew the ins and outs already. He basically gave me a rundown on how the joint was run…how the other inmates…or should I say patients were…how the food was…the schedule…meetings…the staff…you know…all that good stuff.
In talking with Anthony, I learned that the staff members (nurses, counselors, case managers, etc) were pretty laid back for the most part, which pleased me. The last thing I wanted while I was detoxing was to be around unfriendly or aggravating people. I knew how bad withdrawals sucked and how they were going to fuck with my emotional and mental state. What if a nurse decided to be super nurse on a bitchy power trip, while I was mid-withdrawal…well let’s just say it wouldn’t have been pleasant for either of us. So…it was really a relief to hear that they were all chill. He did tell me however, that the one thing that they were extremely strict about was the med line. I was told that I had to be on time and there was to be absolutely no talking. By the way, for those who don’t know what the hell a med line is…it’s a line formed by the patients, three times daily, to receive whatever type of meds that the clinic put them on to help detoxify from whatever type of street drug(s) they were abusing. For example…heroin users typically got methadone at a high dose, oxy users (such as myself) had the choice of the clonidine and librium cocktail or a low dose methadone taper. Cocaine users got librium, etc. You get the idea. The reason they were so strict about med line, as I would learn, is because patients would try to pull such moves as hitting the line up twice for double the fun, or better yet, they would go up, pretend to take their meds but really cheek them, and then in turn sell them to other patients later on… so unless I tried to pull any stunts, I wouldn’t be bothered. I could detox in peace.
I also learned the rest of the ins and outs of the place…there were to be daily NA meetings, in which an outside guest would come in and speak…there were to be other daily group therapy sessions, and better yet, one-on-one sessions with whoever my case manager was…there were smoke breaks every 15-20 minutes in the backyard…to make outgoing phone calls, there were two payphones in the corridor…there were two vending machines, a TV room, ping-pong table, and two random tables that were used by the patients for illegal poker tournaments at night time…right up my alley…the food was edible and they even served coffee every morning. Truth be told, after walking around and talking with my friend, I had a whole new outlook on the whole rehab thing. It still sucked being there…don’t get me wrong…but I guess I was starting to feel like it wasn’t THAT bad.
After I got the grand tour and the rundown on how the place operated, I got introduced to a few of the normal guys there. There weren’t many, let me tell you. Now, I’m not one to pass judgement on others. I realize I’m no prize myself, but some of the dudes in there were straight up trash, well beyond fixing…however, I actually met a few cool guys during my time spent there. There were these two brothers from Woburn that I ended up kicking it with hard body until I got out. There was a younger kid from Stoneham that Anthony knew from before, so he chilled with us. There were a few others from around the Boston area that I also became friendly with. All in all, even though I was in a shitty place, it didn’t mean I was surrounded by shitty people. These were guys like me who had just made a few poor choices along the way. I wasn’t alone in battling addiction after all. I met dudes from all walks of life and I came to the realization that addiction can really happen to anybody, regardless of social or economic status, and that scared the fuck out of me. Shit, what scared me even more was when I told some of the patients that I was friendly with, what drugs I was there for and that it was my first (and hopefully last) time in rehab…they laughed, as if to say…that’s it??! That really fucked me up. Now mind you, I was sniffing like 20 pills a day and a bunch of cocaine sporadically during the course of a week up until I walked up in there. For them to say “THAT’S IT” made me really start to think a lot about life and where mine was heading. It also almost made me thankful that there may still have been hope for me after all….
When the evening was coming to an end and it was time for a smoke break, I told the guys that I was chilling with that I’d be right back so I could go grab a hoodie out of my luggage, since it was nighttime and getting a little chilly outside. When I came back to join in on the conversation and smoke a cigarette with my new compadres, I remember reaching in my hoodie pocket and feeling something very familiar, more like a few somethings that were very familiar. To my new friends and my surprise, I pulled out a few blueberries. Yes, I guess I was one of the idiots who smuggled drugs INTO a rehab. Now I didn’t do this on purpose. Remember, I used to have so many of these things…and I had them everywhere. All I can remember saying, while smiling yet struggling with conflict, was….”What you fellas tryin’ to do?!……
(To be continued)…
mattymcdonald 