John does not appear to be nearly as deflated as I was when I hit bottom. Not as lowdown in spirit and ‘done’ as others I have witnessed in this avocation. Even in his alcoholically stimulated state he is way too smarmy - much too self-assured and still well ensconced on the imaginary throne of “King Genius” where he reigns over all he perceives - to be experiencing the kind of abject soul sickness and desperation that is the alcoholic bottom. He tries to appeal to my ego by telling me how wonderful I am and how I am his only friend and all that bull-crap designed to get me wrapped around his little finger.
I am not to thrilled about this. In reality - - I wish he were in worse condition than he is.
Then he might hurt enough to have some of that self-centered - ego-protecting armor damaged enough to allow some humility to seep in. Right now I see none at all. Not a speck.
I am convinced that he is a real alcoholic though and that moment of inner pain and severe loss of all hope can come at any moment - when least expected - so I dare not assume. I will put in the time for this man. For now anyway.
Gosnold. It’s a name. Bartholomew Gosnold was a Brittish explorer who in the early 1600s gave Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard and the Elizabeth Islands their names. These days on the Peninsula of Doom also known as Cape Cod, Gosnold is a word that flips from the tongue and off the lips of nearly every resident like a fleck of chewed, yet un-swallowed meat sucked out from between two tee
th.It’s an institution and everyone has heard of it. Like “Belleview” in New York - just say the name Gosnold on the POD and absolutely no one thinks you are talking about the town off the coast off the Vineyard in the Elizabeth Islands - or the street that runs along the coast in Hyannis. Or about ol’ dead Bart for that matter. They know you are talking about “REHAB”.
They tried to make me go to Gosnold, I said, “No, No, No, No.”
Yeah, they wish.
John suggests that he go to Gosnold. I really can’t disagree. Not for their wonderfully effective treatment or their highly successful recovery model. They have neither. Not for the true alcoholic they don’t. I wound like to get him in there where he can be safely detoxed and given the appropriate benzos like Ativan or Librium. If they won’t take him then it will have to be my basement where we can do the Wolfman thing. Lock him in till the full moon is over, monitor his
vitals just in case we need to rush him into Cape Cod Hospital - and in a few days, after the EtOH is out of him we can then get down to business. If you understand the physical craving - the allergy - portion of alcoholism then this makes perfect sense. If you don’t, I hop you rent too appalled. A little will be OK though, but trust me we who have been blessed to do this stuff on a regular basis have been through this all before - some of us hundreds of times.The fine folks at Gosnold tell John that they will not have a bed for him until Monday and that he needs to call back in the morning at 10 AM to confirm his ‘reservation’. That’s OK by me. What will happen is that we can get him on speaking with someone who will actually do his “intake” over the phone. Then he just need arrive alive Monday morning and he can begin with the folks there. Nancy, my non-alcoholic wife is off from work on Monday and has already volunteered to play chauffeur for John - as I will not be around on Monday morning.
I tell John I’ll see him in the morning and me and Kristen leave. We decide that we could use a little unwinding after all this and so we head to for The Mall. I’ve been wanting a new earring anyway and Kristen can talk me into something for herself I am sure.
