We live in a society that says it encourages understanding, compassion, empathy, non-discrimination and yes, that addiction is a disease. But that is not how it is treated. It just isn't and that is the truth.
Melanoma, emphysema, heart disease, high blood pressure...
When we are sick we go to the hospital. A safe haven. A place for help. A place for hope.
Not always.
Excerpt/The Sun is Gone: Page 182;
Almost three weeks in that hell hole, we knew he needed to safely withdrawal, so we got him in the car and swiftly drove to the Detox center. I jumped out but was back almost immediately and spoke quietly explaining what I had feared, that they were full to capacity and couldn’t help us. They apologized and suggested that we come back early tomorrow morning. We both knew Brett couldn’t wait until tomorrow without having something to drink, so we headed to our only other option-an emergency room.
We sat about an hour, waiting to be seen. Brett’s leg rattling with anxiety until he was brought into a private room. We explained to the nurse, not that we needed to as it was very clear by his scruffy appearance and glassy eyes, that Brett was severely intoxicated and needed help come off the booze. And, she began to take his vitals.
It wasn’t her cold, disassociated approach to taking my brother’s blood pressure, pricking his arm with a needle or asking him how much he has had to drink that began to make my blood boil. It was the fact that she absolutely loathed him, and it was obvious. For the first time ever, I felt what my brother felt, like a bolt of electricity running through my veins. I felt judgment. Pure unadulterated judgment. As she left the room, I scampered quickly behind her catching up in front of the nurse’s station.
“Excuse me,” I said. She didn’t hear me so I repeated myself. She turned around to look at me. “Hi. Listen, I don’t mean to be rude. I completely understand and appreciate how hard your job is and how many different things you must see. I even get that on some level that maybe to you my brother isn’t sick in the same way as most of the people here, and that you believe this may be purely self-induced. What I need to remind you is that he is a human being.”
She didn’t blink.
I continued, “Now I don’t care what you did yesterday, or how you are tomorrow, all I care about is that for right now, when you come into that room, you show a little compassion as that is a person in there. A person! That is someone’s brother, someone’s son and what you very obviously perceive as completely disgusting, someone loves them. Do you think you can do that?”
I didn’t give her time to answer.
“Cause if you can’t, then what I suggest is that for the next hour or so you FAKE IT!”
I walked away, so I didn’t have to look at her stony expression for another second. I caught my breath as I was so overwhelmingly pissed off, before stepping through the door and sitting quietly in the corner of my brother’s room.
I do have understanding and appreciation for how hard nurses work – after all, my mother is a nurse - and I can imagine that they see all sorts of things. But that’s their job, a job that they chose. To very obviously treat someone, whatever their circumstance, like they are below dirt I could not take. As I looked at my brother at his worst, like I had done so many times before, all I thought was he is in there.
The doctor arrived a short time later, bearing the not so surprising bad news; they couldn’t keep him overnight as all the beds were full. Although I appreciate he did give him a shot of Valium before they sent us on our way. At least I think it was Valium, which I understood by now belongs to the class of medications called benzodiazepines. It is used for the short-term relief of symptoms of mild to moderate anxiety or alcohol withdrawal. We knew that at least would help him get through the night and advised us to head back to the Detox center in the morning; there was nothing more he could do. A completely different nurse came back into the room only with the same face. Kind, compassionate and caring and as we left, she said, “Take care of yourself, Brett.”
I whispered thank you to her as we walked out the door, and I hope she knew how much I meant it.
My brother didn't have high blood pressure due to being overweight, skin cancer due to exposure from the sun, emphysema from years of smoking or even heart disease from eating too many fatty foods. No, he did not fall into any of these categories, because if he did this chapter would not have happened.
My brother was an alcoholic from taking his first sip of alcohol during high school.
Shame on him?
I need to emphasize that during my journey we personally met many professionals that showed nothing but compassion, support, understanding and commitment to help those like my brother that are struggling with alcohol and drug dependence. To those individuals I am forever grateful.
Our health care system is wonderful in many ways, and falls short on others. We need to make available help for those in desperate need, and educate doctors and nurses on this epidemic of addiction. Pardon me, let's rephrase; on this epidemic of the disease of addiction. These are our mother's, father's, children, friends, co-workers and neighbors.
And to be fair to the nurse who treated us, it is my hope that those of us in the world of addiction also show compassion and understanding to those that judge us, to hold your head high, and if you can change so can they.
Together we CAN make a difference.
www.hopeandhumility.com
Jodee Prouse is an Author of the upcoming memoir: THE SUN IS GONE
Melanoma, emphysema, heart disease, high blood pressure...
When we are sick we go to the hospital. A safe haven. A place for help. A place for hope.
Not always.
Excerpt/The Sun is Gone: Page 182;
Almost three weeks in that hell hole, we knew he needed to safely withdrawal, so we got him in the car and swiftly drove to the Detox center. I jumped out but was back almost immediately and spoke quietly explaining what I had feared, that they were full to capacity and couldn’t help us. They apologized and suggested that we come back early tomorrow morning. We both knew Brett couldn’t wait until tomorrow without having something to drink, so we headed to our only other option-an emergency room.
We sat about an hour, waiting to be seen. Brett’s leg rattling with anxiety until he was brought into a private room. We explained to the nurse, not that we needed to as it was very clear by his scruffy appearance and glassy eyes, that Brett was severely intoxicated and needed help come off the booze. And, she began to take his vitals.
It wasn’t her cold, disassociated approach to taking my brother’s blood pressure, pricking his arm with a needle or asking him how much he has had to drink that began to make my blood boil. It was the fact that she absolutely loathed him, and it was obvious. For the first time ever, I felt what my brother felt, like a bolt of electricity running through my veins. I felt judgment. Pure unadulterated judgment. As she left the room, I scampered quickly behind her catching up in front of the nurse’s station.
“Excuse me,” I said. She didn’t hear me so I repeated myself. She turned around to look at me. “Hi. Listen, I don’t mean to be rude. I completely understand and appreciate how hard your job is and how many different things you must see. I even get that on some level that maybe to you my brother isn’t sick in the same way as most of the people here, and that you believe this may be purely self-induced. What I need to remind you is that he is a human being.”
She didn’t blink.
I continued, “Now I don’t care what you did yesterday, or how you are tomorrow, all I care about is that for right now, when you come into that room, you show a little compassion as that is a person in there. A person! That is someone’s brother, someone’s son and what you very obviously perceive as completely disgusting, someone loves them. Do you think you can do that?”
I didn’t give her time to answer.
“Cause if you can’t, then what I suggest is that for the next hour or so you FAKE IT!”
I walked away, so I didn’t have to look at her stony expression for another second. I caught my breath as I was so overwhelmingly pissed off, before stepping through the door and sitting quietly in the corner of my brother’s room.
I do have understanding and appreciation for how hard nurses work – after all, my mother is a nurse - and I can imagine that they see all sorts of things. But that’s their job, a job that they chose. To very obviously treat someone, whatever their circumstance, like they are below dirt I could not take. As I looked at my brother at his worst, like I had done so many times before, all I thought was he is in there.
The doctor arrived a short time later, bearing the not so surprising bad news; they couldn’t keep him overnight as all the beds were full. Although I appreciate he did give him a shot of Valium before they sent us on our way. At least I think it was Valium, which I understood by now belongs to the class of medications called benzodiazepines. It is used for the short-term relief of symptoms of mild to moderate anxiety or alcohol withdrawal. We knew that at least would help him get through the night and advised us to head back to the Detox center in the morning; there was nothing more he could do. A completely different nurse came back into the room only with the same face. Kind, compassionate and caring and as we left, she said, “Take care of yourself, Brett.”
I whispered thank you to her as we walked out the door, and I hope she knew how much I meant it.
My brother didn't have high blood pressure due to being overweight, skin cancer due to exposure from the sun, emphysema from years of smoking or even heart disease from eating too many fatty foods. No, he did not fall into any of these categories, because if he did this chapter would not have happened.
My brother was an alcoholic from taking his first sip of alcohol during high school.
Shame on him?
I need to emphasize that during my journey we personally met many professionals that showed nothing but compassion, support, understanding and commitment to help those like my brother that are struggling with alcohol and drug dependence. To those individuals I am forever grateful.
Our health care system is wonderful in many ways, and falls short on others. We need to make available help for those in desperate need, and educate doctors and nurses on this epidemic of addiction. Pardon me, let's rephrase; on this epidemic of the disease of addiction. These are our mother's, father's, children, friends, co-workers and neighbors.
And to be fair to the nurse who treated us, it is my hope that those of us in the world of addiction also show compassion and understanding to those that judge us, to hold your head high, and if you can change so can they.
Together we CAN make a difference.
www.hopeandhumility.com
Jodee Prouse is an Author of the upcoming memoir: THE SUN IS GONE
