Aversion- A tendency to extinguish a behavior or to avoid a thing or situation and especially a usually pleasurable one because it is or has been associated with a noxious stimulus.
Going to treatment for alcoholism was definitely necessary but why I chose aversion therapy remains to be seen. I guess it goes right along with my extreme personality. Ten days of shock therapy and I'd be good as new. I must have killed a lot brain cells to have had that train of thought? There is only one place in the world, that I know of, that practices this type of therapy and it happens to be in Seattle, Wa. The benefit is that you only spend ten days in the facility then you're off with two years of online counseling and phone-in meetings. It was ideal for my circumstances at the time. I was excited to be there and couldn't wait to get started.
My first trip into the treatment room was a bit of a shock, no pun intended. The nurse that took my paperwork the day before asked me a multitude of questions. I didn't really know what to expect so it didn't seem odd that she wanted to know what I liked to drink. Everything that I liked to drink in fact from wine to beer to tequila. Why did I say tequila? Never should have said tequila! It was all waiting for me in the treatment room the next day.
The room was tiny. There were a few bottles of my select beverage, a few smaller, clear glasses and a rag beside me. There was a mirror directly in front of where I was seated as well as a built in, what looked like, silver mixing bowl. The nurse explained that she was going to give me a shot that would produce sweat, tremors and nausea. After that kicked in I got to drink a substance called emetine. This stuff is nasty! It's made from the ipecac root, which will make you vomit anything that's in your system and then some until the bitter end.
I can't remember what I drank first, it was probably wine. Then beer and maybe some gin. I always finished with tequila. After the initial swish and spit of each drink, I'd have to get the rest down so that it could come back up. I did this with four drinks the first time, in about fifteen minutes. The second treatment was eight drinks, the third was sixteen, the fourth was twenty and the final treatment was twenty-five. By the time the last call came around I had built up such a resistance I was dry heaving because I couldn't get the glass to my lips. It didn't stop in that room though.
After leaving the treatment room itself, I was escorted back to my room. The next part was the worst, in my opinion. I was still pretty nauseous and had cold sweats. The nurse took a rag and doused it with all kinds of putrid alcohol, set it next to my bed with my puke bucket and all of the empty bottles I drank in the treatment room were scattered around me. It was the first time in thirty-something years I had to wear a diaper. After about fifteen minutes alone in my room the nurse comes in with a shot glass. It was half full of emetine and half full of warm beer and hard liquor. I had to drink the shot and hope it would come up. If it didn't, I had to gag myself to get the emetine out of my stomach. I then had to stay in my room to "reflect" on my situation for three hours.
Being alone in my room that day terrified me. I can't describe the panic that was going on inside of me. There was no one to blame for all the wrong I'd done. All the guilt that had accumulated over the years came creeping up on me. I'd neglected my kids, lied to my husband, lied to myself, my family, my friends. I'd publicly humiliated myself, put my family in debt, lost the trust of my children. I became something I was not. What could I do to defend myself? After my Grandpa died, I inherited his bible. Why me, I thought at the time. The only book I'd ever looked at was the book of Revelation, only because Grandpa talked to me about it once. One time, that was it. Nevertheless, there was a holiness about the bible and I brought it with me to be closer to my Grandpa during my treatment.
Those three hours changed my life. As I sat there on my hospital bed, defensless, I could feel a tugging at my heart. I looked over to where the bible was sitting under my nightstand. It was almost beckoning me. I picked it up, clutched it to me heart, and prayed a simple prayer. I said "God, save me." Immediately something changed. I can't explain to you what happened but something changed in me that very minute. I began to write everything that I was sorry for. Then I wrote everything I wanted to change. I finished by counting my blessings. I felt peace and joy and hope in that hour.
I made it through the rest of my treatment with utter peace and joy in my heart. I felt God's presence near me as a coach during every session. I renounced some of the lies I'd bought during that time and even quit smoking cold turkey, four months later. I made a lot of freinds that I continued to be in contact with over the first year, unfortunatley all but one relapsed.
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