I’m certainly not an expert in the complicated field of addiction. But I want to share two stories I’ve encountered in the last six months, both of which demonstrate the “shackles” people put around their ankles with drugs or alcohol. They also illustrate how individuals themselves are the greatest limiter to one’s own success.
Without any personal experience, I hope I don’t come off as judgmental. I’m just writing about my impression after hundreds of similar encounters over the years.
Patient/Story 1 “Mountain Man”
A middle-aged guy was brought in by his 16-year-old because he wasn’t eating or for that matter doing anything except drinking beer after beer, day after day for months. He was not bathing or shaving. He was missing work such that his high-paying and highly respectable job was in jeopardy.
He had been experiencing a litany of symptoms including weakness, headaches, abdominal pain, nausea, muscle ache and sleeplessness. He was in a bad way. His heart rate was 120 and he was very withdrawn. His speech was slurred but easily understandable.
We gave him some potassium and magnesium supplements while infusing two hours of IV fluids including vitamins (a “banana bag”), some nausea medicine and a healthy meal. After all this, he had perked up. Almost all his physical symptoms were gone. His bloodwork showed nothing critically abnormal.
He had sobered up quite a bit. I sat down on the stool next to him and had a man-to-man not doctor to man talk. I asked him, “Why are you drinking so much?” After staring off in space, he suddenly looked over to me as if he had been punched in the stomach.
I gave him some time to think and to digest the question.
Then my next question hit him like a ton of bricks:
“What are you depressed about?”
Five seconds later this mountain of a man was reduced to uncontrollable tears.
He responded, “Doc, my life is in shambles. My wife left me and divorced me last year. My kids don’t respect me. I’m about to lose my job. I don’t even respect myself anymore.”
In the ER, we rarely have enough time to counsel patients on such complex life situations. But I felt a special connection with this guy.
My tactic with him? Tough love. I didn’t hold his hand and give him a hug.
He seemed to be the type of guy that needed to hear the cold hard truth. No matter how painful yet simplistic, I told him “You need to stop F&%King drinking!” (Despite being a doctor, I very rarely use swear words when I think patients will find me more relatable.)
During our conversation where he was opening his soul to me, I made comments such as “You had your last beer today. Flip the switch. Make drastic changes. Quit feeling sorry for yourself. Your back is against the wall. You have no choice. It won’t be easy, but it absolutely must be done. Otherwise, you will lose everything—including possibly your life.”
Unbelievably, it seemed like this was the first time anybody had actually spoken those words though he had to have known inside that’s what needed to be done.
We talked for a few more minutes. I could tell he really appreciated my honesty, my directness and most importantly my genuine concern for his welfare. I sensed that my words had a high likelihood of effecting positive change for this very likable guy.
Soon it would be time for his discharge from the ER. I told him I had to go see another patient but that I was rooting for him, and I was confident things would go well.
As I pulled the door open, he stopped me and said with a cracking voice,” Doc. I can’t thank you enough.”
Story 2 “I just can’t get my head out of the Bong!”
After a hard workout at the gym, I was in the dry sauna. I struck up a conversation with the other guy in there. We were making pleasant small talk when the topic of our professions came up. He worked as a civilian in a job working in support of the military. (I can’t share the details.) He told me for 20 years he has always wanted to become a pilot. I asked him why he doesn’t just “go for it”.
His reply shocked me: “I just can’t get my head out of the bong.” I said “What?” He repeated himself and clarified that he smokes weed every day as much as he can. He loves the way it makes him feel. But he freely admitted that it kills his drive. He knew he should stop but just couldn’t.
I switched on my “Motivation Mode” and gave him my one-minute Extreme Greatness lecture. Briefly, I challenged him to ask why he was shortchanging himself and why he wasn’t chasing his lifelong dream. I told him he’ll forever regret not doing it and that regrets are tremendously painful and last forever.
“We all have Greatness within us. But very few chase it. Make the change. Start this very instant. You can do it. I know you can. Make the decision now. Take that first step. You will be so glad you did.”
I sensed that my words had a profound impact on him. His body language changed 180°.
I wanted to keep pumping him up, but I had to head off to the ER. As I got up, he stopped me and said “Hey man. Thanks!”
These interactions where I have a profound impact on people’s lives are immensely satisfying and gratifying. They are coming more frequently. Maybe I’m just getting a little softer as I age. Or more patient. Or more caring. It’s likely partially a result of working in smaller hospitals where I can spend more time with patients at the bedside. Regardless of the setting, I will keep trying to help people as much as I can.
Comments