Short Story: Early Discharge

“Get behind me/thee Satan,” I repeat. I step into the elevator and hit the button 1. I’m descending.

As the elevator hit each floor from 12 to 1, I repeat the mantra, “Get behind me Satan.”

Temptation is nothing new to me. I’ve been an alcoholic all my life and a food addict. But this time, I tell myself it will be different. Here I am, being released from the hospital. I’ve been detoxed, received outpatient, and spent 2 weeks in the psych ward. Still, voices in my head tell me to stop at the corner store before going home. I need groceries is the excuse. But the party store doesn’t exactly specialize in fresh produce. No, I’ll go straight home. Then, I can go back out if needed. Joe may have already got groceries anyway. The voice says, “No, he’s too stupid to think of that. He’s probably been feeding the kids fast food the whole time.”

I tell the voice to shut up and repeat my mantra. I’m in the parking garage, but can’t find my car. Probably because I didn’t drive here. I start digging through my purse for my cell phone. Then I remember I don’t have one anymore. I sold it for booze money. I head back to the parking garage elevator. The next thing I know, I’m lying on the ground and a large black man is running away from me with my purse in hand. I start to open my mouth to scream, but fear stops me. I remember there is no money in the purse. I used the last few dollars to buy myself a magazine in the hospital. I have no credit cards. I’ll have to get my license renewed. Oh yeh, it was revoked a few months ago when I was arrested again for drunk driving.

Have I anything left? As I stand up and go to the elevator, I spot an emergency phone. I pick it up and it connects to 911. I tell the dispatcher what happened and he tells me to go back into the hospital and wait at Admissions. I hit the button for the elevator and get in this time. As I start ascending, I remember one thing I have left. Hope. It’s just a small amount, but I can feel it in my heart, getting smaller by the minute.

I approach the Admissions desk. A tall red-headed woman with perfect makeup and a huge smile greets me. “Maggie?”

I nod.

“They called and told us what happened. Come with me.”

The nurse introduces herself as Carla and leads me to a small room. She hands me a bottle of water and motions for me to sit down.

I tell her what happened. She looks very concerned. She tells me I shouldn’t have been released without a ride home. The door opens and Joe comes in. He looks at me and says, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I reply with an undertone of anger.

“I thought you were being released at 4,” he says.
“
They let me go early,” I snap.

“Well, why didn’t you call?” he asks calmly despite my demeanor.

I have no response, but feel angry just the same. He should’ve been here.

The nurse looks at me with a knowing look.

I hang my head.

“I know we’ve recommended AA,” Carla says, “but I would also suggest you go to Al-Anon.”
I look at her questioningly. What the hell is Al-Anon I’m thinking.

“It’s a meeting to help you cope with your emotions. It’s for adult children or family/friends of alcoholics.”

“My mom was alcoholic,” I confess.

“Exactly. And you have the thinking patterns of growing up with the disease. You want to do everything yourself. You’re blaming your husband for not reading your mind. You are having thoughts of going back to drinking because the emotions are too much to bear. You need AA to stay sober, but you need Al-Anon to learn how to live again.”

Suddenly I feel like George Bailey in It’s A Wonderful Life as I say, “I want to live again.”

The police enter and I give them my report.

After they leave, Carla leaves Joe and me alone. I thank him for coming so quickly. I ask him about the kids, and I apologize for my temper.

He surprises me by telling me he’s already been going to Al-Anon and knows a great meeting where there’s more than one table, so we could both go. We hug and I give him a quick kiss.

He squeezes me tighter and says, “It will be all right.”

The hope is growing in my heart and suddenly I can’t wait until the kids get home from school and I can hear about their escapades. Then we’ll order a pizza for dinner. I’ll make a grocery list for tomorrow. But tonight, I’m going to an AA meeting. Tomorrow, I’m going to Al-Anon and AA.

“Let’s go,” I say.

“Wait a minute,” Joe says as he takes my hand. He starts reciting the Lord’s Prayer and I join in. “There, now we’re ready,” he says. And we are.

Those Tears Must be Shed

When sorrow and grief pull you in,
Those tears must be shed;
When memories flood and storms threaten,
Tears must be shed;
When loss fills your heart with pain,
Those tears must be shed;
Loved ones you’ll never see again,
Those tears must be shed;
When the sky turns dark and clouds loom,
Those tears must be shed;
Thunderheads break open, spelling doom,
Those tears must be shed;
When the hole in your heart is larger than ever,
Those tears must be shed;
Seems you’ll miss them forever,
Those tears must be shed;
Your mind says if only and fills with regret,
Those tears must be shed;
You feel its as bad as it can get,
Those tears must be shed;
Dry those tears now and feel the relief
Of those tears you have shed;
You’ve expressed the sorrow and the grief
By those tears you have shed;
Embrace the joy of life;
Those tears you have shed;
Enough now of sadness and strife,
Those tears you have shed;
Enjoy life just in this minute,
Those tears you have shed;
Tomorrow may bring sadness in it,
Those tears you have shed
Are dry for now but will be back;
Those tears you have shed;
Be comforted by them, not be their lack;
Those tears you will shed
Will become a healing balm,
Those tears you will shed;
Bringing your soul peace and calm,
Those tears you will shed.