Day 2.

The second day is like the month of March.  It comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, relatively speaking.  I had taken three doses of Librium in the last 10 hours, so I was hanging on.  I needed privacy, though.  Down time.  In detox, you have the pros and the newbies.  The newbies, not having been that banged up to begin with, start feeling pretty good in a day or two.  They will come up to the new guy and say, 'Hey man, how are you doing?  My name's Mike.  Just hang in there it'll get better.  If I can do this, anybody can do this.  If you need anything let me know.'  And so on.  I want to strangle these people. The pros just sit by themselves, occasionally look at each other, a wry smile and a slow head shake.  We know the deal. 

I was up, couldn't sleep, so I went to the TV room.  Don was there.  We made eye contact, he gave me a little smile, then went back to his book.  He knew that I was too fresh to engage; that I would initiate conversation when I was ready.  There were four or five other patients in the room but I didn't recognize anyone else.  I found a chair in the corner, grabbed a crossword puzzle book (compliments of the DAV, the sticker said), opened it to the easy section and settled in.  Now the wait began.  For the next two days, it would be a routine of meds, ice cream, sleeplessness, and pain.  At least it was predictable.  I briefly thought about my life with all its failure and wasted opportunity.  They say that you have to get over regret in order to become sober.  I suppose that is true, but in detox, regret is right in your face.  I smiled wryly to myself, shook my head, and tried to think about something positive.  At that moment, the well was dry.