How We Met Part 2

Detox was so different. It had one small room full of cots for women and a huge room full of cots for men. No doors. There was one bathroom for women and one for men. There was a small kitchen with cereal and juice, and that was the only food. There was a large room with tables and chairs where you sat to wait until you were released. Once every few hours, the staff would make everyone line up to have their vitals taken and their level of intoxication checked. This is how they would decide who got to leave.

They transported me by ambulance to detox, alone, even though Tony and I had checked into the hospital together. They wouldn't let us stay together. But as I sat in detox, checking in, scared and alone, he walked through the door. I jumped up and wrapped my arms around him. Immediately, I was told it was against the rules to do that. We would have to keep from touching each other while we were there. It was ok, I reasoned. It would only be a day or two.

Little did I know it would take over a week to fully detox.

People came and went, most of them there for only a few hours. Many were in on DUI or public intoxication. Most were pissed they were there. Tony was incredibly upset. He hated being caged, as I mentioned in his feelings about rehab, and it was worse here. He ranted and raved, but they wouldn't let him go.

A few days into our stay, Tony began acting strangely. He said he could see water coming out of the drink machine. There was none. Then he said he could see water spraying out of all the fire sprinklers in the ceilings, and he skipped off to play in the water. I was terrified. But then it got worse.

There was a small room with a cement floor, enclosed by metal, where smokers could go to indulge. We were out there, and a helicopter could be heard flying over. Tony suddenly grabbed me by my neck and pulled me down close to the ground into a corner. "They're coming for me!" he said. He held me tightly, almost choking me. "Keep quiet! They're surrounding us!" He began to whisper to himself, "What are we gonna do? How are we gonna get out of this?"

Then, he saw an older woman being brought into detox by some policemen. "Mama?" he said. "Look how they're treating my mom!" he began to get angry, and he let go of me. I sighed with relief and ran to get help.

I told the staff what had happened, and they came back with me to get Tony. To my dismay, all the staff member did was pick him up by his collar, set him down at a table, and tell him to calm down.

I knew Tony was going through DT's - withdrawals. I knew he was going to have a seizure. I knew it wouldn't be long. But they did nothing. It was as though they had no training to recognize the signs. I was perplexed and disappointed. And powerless. Completely powerless.

About half an hour later, we were in line getting our vitals checked. I had mine checked, and was not cleared to leave. They were checking Tony's when he collapsed in a seizure, just as I had suspected. One of the staff members caught him before he hit the hard floor, thank God.  I was horrified, and just screamed and cried.

They called an ambulance, which arrived six minutes later. I know this because that's how long the seizure lasted. It was one of the longest times of my life. I was hysterical. The ambulance took Tony, and it was me who called his mom and told her what had happened. I knew she blamed me in part.

Tony was in the ICU then, and I was alone in detox. That is, until I had a seizure myself. But mine wasn't nearly as serious as Tony's. I was taken to the hospital via ambulance for a day, then transported back to detox, where I was still alone. I passed the time talking to people as they came in and out, cleaning, and trying to sleep. It was nearly impossible to sleep when going through withdrawals, so there was almost none of that. I just tossed and turned. Then went back to talking and cleaning. Alone.

Tony remained in the hospital. It was a few more days before I was cleared to leave detox.

When I left, I called Tony's mom for a ride to the hospital. I stayed there with Tony until he was discharged. And first thing when he got home, he wanted a drink.

Fast forward to his next seizure, which happened one evening a only few days later. It didn't happen from withdrawals - he had been drinking. It happened because he was starting to die.

I was home alone with him, so I started getting us both dressed and ready to go to the hospital. I took us to the closest one, which was a hospital we hadn't been to before. In the parking lot, we were walking toward the ER when Tony stopped suddenly and started walking in circles. I knew this was the beginning of another seizure. I rushed to get him in the door. "C'mon baby. Let's go, this way. Hurry." He walked, and started making a really strange noise. When we got in the door, I walked to the desk and said, "he's having a seizure right now. Can I get some help?"

"You'll have to go to the other desk and push the doorbell." The woman didn't even look up.

I went and pushed it. There was a sign that said not to push it twice. I looked at Tony, who was about to collapse, and pushed it again. Then he fell into my arms. I struggled to hold him up, and screamed, "I need some fucking help RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!"

All the patients began to rush over to help me, while there was no staff to be found. Finally, as his seizure ended, they came with a gurney to take him into the ER.

Tony was in the ICU for nine days. He nearly died. He was unconscious for the first six of those nine days. He hallucinated for some of them. He had to be on medicine strong enough to put down a horse in order to keep him from having another seizure.

... to be continued....