Detox: Day 6, 29/04/13

Were I a betting man, I'd put some serious money on the wager that the coffee in here is actually flakes of dried horse shit.

In addition, I did come in here hoping for a diet rich in vegetables, to purge some of the toxins that lurk in my body. Instead, I've had roast beef, roast potatoes, pizza, baked potatoes, lasagna, potato salad, whipped cream, sponge cake and jam.

Floppy informed me that Tool were fucking awesome. Even though it would have been the 5th time I'd seen them, I still wish I wasn't in this fucking place at this point of time.

Two gents are leaving us this morning, leaving me with the dregs, although we apparently have three admissions this morning. Whether any of them turn out to be capable of decent conversation remains to be seen.

***

Prior to lunch, we had a session of, and I'm not fucking kidding, 'Laughing Yoga'. It consisted of various stretches and bends, and in between, breathing in deeply and letting it out in the heartiest laugh you could muster. Except they were mostly fake laughs, because there wasn't anything to laugh at.

I'm open to all forms of rehabilitation, but I couldn't help but find this particular method fucking  redundant.

Still, it's taught me that I need to stretch a lot more.

One of the new admissions, a woman, wears an ill-fitting Collingwood cap on her head, slightly lopsided. That aspect alone is cause for concern.

I bet her name is Sharon.

***

I call my wife to chat about rehab options, and not 5 minutes goes by before we're arguing about money. I'd rather talk about clay, or spouting. She said she'd had a shitty day, so fair is fair.

I have a warped kind of envy for most of the guys in here. They can just tune out and vegetate in front of the TV, nicotine inhalers dangling out of their mouths.

I'm climbing the walls after 6 days, what the fuck is 3 months going to be like?

Perhaps I should try to lower my standards and join the throng of morons. Either way, every day feels almost Sisyphean.

***

One of the new admissions is Mick. Mick looks like every other Mick I've ever met, spliced with every other alcoholic I've ever met. I don't want to be Mick.

***

The nurses always seem shocked when I say that I don't have any withdrawal symptoms. My hands don't shake, I don't get headaches, sore stomach or anything else related to coming off booze.

Am I a freak? Glad to be one, I guess.

Anne, the lovely grandmother, has had her husband visit 3 days in a row. Can't help but feel a little jealous!

***

Focus group tonight, and the question for everybody was 'name something positive to do with your rehabilitation that you experienced today'. I turned a negative into a positive by saying that I had an argument with my wife about which rehab I should be going to.

When they asked how that was a positive, I replied that at least she stills gives a shit about where I go to get better, and that can only be a good thing.