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“You smoke?”
“No, why?”
“Good.” She never answered my question and kept walking.
The next couple of hours consisted of answering questions irrelevant to my being there, followed by a tour of the facility and then a meeting with the therapist assigned to me during the detox process.
“Follow me. I’ll show you to your room. Your parents secured you a single room with a view. You’ll be by yourself for the next twenty-four hours and up to a week, depending on how bad the withdrawal is. Afterward, you might be included in the group activities. When I say by yourself, I simply mean you will not have a roommate. We have twenty-four-hour monitoring here.” She stopped at a door on the left. “This will be your room.”
I opened the door wide enough to slip in but not enough for the fatty behind me. I wanted a moment by myself before she invaded my new space. The main wall was an eggshell blue color, and all the others were a light tan. A queen-sized bed sat against the wall, along with a dresser and night table. A small desk area was in the corner of the room, and a small television hung from the wall in front of the bed.
Well, at least it’s not white walls and padding.
I continued my perusal as the lady opened the door and made her way in. I notice the hardwood floors and a huge window on the outer wall.
“No balcony?” I asked, acknowledging her entrance. I didn't care, but I wanted to complain about something.
“Balconies are reserved for residents who have finished detox and are in the next step of inpatient care.”
“What… afraid I’ll jump to my death?”
“Wren.” She sighed. “Why don’t we try some positivity?”
“It’s a legitimate question.”
With a long exhale, she moved on. “Detox is difficult on the body. Withdrawal is probably one of the toughest things you could face.”
“I feel fine.”
“For now,” she said ominously as though I would all of a sudden start convulsing on the floor or something crazy. “Would you like some help getting unpacked and settled? I’d be more than happy to assist.” She smiled again, and I groaned.
“Look, lady. I don’t even know why I’m here, and last I checked, I’m a grown-ass adult. I think I can manage.” The smile on her face dropped.
“Okay, your nurse will be around in half an hour to take you for your physical exam. That’ll give us a better understanding of where your health is before we put together your final detox plan.”
“Sure.” It was the only response I had to offer.
* * *
The food in this place was better than I thought it’d be. Thank God, because I was starving.
After I ate, I met my nurse, who had less personality than a wet towel. Though I wasn’t overwhelmingly welcoming, either.
She discussed treatment plans and whether I was handling my withdrawal with or without medication. The doctor and the therapist assigned to my case would review my file the next day and base their decision on my status.
I’d been staring at the same place on the wall for a while. I wasn’t allowed to bring paperbacks with me unless they were recovery, self-help, or spiritually oriented, whatever the hell that meant. Also, for as fancy as this place was, the TV didn't have more than three boring channels.
My body was exhausted, and my arms itched. All I wanted to do was scratch the fuck out of my skin until it ripped off, simply to get some relief. I wouldn’t mind the blood and gore, either.
I was familiar with the feeling.
I needed to get my hands on more of my little white powder, but I had zero percent chance of getting any here. I wanted to leave my room and walk around but was worried the nurse would be back around to check my vitals.
Again.
This was a twenty-four-hour treatment facility.
Halfway through the night, I woke up sweating and ran to the bathroom in time to lose all the contents of my stomach. All I could taste was bile as I tried to swallow. Wiping my mouth afterward, I waited for the overwhelming urge to vomit to pass, but it didn’t.
