Two Beers Two Horses

Keller Burnett

Description

True story of a high-functioning drunk who decided to take his life back from alcohol, and a few things he learned along the way. Wild at Heart meets One Flew over the Cuckoos nest in this short novel.

If you or anyone you love struggles with managing addiction, then this book may help you. Keller tried various ways to control his drinking, and ultimately began a journey that would help him stop, learn, and begin a solid recovery. It is a jungle when you search rehab online, and sometimes your doctor cannot help. Keller lived this experience and wants to share for anyone who feels stuck and does not know where to go. In a casual prose style, he will help you see the world of detox and rehab before you make a decision. You have the rest of your life to decide. Literally.

Sujets

• Religion
• Christianisme
• Spiritual Growth
• Christian Living
• Philosophie et théologie
• Rehabilitation

Informations

• Publié par: WestBow Press
• Date de parution: 26 juin 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9798385000777
• Langue: English

Extrait

TWO BEERS TWO HORSES

REHAB IS FOR QUITTERS
 
 
 
Keller Burnett
 


 
Copyright © 2023 Keller Burnett.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
 
 
WestBow Press
A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.westbowpress.com
844-714-3454
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 979-8-3850-0076-0 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-3850-0077-7 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023910950
 
 
 
WestBow Press rev. date: 6/23/2023
CONTENTS
Chapter 1Judgment Day
Chapter 2Thursday
Chapter 3Night 1
Chapter 4Ain’t no Big Shots or Little Shots
Chapter 5Dry Drunk
Chapter 6Two Beers
Chapter 7Two Horses
Chapter 8Otis and the Cab
 
Random Things That I Find Helpful
About the Author
1
JUDGMENT DAY

He cannot picture life without alcohol. Some day he will be unable to imagine life either with alcohol or without it. Then he will know loneliness such as few do. He will be at the jumping-off place. He will wish for the end.
—Alcoholics Anonymous, Big Book, 4 th edition
“You won’t remember today,” the nurse said to me as I protested the questions she was asking. She seemed at the same time both amused and compassionate; all the people working there were so kind and patient, but it was the same set of questions that they had been asking me all afternoon, seemingly every fifteen minutes, and during every interaction with the staff. We had been at it for several hours, and I just wanted a minute of respite, maybe a chance to walk outside or sit in a big chair and think. I felt a bond with the huge fireplace and hearth, surrounded by big chairs, when we came in. The drugs were working, even though I understood neither what they had given me nor why. The breathalyzer seemed to read .17, and I remember thinking that I had only had a couple of good beers at the house that morning. Hadn’t even gotten drunk. The vodka bottle was empty by design the day before.
On a scale of one to ten, rate the following: Are you craving alcohol? Do you want to harm yourself? Do you feel alone and desperate? Are you having trouble concentrating or difficulty sleeping? On and on and on it went. There was a method to their madness; they were measuring things that needed to be measured, only I had no idea how I answered the questions last time, so the repetition gave them a consensus of what was going on. I’d always had a very good memory, but there were too many questions asked too many times.
My best friend was probably back home by now, I remember thinking. Our first foray into rehab caused quite a stir, because there had been a strict admissions process, and we had failed to follow it. The staff was informed that I would be arriving around lunch, but somehow, someone missed it. They buzzed us in at the front gate, and we drove down the sandy, curving, pine-thicket-lined driveway until it wound around and ended in a circle drive, right in front of the main building. Evidently it was free time for lunch, and the front room with the fireplace was busy with people in various parts of the great room. The staff referred to them all as patrons, but they preferred to call themselves inmates. The first guy came up and gave me a hearty handshake, introduced himself, welcomed me, and quickly asked my substance of choice. I told him alcohol, specifically vodka, more specifically Tito’s. He broke into a big smile and said, “You’ve come to the right place.” Then the next guy I met was lying on the couch, and he was clearly the jester, as he jumped up and told me, “Welcome to the dungeon,” laughing hysterically as he walked away. We had somehow managed to walk into a rehab facility, both unannounced and without escort, and wandered right into the hot mess that was forty people in various stages of rehab, detox, and another shot at recovery.
Once the nurses discovered that we were inside, they dispatched an orderly to remove us from our impromptu orientation with the group; she began talking to us and apologizing, because we had sneaked in under their radar. We had identified ourselves to trigger the staff to open the gate, and they should have met us at the car. We were supposed to say goodbye and drop me off like it was the second day of school. This was far better for us, because it would be poor form for them toss my friend out and whisk me away, so they offered up a nurse to answer any of our questions. They wanted you to stay because you needed it, and also because they were extremely good at what they did. I asked if we could walk “out there,” pointing to a huge, beautiful stone overlook that offered a priceless view for miles, including land on both sides of the river. The nurse seemed to like that idea, because it would get us out of the milieu in the family room as they were being herded either to counseling sessions, medical appointments, or the next classroom.