While I was still in Florida a few months back, I was seeking to get some help in adressing my addictions. The only place in the Southern Hemisphere of that state which resembles a circumcised penis was this center called; DAF (Drug/Alcohol Facility) <--- Snappy Name! The waiting list was longer than a Yes song; and it could be weeks before I could get in. I spoke with someone at the facility who suggested that I call the Detox unit, and if they have a bed available, that may just slip me into the system a little quicker. Since I needed to be in this facility yesterday, I was short on time.
Every day I would call the Detox Unit in the morning and ask if they had a bed available and then they would tell me to call back at 4 pm to check again. I did this for about three days, when one afternoon a bed was available. Now the only thing I had to do was to get drunk. I had to literally break my clean date to get drunk so I can then get into a program.
The only thing Joyce had at her house was a bottle of Marsala Wine and big ass bottle of Kahlua that she recieved as a present. I guzzled the Kahlua, grimacing at the taste; usually enjoying it when it was in a White Russian, but not now, not by itself. We drove down to the DAF and started with the check in procedures. After filling in all of the necessary paperwork, a nurse came over to take my vitals. It seems that my heart rate and my blood pressure were throught he roof. Unbeknowest to me, Kahlua is about 93% sugar, and I had just glugged down a whole bottle in 10 minutes. Needless to say, the Facility did not accept me, they wanted me to go to the hospital and check myself in for the possibility that I may have a heart attack!