Cunning and Baffling

Even though he was not yet 50, the applicant sitting across from me at my desk had the face of a man several years older. His skin was the texture of leather, like an old saddle that had sat on the corral fence in the hot sun for a long time.

Fear was in his eyes. His hands slightly trembled. He had hepatitis C that had progressed into cirrhosis of the liver. One side of his abdomen was swollen, pushing his shirt out.  All his possessions were in a shopping bag on the floor beside him.

When I did his intake he had no emergency contact. His family wanted nothing to do with him because of his drinking – and he had no friends who wanted to hear from him.

But he said the magic words that would help him get into TLC: "I want to change my life," he said. "I'm tired of living this way and I'm afraid that if I drink again the cirrhosis will kill me."

And then described a friend of his who had drunk himself to death, turning green before he died. "I don't want to go that way," he said with conviction.

Because our mission is to help recovering substance abusers rebuild their lives we accepted him into our transitional living program. When the house manager came to pick him up he thanked me and shook my hand.

Then this morning I got a call that he’d disappeared without saying anything, taking his few belongings with him.

Once more I witnessed the power of our disease.