Burnaby - ODAAT

I am in my Thor Hurricane Class A Motorhome.  I’m 73 years old.  Still working. Today is Monday and I have a virtual clinic booked all day. It tires me but I love to be of service. I enjoy the routine.  This year and next are planned around my continued work., I’m looking forward to going south this year to LA and Algadones,  I heard that Dr. Jordan Peterson, whose book, “We who wrestle with God” I’m listening to on Audible now, has moved to Arizona.  My favourite place right now is Fountain of Youth nd Bombay Beach Southern California.  For now I’m loving Burnaby. The weather is wonderful.  

I’ve had an incredible journey these last few months, returning from Southern California in my Ford Truck and Adventureer Camper with the Vespa.  I left that at the Chilliwack RV Storage and came back to my Fuzion RV in my Mini.  I took Laura to Harrison Hotsprings, We had a lovely weekend enjoying walks round the pond and hotsprings in the spa.  

I’d not been able to unload my Camper because of damage and weakness at the passenger side Lazy Jack.  That meant I didn’t have the truck to move the RV if I needed to. I confess I felt stranded and an acutely need for a self propelled home.  I’d liked the camper and truck but they were small.  The Fuzion was large enough though I’d had the problem with mice and I didn’t like the garage office.  I’d contemplated motorhomes for years.  Dad and Mom had their Queen they loved and visited Good Sam campgrounds with. 

The political situation has been scarey.  I’ve not felt safe or secure in Vancouver.  I’d rather be in a small town outside a major city.  The peninsula of Vancouver is always a traffic jam. When I was on the sailboat I was safe and could get away but here I was with a sense of being trapped.  The election was won by the Liberals again with massive third world immigration, WEF and UN corruption and major Chinese influence.  The Republicans in the south were a safer bet as the world with doddering Biden and constant lies of media was careening towards worsening World War.  Ukraine and Russia fought on.  Israel and Gaza and Iran fought..  Taiwan stood against Communist China and Trudeau idiocy had made everything in Canada scarey.  At least Carney was an adult though personally ideologically a concern.

The fact of the matter is I had justification for upgrading to the Motorhome after seeing Ernest and Nicholina’s.  I would save 3 months of storage when I drove south.  I imagined reducing to just he Motorhome eventually. I loved the Thor.  I love the Thor. 

It was a status thing too, In the world of snowbirds the motorhome is class A.  I envied my friends Tiffany and the neighbors Dutch star but truthfully I felt home. I felt I was where I needed to be but didn’t like the debt incurrred but my savings would cover the cost and maintain funds. I didn’t like that Liberal mismanagement o the enconomy and corruption created inflation which reduced my savings punishing the good of Canada, by a third. It’d hard being ruled by sociopaths but countries communist China and Korea are worse.

I’m learning to ‘look on the bright side’ and recommended the Monty Python song and tube version of the choir singing on the crucifixion

I’m away of my character defect and tendency to  catastrophize and to go to self pity.  I know ‘poor me’ is a mental virus’s.  I’m okay today. 

I enjoyed the monumental task of buying the Thor and transferring the contents of the Fuzion RV to my new hom at Traveland. Kenny Rogers was a good salesman and like salesman do took advantage but in then end I had the deal. I’d phoned George and George for help with decision making and had the incredible kind, wise and wonderful support of Laura.  Then moving Alina and Alena from Merry Maids helped with Laura and Anna.  Anna was glad to get the Potlach as were Mach and Dave and Ernst.  I had too much ‘stuff’ and was glad to minimize.  I imagine my friend Barb would have sold everything on the Facebook Marketplace and made a few thousand but I enjoyed the happiness of sharing my good time and seeing the joy of windfall in eyes of friends.  It was amazing that it was done and even more amazing when Laura and I drove the Thor to Burnaby.

I was then off with the camper and truck driving across Canada to see the family in Ottawa, visit nephews and great nephews I’d last seen before Covid.  Adell was incredible. I miss my brother and wish he were aicve.  I returned with the hard bottom inflatable and 30 hp.  All the while I continued virtual medicine.  It was a great journey.  

I’d learned that I had cataracts and macular degeneration and my eyes need to be monitored with the possibility of surgery in the near future.  Driving and seeing the country was part of that,  Coming home again was great.

Laura and I then took the Thor to Sunshine Valley, our first excursions and all went well, 

We attended the International Confrwence of AA at the Vancouver Conveention centre and BC Stadium with some 50,000 people.  What an experience!

Then I drove my HD Nightster Special Motorcycle to Spokane for the IDAA. I spent time with the Cyberdocs friends and Madeline,  I’d seen Dave and Dave at the Int4rnational and then again in Spokane, Tommy was a pleasure to be with, She’s in her mid 80’s now.  It was all uplifting.

The motorcycle ride back in a day was a hoot.  I’m so thankful for God’s grace., 

Now I’m settling into a routine. Laura was here with Madigan but she’s gone home. I’v had the week with him He’s adjusting to all the changes.  We’re getting back to routine,

Meagan and Alan had Maizy, an 8 pd baby girl.

That’s exciting,

We’re booked for hunting in October, the Thanbgiving Weekend. I’m still trying to arrange for a weekend camping with the Thor but all the spots were booked for the Sept 1 long weekend.  Sept 10 is the opening of rifle hunting.  I’ ve called Kevin to see if the Camper is repaired.  Dave came by on the weekend while spent time on Saturday and Sunday retrieving data with Ayden at Apple, I’d made a terrible mistake and almost deleted all my files when I was just trying to clean up ny photo files. 

My PAL card arrived in the male but I’m still waiting for the Nexus card though the computer says all is fine,

I’m working on ODATT

I took my 28 year cake at Burnaby Fellowship. Now I’m looking forward to giving George his cake.  It’s a challenge 

I’ve work cases involving the courts at Docside but otherwise it’s no challenge

I continue to attend St. Barnabus Anglican Church but haven’t been this month,  Emily has been away on sabbatical.  

With the scare of losing files I’ve decided to move forward on writing my books.  So I’ll start editting and printing. It seems such work.  Blogging is so much esaier.  Keeping journals.  

I don’t so much wrestle with God as play peek a boo with Jesus,  

Thank you God. Thank you Jesus. I aim to maintain an ‘attitude of gratitude’ one day at a time,  

Long Beach, California, Day 11

Thank you God for this day. Thank you God for restorative sleep. Thank you God for Madigan. Thank you God for the sunshine and warmth. Thank you God for this mobile Adcnturer Camper, F350 Truck and Vespa GT.  Thank you God for the Golden Shores RV Park.  Thank you God for the marine walk.  Thank you God for Laura braving Vancouver rainy winter. Thank you God for my family in the east. Thank you God for Peter and Larry who are here in this park and told me about it years ago.  Thank you God for the Marine walk and Light house Walk. Thank you God for Long Beach and the stores like Vons , Star buck, Ace Hardware, 5 sports, Supersuds laundry.  Thank you for the tranquility here.  

Thank you for this day.

I am thankful too for work, I am glad to still be of service,  Yesterday was my first full day after travelling south. I had an early morning walk and with Peter, Luka and Bella, the Hacannese girl, we did the Lighthouse Marina walk.  Later at night I swam in the pool and had a hot tub. I read rather than watching tv last night. The Brutal War, British naval historical fiction of the Hawke ship.in day of Nelson and Napoleon.  I did watch a little 1944, a subtitled movie of the Estonias in the war when half the men were conscripted to the Red Army and the other half to thee German Army due to invasions , Neighbours fighting neighbours, I’m thankful that Canada has in my lifetime avoid war on our soil,

After the swim last night I had a shower and enjoyed the new shampoos Sharine recommended after she cut my hair.

Pretty mundane stuff.  With the stresses reduced I actually stop and breathe, smelling the ocean shore scents.  I was taken back to the bad year, the third divorce,m and the ex’s addiction and ny abstinence and  return to church and the road to recovery.  I’m thankful for all the healers and mentors I met along the way. Walking into the Atlantic Alamo Club I saw so many in early recovery while there were a glowing few in longer term success based on thier serenity.  The early recovery folk with anxious and starting back from the detour that clearly didn’t pan out. It was a Crystal Meth Aonymous Meeting. I felt the tension and palpable anxiety and anger of early recovery and thought this is the world of ‘yes’s.  We say I haven’t done that ‘yet’.  I didn’t do CM and even crack wasn’t available when I stopped drinking wine and priding myself on being a connosier. Ironically I stopped smoking marijuana because it thought its  against the law and I should not be breaking the law when I abhorred hypocrisy.  Yet I couldn’t stop smoking, tobacco.,  I’d tried marijuana instead of tobacco but only smoked both. I’d stop for several months and only start up again when I was having a drink and the compulsion to have ‘just one’ smoke would come over me  It was only when I was months clean and sober that I began to appreciate how tobacco, marijuana and alcohol had become so much apart of my life,

10 per cent of Canadian consume 80% of alocohol.  Like most who think they ware social drinkers I was more than that. I only ate at restaurants that served wine. I smoked daily. I liked to smoke cannolis at sea because it really did help with sea sickness.  The trouble is that the rule of ‘more’ progressed.  I went from drinking a glass or two of wine on a Friday night with my partner to drinking a bottle or two of wine.  All my friends, mostly yuppies and established people were like me drinking wine and having an occasional toke,  

Now I don’t have friends who drink or smoke.  

I used to be cynical and not I’m optimistic. I used to go to bed late. Now I’m up early and this morning was up to watch the beauty of dawn.

I’m really blessed.  I really wante to know God back then but I was turning further away. In recovery I’ve had a true adventure in the art of getting high.  Alcohol is a depressant.  Life is its own high. I enjoy the adventures I know to day and the company I keep.  I am really so thankful.  I’m blessed to be parts of recovery groups and church and family and work.  I’m very thankful

I’m glad Trudeau has resigned.  He was so arrogant, acted like a sociopath and seemed to be impaired with drugs or alcohol or hung over. He didn’t look or sound well but I guess that was me in my last year of work, Looking back now I can see the problem but not then.  Now I’m truly blessed to know the freedom I know today.

Thank you Jesus. Thank you God.  Thank you Higher Power,  Thank you God of Gods. Thank you light.  Thank you Yahweh.  Thank you 

27 years

I woke chilled and wanting to pee.  When I finally got out of bed to relieve myself I found the covers were  on the floor. I’d held onto the duvet.  It’s Vancouver June.  Hot in the day and cool in the wee morning.

I came back to bed and couldn’t sleep.  My mind was restless.  The Bangles song, Walk like an Egyptian was playing on my mental jukebox.  Background music.,  I have to take my car in to have the sun roof fixed.  I can’’t leave the dog in the car in the heat without the sun roof.  The Mini sales and repair is downtown in Kitsilano.  I have a virtual phone clinic and don’t know where I’ll have wifi reception and phone except at the clinic,  Should I take my dog Madigan with me,  What are the logistics.

I want to wear a long jean skirt. I’ve been thinking about wearing the jean skirt for days and weeks,  It used to be kaftans or sarongs.  Today I’m thinking I could wear the jean skirt. I am not falling back to sleep,  I have been planning another tattoo.  A celtic cross. I’d like to travel to Berlin and see where the wall fell and the place of the air life miracle.  

I have turned over several times and each time Madigan walks over my head to be on the other side scrunching his little body up against my back.  I rub his head.   He growls at me.  I don’t fall asleep.  The ipad clock says it’s 530 am.  The sun is out. I might as well get up.

27 years.  It’s that anniversary. While I ‘m sitting in the living room trying to meditate or meditating I’m aware its 27 years. I run my mind back over the lists of sponsors and the fondness of memories.  Gratitude.  Gratitude. Gratitude.  Bernie.  Then Hank.  Then Scotty..  Then it blurs with George.  The Georges of my world are the Saint George of Christian fame.  My mentors mix with my sponnsors.  Art. Ray. Don. Graham.  Willie.  Phillip.  Then there are the priests and ministers and professors.  Carl. John. James Peter. Emily.

27 years ago I stopped drinking. It may have been a few weeks before but I took this day as the anniversary that I could remember. 25. Christmas and June.  June 25, 1997.  My friend said since I’d stopped drinking I should try out this meeting,  I had returned to church.  She was dangerously insane  on cocaine and wouldn’t get help.  I begged her to get help. Instead of going to treatment she had a little detour and vacation and plotted and lied.  I know she was borderline.  Hysterics are attractive.  Like male psychopaths. Narcissistic. They complement. Bonnie and Clyde.  I lost myself in her.  She in me.  I thought we were to have children.  The woman before had aborted the child.  I had been raped.  I felt ruined and shame.  I passed a sperm test like other exams.   I had thought of it in terms of violence but later knew the person as weak and afraid taking advantage, and lying. The snake.  But a sociopath. Kindly , a gentleman.  Well dressed. Intelligent.  People might describe some lawyers and politicians like that.  Smooth. 

I never thought of myself as smooth.  Rough.  I ‘d been called a jewel in the rough. Maybe the hairy Neanderthal genes inside me remember the smoother less hairy Homo sapiens coming to burn their homes, kill their children and rape their wives.  Yesterday.  40,000 years ago.  Yesterday.  

27 years ago life was so crazy with her that I decided I couldn’t afford to drink or smoke dope.  I’d smoke pot occasionaly when it was available , on vacations.  I needed to quit smoking cigarettes. I’d reached a pack a day over 10 years and promised myself I’d quit when I did but I kept relapsing that year whenever I drank wine out.   I was in a foxhole and needed all my wits about me.  I had never wanted my life to be this way.  I was a god seeker and a doctor. I wished to be a healer. I prayed , make me a channel of your peace.  We met in sex and pot and wine.  She’d promised children and I wanted a family.  I married because I had sex and I had sex for the sake of children.  I was also a slut.  I never said no.  I was simple that way but there were no children just abortions and birth control pills and I’d wanted birth control pills before that.  When children were offered I was in my head.  Our bodies entwined in love and I was elsewhere. Now I was here.  A wounded amphibian on a beach.

My colleagues didn’t know that evil among them.  I learned of it as a patient.  I was threatened and humiliated and assaulted.  I was ashamed and prayed. I’d turned my head from God and all was my fault. I found solace in the psalms.  I’d not been able to protect her from herself or her demons or the mother or the insaniety and rudeness and I’d failed as protector.  She kept attacking police and gang members and laughing thinking she was above the law and younger may have been. She was elite.  She thought me silly for not knowing how the world works, how people are bought, how it’s who you know and old alliances of family and money.  I was an outsider.  She found me amusing until she didn’t.  « I’ll drink and smoke what I want to. ». « You can’t stop me, ». And I couldn’t but the proxy violence a woman can cause is volcanic. Zeus tremors before Hera. I’d only known Venus.  Tsunamis of rage can be meted out to failed lovers.  Victim cards and foolhardiness.

I was silly.  Naive.  She was a flower and I was no prince.  So many regrets.  She wouldn’t stop.  

I told the doctor all I want is for her to stop drugs .  I’d stopped drugs,  I liked Keith Richard’s, I’ve been stoned so long being straight is a new high.  

I can get you back to drinking next month. Everything can be as before but you can’t speak of these things.  You just have to do as I say.  You can never see a lawyer.  Drinking a bottle of wine a day is okay.  Smoking a joint is okay. Stay away from those people who say different he said.  I didn’t.  

27 years ago.  It was a muddle.  A mess. I left her because I couldn’t face another of her weeks in bed and refusal to do anything.  I was so tired of enabling, taking the phone calls, making excuses.  

It’s all a cesspool, an outhouse hole. I couldn’t stand her screaming at me night when I needed to work in the morning.  I had this work ethic. Middle class.  I served. I was there each day.  She came and went. The butterfly. I was larval.    I laughed because poor amber heard shit in the bed and she’d done that a decade before.  She’d puke on my stuff too.  I’d made the sheep skin sleeping bag sewing each hide together over many evenings and now I had to clean it.  What stories she could tell.    I suspect she didn’t like it.  She didn’t like something and she broke something but she didn’t tell me.  She didn’t communicate. I was supposed to be telepathic and because I was n’t I was punished.    Passive aggressive active agressive . I thought but then I was increasingly paranoid.  She’s trying to kill you they’d say.  Concerned friends.  

Complements.  When I point a finger four are pointing back.  I was the flip side.  War of the Roses and I didn’t even know there was a war.  Leonard Cohen.  Dylan.  The poets and philosophers of the day. I gave her my heart and she wanted my soul.  What ever I say of her is worse with me. I forgive her and maybe one fay I’ll forgive myself.  

I walked away. Ran. Left my part cannibalized body parts  in the cage,  I went from frying pan to fire. Borderline to psychopaths.  I couldn’t even take care of my dog.  The two of us in the cold  and rain on the ferry fleeing one nightmare to another.  

I stopped everything.  The thieves drugs addicts and criminals just looked at me as food .  Once they’d stripped me of what I had they lost interest. God sent a peculiar angel and gave me a trailer on a hill and the solitude I’d prayed for.  I rented it with the disability cheque I’d paid into for decades.   I went to church where I could cry and saw doctors who didn’t drink and drug who said I didn’t need to drink and drug.  I left her with the doctors who said ‘women don’t have addictions.  It’s always the men they choose that are the problem. ». They claimed they were feminists and gave all power to the men. I triangulated on booze. Okay, if you want me to quit asparagus I’ll quit asparagus.  I’ll show you.

Survival kicked in.  I was cared for by Christians.  Christian doctors. Christian friends.  Christian lawyer.  I escaped the aetheists and didn’t know who to trust but my Christian childhood had been good and I parted from that path when I went to California. Now I was back.  Jesus Christ.  St. Francis.  Father John.  

Bill and Bob.  Oxford Movement, 

Higher power,

I’d been a follower until he brought me pot and wine and fucked me saying we create reality. We are the priests of science,  Alistair Crowley was his mentor and I was his student. I was lost.  She wanted to stay with her mother and I was alone. Outside the garden of eden.  There were so many singles.  Mulling about. Lemmings.  Plenty of fish.

I’d washed up on stranger shores.  Then one day gave up on the world and turned back to God and God alone. I’d meditated for years with Paramahansa Yogananda. I’d studied theology at University. I’d read Billy Graham and Martin Luther. Later I’d read Bishop Spong.  My utmost for his highest would be my daily reading then. I read the Bible several times those years and studied with James and others.  John and I laughed so heartily over pizza and spoke of Freud and Jesus.  Dinner discussion missionary, talk of  work and and service and society.  Candlelight .

I was a year sober when I realized how sane my life was. Living in the morgue with her. Watching as she worshiped the mausoleums of her soul.  I was asked to replay the fiction of her parents after the deaths and she was the arbiter and publisher.  I was a pawn.  I was in so many dramas of so many people and then all I wanted was to do hunt and sail and heal.  Sober I could see how insane I was.  I had to turn off the media and stop listening to news.  Among sober people I saw the sadness in the bar.  I was sick and now I was healing. 

I realized I was insane.  Not as insane as the hospital but insane. I was restored to saniety as promised.   

I had actually thought there was a limit to God’s love. I had imagined I was outside his grace.  I was grandiose and judgemental and was among those whose fear kept them from faith. I sailed through hurricanes alone.  He stilled the water. My mind found peace.  I was fascinated by those out of control who needed to control.  I was blessed by the presen of God.

I was sober.

I stayed sober

one day at a time,

It was yesterday.  A different year. A different time, A different place.  Adam and Eve playing so many games of peek a boo.  Peek a boo with Jesus. Love and lust and hide and seek.  I thought I was lost.  God never was.

Peace.  I’d lost my peace of mind ,  I’d be Joseph with the coat of many colours tossed in the ditch by his brothers. I was waiting for Godot. I was the Metamorphisis. I was doing one day at a time. One foot after another looking at the foot prints in the sand. 

I went to meetings, I didn’t isolate. She isolates,  She controls the comments. She avoids difference. Needs constant adulation.  She is a reflection.  She is the woman. The mitochondrial Eve.

I stagger at times. The back pains from the weight of world get to me.  Sisyphus. My eyes have been plucked out by eagles.  I am losing my hearing. Bits of me are falling off.  I stagger but then Irealize where I am and I smile.

I used to be a mental wankers. That’s what the Aussies call us.  

Don’t look for God in the wall, he said.  I loved Mere Christianity.

They have children and don’t want to talk about abortion and euthanasia.  They want to make pie and hide in Metorrahs. .  I know there are no more Cappidocea’s today.  This is the world of the Devil and the lies are everywhere. Even Jesus whispered before he ascended.

My father who art in heaven.   Haven,  My parents and family have gone before me. Many friends have died. They have mansions and I still worry what side of the street I ‘m on. Will there be street lamps in heaven. 

But it’s funny. Sober.  All my wits about me. A fool on the hill,

I am thankful. So much to learn. I’m alive today thanks,  Gratitude and spiritual tools,  Wisdom writing.  Emily preached on Job at St Barnabus but she left out the part where God and the Devil play dice,  Zoroastrianism and prehistory. I’m fascinated with ancestor worship and fertility goddesses.  The Venus figurines.  Mom was such a kind person,

She was kind,  Kind and kinship. Lucy in the sky with diamonds. Ethiopia and the south San tribes.  Flying into dry and wet reserves.  Being shot at ,chased by polar bears and surviving plane crashes.

I accessorize others. I serve their egos. I’m a flower in a lapel. I’ m a part object. I’m alive. I love the air and the feelings and this world as a gift of God.  I am so thankful. 

I am alive.  Thank you God.  That’s all we can hope for and be thankful for each day.  Life. I am alive.  17 years sober.  A sober me.  I drank from 17 to 1997.  45 years old. I was a binge drinker, months and months of time working, studying, and then a week in mexico blatto.  There’s 23 years of drinking.  I’ve now 17 years sober. I figure I’ll not drink today and maybe see what its like to see 23 years. I ‘d thought I’d only do a year but life got so good that I’ve never gone back . Thank you God. Thank you Jesus.  

A week after IDAA

I came home from IDAA in Tucson.  The conference centre at the HIlton el Conquistador was stupendous , great views, great rooms, great service.  The first wonder of the conference was seeing and being seen by old friend.  Before Covid I’d usually go to the conference and had been to some 20 but with Covid hadn’t gone.  Some of the folk I kept in touch with at on line Cybcerdocs which had been a god send at the beginning of covid when I truly isolated.  I was  afraid.  I was separated from others and felt truly alienated. I kept working and in touch with the internet.  But there’s limits to that.  

I was so uplifting to see and hugs friends of decades, mentors, colleagues.  What beautiful people.  I loved early morning with Hal.  Dick has carried on the attitude of gratitude series and I so enjoyed spending time with Tommie.  Not only did we sit together in meetings and chat but we had a lunch together again. It was years ago I first had lunch with her and talked motorcycles.  We’ve both ridden our Harley’s to a couple of meetings.  

I was blessed to sit with John the first night.  He’s such a mensch from Seattle and made me feel okay. Art was there with his son and later I’d sit with Carole in a meeting.  Art is truly my hero. Over the years he’s answered some of my most troubling questions regarding work and society.  His success navigating the insaniety has been inspirational.  I loved seeing Hugh and Dianne, Nathan, and Jay, and especially Dave and Mary.  So many of the cyberdocs contingent I meet with regularly were there and we even got together in a break out.  There was Adam and Corinne and Julie and Michael from Canadas was a treat.  Michael and I attend a virtual doctors meetings and yet I only came to know him here at this meeting where he shared his spiritual story and I was shocked at the profound overlap his journey had taken to mine.  We laughed heartily at the detours of course.  

I felt the differences melting away. All the character armour began dropping away as the days went by. I felt vulnerable and afraid and carried on. I attended the Gay meeting with David and Scott and John. It was great to see John remembering him as forever Mardi Gras.  I shared the facets of myself.  We are as sick as our secrets and I was able to accept all of my life rather than reject those parts.  This was me. I am a totality of my various parts. As I accepted the anima and animus of Jung and opened those sexual experiences of my life, those parts I’d relegated with shame to be less whole but ordered, I found I wasn’t projecting my own negativity on those around me. I embraced my humanity and there’s and let go of the fear.  Rick and Ann were new folk I met and enjoyed loving acceptance and really truly loving myself in honesty.  It was a radical love, the love Jesus taught, « love your neighbour as yourself,’. I had spent so long cherry picking love and loving the limited eviction and cut off parts.  I dared to change and felt myself hearing and seeing without the fear and shame,

I really enjoyed the speaks especially the CEO from Betty Ford.  « You are not a victim. If you are here you are a survivor! »I loved the food too. I remember years back fearing I’d not be welcome at the banquet and anxious about who I’d sit with. I sat with so many different people and felt so welcome.  Coming late once I lucked out to sit with Hugh and Dianne.  What truly beautiful inspiring people.  And funny. the humor in these meetings is so profound. We’re born again and childlike and foolish in our laughter.  

I so enjoyed Adam’s story. He and Corinne are such beautiful people, she’s truly cover girl and the couple are like Ryan and his wife, better looking than most of the celebrities Hollywood manages.  Not only did we have the biggest brains for the lot but also we had these shining people. All around the language of the heart hummed. What a spiritual wonder to be part of this tribe.  I can so easily slide into self pity yet here I was reminded that the road that goes higher and higher has had to have its dips.  Innocence lost.  We fall and we get up. Successs is carrying on despite failure.  Resilience.  We talked about this.

I realized my own personal image was Whack a mole.  My character defects pop up and just as I get one back down, to right size or out of sight another pops up.  There I am shoving down lust, as avarice is rearing it’s head, and gluttony is in the wings along with envy. The whole crowd is ganging up on me and most of all there’s spiritual pride.  Just when I think I’m a saint I realized I’m not god and I got searching humility again so maybe I can get back to learning.  The arrogant are stuck and unable to learn till they accept they don’t know.  There I was with my people who struggle as I do to each day be a better person than they were the day before and avoid descending into barbarism or hedonism and all the attractive distractions of modern society.  We are not saints. We are seeking spiritual progress and not perfection.

I swam one day and got the worst sun burn but not on my face as Dave had leant me sunscreen and I’d chose to save my face.  The rest of me was a lobster was it was just great to be in the cool water looking out at the dessert mountains under the blue sky. The whole area is the stuff of cowboys.  Lots of cowboy motifs and early Mexican touches in art. I love the turgoise blue jewelry.

I didn’t sleep the last night with the sun burn and managed to get to the airport feeling really tired and dying waiting in the airport seats back and body aching.  I arrived home and immediately had several bouts of explosive diarrhea and despite sleeping woke with low grade fever and total body pain. I did the no solids and only fluids and let the clinics know I’d work virtual not in person because by then others were saying they’d contracted covid the last day and on the their airplane return. I thought it was all psychosomatic and a product of not sleeping and sun burn but did accept the need for quarantine growing better each day with lingering dry cough. I was happy to finally eat solids ands and feel my life grow. I’d go from no energy to being able to feel alive again and still it seemed psychosomatic, the purge and rebirth, all the depth and enlightenment and sharing at IDAA. I’m booked for the Baltimore meeting next year.  It’s a life saver and was so thankful to join cybertdocs again and see the faces and hear the words of folk I so admire.  

Thank you God for this joyous experience.  Thank you for Laura and Madigan and my safe home to return to and the quick recovery this week.  Thank you for the sunshine and the fresh air.  Thank you Lord for all your blessings.  Thank you

Locus of Control

Locus of Control is a central concept of clinical psychiatry.  Developmentally a child moves from a magical sense of omnipotence where needs are received from a magical mommy being to increasing separation and frustration with the universe not being as understanding.  Ultimately with old age an individual gains humility and acceptance and realizes how little ‘control’ they have in a multibillion competing universe.  Anna Freud, the daughter of Sigmond, worked as a child psychiatrist and enveloped these ‘lines of development’ eg Narcissism to Altruism.  Jung described the “hero’s jouney’ which Joseph Campbell showed was a cross cultural normative process.

The recovery process shares these features.  An individual begins able to ‘control’ their addiction. Indeed for many the relationship doesn’t even involve a consideration of control and when the issue of ‘control’ arises they are too often deep in the rabbit hole already.    The relationship with the ‘false god’, or ‘substance’ is at first occasional. Eventually the person feels ‘controled’ by the substance and is increasingly unable to say ‘no’.   As Tom Waits so aptly said before he sought help for his addiction ,  he didn’t know who was writing the songs.

Locus of control describes the sense of autonomy and freedom a person feels and their sense of being an individual with choice.  Politically the historic Tory, conservative or even classical liberal position was that the individual rather than the government or external circumstances needed to change.  The original AA movement adopted the Christian Serenity Prayer, God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.  In the studies of change dynamics it was recognized that the individual must have a sense of control and decision making and ‘want’ to change.  Until then they ‘blamed’ the substance and external circumstances for their condition.  In marriage therapy as long as a person ‘blames’ the other then they themselves don’t need to change.  In the spiritual path the loving God is seen as always there but that the individual has turned away.  

Addiction is seen as alienation.  C.S. Lewis the great Christian theologian used to quip, ‘stop looking for the architect in the wall.  We say addiction and alcoholism are looking for love in all the wrong places.

As long as the problem is someone else’s as in the Hitchhiker’s Guide Acronym “SEP” (Somebody Else’s Problem) I didn’t have to do anything about it. Character is a conservative consideration.  We change our focus from food to well being to address our food addiction, that which was called gluttony in ancient days.  However if I consider the problem to be the government’s or Hollywood advertising , things I have the least control over, I don’t have to address my own individual problem. The so called  ‘Progressive movement’ today , a rather mundane historic retread, sees everything in terms of the collective whereas William James, father of American pragmatism, saw the world through the lense of the power of individual to change.  Collectivism, most known as ‘communism’ or it’s lesser variant ‘socialism’ sees the problems as ‘collective rather than individual’.  

In medicine we accept there are public health and individual health considerations. Both need to be addressed but initially the individual clinically must accept their need to change, whether it be an attitude or a behaviour before they can heal.

That’s the essence of ‘locus of control’.  At the mental health fulcrum the schizophrenic or paranoid feels the problem is you and you alone. Martin Buber say them as having an I and It understanding of the world rather than an I and You or I and Thou.  The locus of control is with the ‘it’ or the ‘feared object’.  

This is seen individually and politically.  Nitze promoted the individual as ‘superman’ . He marketed his ideas to the elite.  Marx claimed that ‘religion was the opiate of the masses’ yet religion said that the individual had the power of God within and has always been the most potent revolutionary force for change in history.  

Jung described the ‘collective unconscious’ and the individuals means of tapping into the ‘flow’ or what he called ‘synchronicity.  There is a sense of ‘Thy will’ as opposed to ‘my will’ a safer mainstream high way of tradition and custom which has been found through out the ages by trial and error in the same way as what is safe to eat has been learned.  The Conservative argues that we shouldn’t throw the baby out with the bath water and that one should keep an open mind but no so open as to let all one’s marble’s fall out.  Spiritually one seeks to align one’s own feelings with this greater source of feelings. The word yoga was to yolk the self with the greater self.  ‘God’s will, not my will’ described the obedience which underlay the most creative. Discipline and freedom are faces of the same coin. People often want license but claim they want freedom.  In revolution everyone acts with ‘license’ , the last of accountability which results in pillage rape and crime.  What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.  Change dynamics suggest that war is a consequence of so many people rejecting the idea of discipline and wanting the Bachanalian night, the return to the primitive self.  It has been described as the ‘unleashing of the dogs of war’.  

The Beatles song , “We don’t want a revolution’ followed their observation that tyranny followed tyranny but that growth and development progressed most in peace.  

In spiritual practice , the wise man attempts to change his behaviour, leading by example, giving up alcohol for a year or five before demanding the world stop selling alcohol.  Today the adolescent movements manipulated by corporations are marketting their various consumer products to the most mental impaired and youngest while hypocritically doing the opposite themselves of the very campaign they are promoting for others for their own profit. The world has always been divided into those who lead from behind or lead from in front.  There are the ‘front line’ worker and the workers so far distant from the reality.  The Monday morning quarterbacks and the people who actually have a dog in the race.

Locus of control is central to all of these situations and fundamental cornerstone of what is called ‘cooperative behaviour’.  Unfortunately “Prisoner’s Dilemna’ studies find that ‘cooperative behaivour’ does not come ‘naturally’ and politically it is most often achieved by coercision.  

Where that line’ 

ISAM (International Society of Addiction Medicine) 2019 Delhi India

This conference is truly a best conference.  The Pullman Aerocity Hotel is an excellent location not just for the rooms but also for the venue. Laura loves the elegant rooms with the grand bath.  I’m enjoying their expresso coffee provided by the in room espresso machine,  There’s also excellent wifi and we’ve loved room service.  

The venue is the very best, with a rock star stadium feel given the huge projections above the great stage   Most importantly the sound system is perfect. Given the variety of accents from Indian, English, Scottish to a wide variety of ESL European, this has been crucial for me, my hearing not the best to begin with.  The individual mikes have been working as well so we can actually hear the questions from the audience, a too common problem at so many conferences I’ve attended.

I love the huge Hall 1 but there are maybe a dozen smaller halls where I’ve enjoyed the more intimate setting for smaller group discussions. The lunches have been the best of Indian smorgasboard, a 5 star presentation for the taste.  There have been plenty of lounge spaces for colleagial discussions, often what truly makes a conference for me.  To be able to speak in person to one of the greats like Marc Galanter or RC Jiloha is so very inspirational.  

That said, the real joy has been in the speakers and their presentations, their insights and the evidence based research.  Therre were  dozens of speakers presenting at the same time in the various venues.  Consequently it’s impossible to attend them all though the desire is there.  I loved the presentation on the epidemiological surveys. and extent of the problem in India. 

India is 1.3 billion people, 80% Hindu but with a major mix of Muslims, Christians  Sikhs, Buddhists, Jains,  and others. By comparison United States is 330 million and Canada roughly 37 million. There are countless tribes and huge distinctions by areas of the north, south, east and west, with multiple languages despite Hindi being the official language. The joy for me, a Canadian, in India,  is that so many speak English so fluently, not just the educated by the common people as well.  I love to travel but feel so much safer and understand more when I can understand the people better.

India is a very ancient culture with generally high intelligence, highly educated with multiple languages and broad understanding. The urban centres are 21st century’s yet the rural regions are in places terribly backward.

When I was in Bombay more than 30 years ago that mixture of the space age juxtaposed with the ancient was what so fascinated me. It’s no different today  as my experience in Old Delhi showed, rickshaws and motorcycles.

The presenters surpassed themselves in the most prodigious and thoughtful research. Alok Agarwal reported the problem of heavy episodic drinking in the population with it’s strong association with accidents and fighting. Cannabis use was roughly 3% of the populations but mostly men.  However it commonly coupled with alcohol or other substances.  Opiate use, heroin, opium or pharmaceuticals was roughly 2%.  The telling news was that of those with alcohol dependence only one in 38 had received any treatment and one in 180 had received inpatient treatments. When one considers these percentages are of a billion and more, the actual numbers are staggering.  The size of the problem in India as it is all over the world being recognised by government and industry. The seriousness of it as a true emergency and crisis is evidence based. The costs are overhwelming, the loss of life and productivity are profound.  The surveys show that need and point to where best solutions may be found.  Dr. Pramrod Singh and Dr. Atul Ambekar also contributed greatly. Dr. Ambekar pointed out that cannabis and opium had been traditional and recreational with the British regulating this hundreds of years past but things had changed dramatically. The changes  in use the rise of heroin and disruption of community and family were all discussed at the conference with insights and solutions offered.

The chairs ensured the various presenters remained aware of the time. Consequently the meeting flowed like a river as compared to some meetings where the meeting has the feel of a big city traffic jam.

Psychiatry is commonly envisioned as a biological, psychological, sociological and spiritual field. So each of these areas were discussed. Advances in learning of the disease of addiction, presentation of neuro imaging and neuro pathways along with the various associated diseases ,such as AIDS, Hep C . This was where individual treatments were discussed with naltrexone, naloxones, suboxone and methadone cutting edge presentations.  Psychologically the contributions were more Indian with fascinating insights based on Veda and family changes. At the Social level there were marvellous presentations of treatment centres like Shafa and the whole realm of social psychiatry were discussed. Public health was so important. There was mention of 12 step programs and the loss of the relationships and alienation along with a profound discussion of the Gita idea of ‘attachment’ by Dr. Raju Hejala. He presented that in therapy he was effective in helping his patients see the self as not the drug or the addiction and become detached in their thinking from the addiction. 

Dr Khalsa formerly of the NIH thoroughly discussed the whole controversial issue of Cannabis as a medicine pointing out the paucity of research of the standard that the FDA would expect for a compound to be considered safe and effective. To be fair he presented what good had been found and the massive FDA associated research going on to find cannabinoid products that could add to our pharmaceutical tool box. 

Dr. Bunt did provide the most humorous sides showing the  big business of cannabis in the US with high end marketing and even a psychedelic  ‘church of cannibis’ underling that often for many cannabis is more a religion than anything else.

Dr. Nady el Guebaly, Order of Canada recipient and founder of ISAM presented on the need for more research and funding and the history of the rise of the drug problems in parallel to the decline in research funding. The present president of ISAM , Kathleen Brady addressed the issues of the rising crisis.. 

 The Indian Minister the honorable Mr. Gehlot gave a moving speech which was thoughtfully translated and provided in English as a hand out. It spoke so clearly and wisely of the problem and the government commitment

There were hundreds at the conference and I’ve only mentioned a few of the presenters , dozens and dozens speaking to different aspects of the problem of addiction. Dr. Elliott of Birmingham addressed the issue of tobacco use.  Dr. Montoya was especially interesting for me in his clear depiction of the problems and solutions. I was impressed to hear the preserntations on gambling and vaping.  It really was a solution focused conference. Fascinating hearing the remarkable advances in Korea, Iceland and Nepal just as examples. 

I’m missing a presentation now so will shower and get down to more.  So much genius in one location. So much hope too. Working in the DTES of Vancouver Canada in the midst of the fentanyl epidemic with so many young people dying despite our best efforts with opiate replacement therapies and abstinence therapies, it can be dreary.  Seeing and hearing Mr. Gehlot , an Indian Minister to 1.3 billion people speak so compassionately and seriously about the government involvement was uplifting. 

Also I loved seeing the World Congress of Psychiatry, Indian Psychiatric Assocition. Addiction Medicine, UN and WHO representatives at ISAM, all these organizations and more getting together to address this world crisis of immense proportion simply gave me, a lowly clinician, so much hope. I’ve also learned many things I can take back and apply immediately and perhaps make a difference in the lives of my patients who have lost everything to addiction and now are suicidal , chronically and sometimes acutely. For Suicide and Depression go hand in hand with addiction. But seeing the amazing faces of recovery and hearing the heartening successes from around the world was truly inspiring. 

Recovery: Whose job is it?

Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous

“You will be most successful with alcoholics if you do not exhibit any passion for crusade or reform. Never talk down to an alcoholic from any moral or spiritual hilltop, simply lay out the kit of spiritual tools for his inspection.””

Commentary

When we are teaching junior doctors and counsellors we advise them to watch themselves carefully to see if they are putting more effort than the patient into ‘rescuing or curing’ them.  Whose job is it?  I can’t make a person drink the medicine. I can give them the medicine.  Indeed it’s been said that I will hold their head under the water to make them drink but that after a while even with that approach even some would drown rather than drink.

Addiction is in part a pout.  Enablers are treating alcoholics and adults like children when they are adults.  Perhaps proto adult,  Adolescent really, but to be adult you don’t start ‘babying them’ for their own good. You offer them resources to ‘recover’, not to persist in their addiction.

I remember hearing these two addicts discussing social services, “I’ve now got a place, there’s free meals at the church, and I’ve got a bus pass, now all my disability money can go to drugs.’  

Giving money to an addict is actually giving money to his dealer.  One of the most successful ‘harm reduction’ policies which worked for years until some aetheist interfered, was a local priest who took checks from addicts on Welfare Wednesday check day, then doled their money back to them daily. I have a patient whose sister gives her brother $10 a day because when he had $20 he spent it on crack. His dealer actually approached him each day to ask if he had $20.

Adulthood is ‘accountability’.  

The brain disease of addiction is that it causes the forebrain or judgement to be impaired. A person loses the capacity for ‘delayed gratification’.

 “I want it all and I want it now.”

There is a regression from adulthood back to adolescent learning.  In recovery we describe the person as "40 going on 15." It seems there’s an emotional delay that occurs once a person becomes addicted. Most people learn to ‘self soothe’ without drugs and alcohol. The alcoholic or addict may act juvenile but they’re always very canny.  Their capacity to think is not impaired in that sense. The fatal flaw is their inability to carry through with plans.  They have all the ideas of the ‘adolescent’ or ‘child’ but lack the capacity to complete tasks, overcome adversity, work together, delay gratification.  These are all adult skills.  Drugs disrupt learning 'adulting'.

I treat mechanical brain injury, when a person drives a motorcycle into the wall hitting their head and chemical brain injury, when a person dumps drugs and alcohol on the chemical circuit board of the brain.  The behaviour and function are very similiar though fortunately for the alcoholic and addict initially the damage is reversible if they abstain.  The recovery process are the same.

In ‘detox’ treatment, empirically it was necessary to establish a barrier if only slight to access.  Years ago when I was heading a detox we would admit a person who while drinking had remorse and wanted to ‘go on the wagon’.  As the drugs cleared their system they ‘changed their mind’ and left. Today most detox require a person to be seeking detox for 24 to 48 hours. The success is greater.  The greater the commitment the greater the success. Even with Suboxone a person must be in ‘withdrawal’ before the treatment can begin. If this medication which is a combination of opiate and antagonist was given to a person ‘high’ it would just throw them into painful withdrawal.  

The treatment of choice for addiction and alcoholism is abstinence.  Harm reduction has always been considered a valid ‘stepping stone’ or ‘entry’ point to recovery.  Recovery is the whole ‘process’.     

When you feel you’re doing more work at their recovery than they are, it’s time to back off.  Alcoholism and addiction are in part escapism. The adult with every drink becomes more childlike, seeking the tit or womb.  They become legless and incompetent.

With an injured person in the emergency we as doctors provide immediate care and take over the function for the person in the first day but even if we put them on respirators and bypass machines we are always working to get them off.

The survival post surgery is best in those who get up and walk on their own.  Why would we think differently in treating mental illnesss. The aim is to restore a person to full functioning. Yet there are enablers and those who ‘appear’ to care. but are really negative not believing in the possibility of recovery for an individual.  They are the enablers who infanticize the alcoholic or addict and provide them everything.

I wonder when I see what my mechanical brain injured patient is given versus the chemical brain injured person. When the latter is getting ‘more’ something is wrong.  The recovery from mechanical brain injury, if severe, still can occur but it’s slow. Fortunately the person isn’t continuing to hit themselves in the head with a hammer like the addict who continues to relapse.

If they  are alcoholic or addict continues to drink especially then we are the problem not them. We are enabling them to do more brain injury and more destruction.  Limit setting is adulting.

Unfortunately as children mirror adults, addicts and alcoholics mirror their caregivers.  When caregivers are unable to set limits, have rules, be themselves disciplined in their ‘giving’, then the addict or alcoholic doesn’t learn. As a life guard my first lesson was not to let the drowning person pull me down with them.

The original AA members when they went out to talk to an active alcoholic found that if they went alone they were as likely to start drinking again themselves.

We’ve seen many of the institutions established in good faith to help alcoholics and addicts take on the emotional maturity and behavioural developmental stages of the alcoholics and addicts.  The institution is pulled down by the drowning alcoholic and addict.  

There are caregivers and victims.

The joke in the church was that it should be called ‘sinners anonymous’. It was also said that we should not  ‘judge’ another because they ‘sinned’ differently.

It was found in Al Anon, the organization for friends and family of alcoholics, that ‘enabling’ and engaging in the ‘self delusions’ of alcoholics,’arguing with them’ , ‘coercing’ them etc was counter productive.  The Al Anon learned instead to ‘detach with love.’

The “holier than thou’ approach to addiction simply doesn’t work. The ‘I am the doctor, you are the patient’ doesn’t work either. What has worked quite miraculously is the approach of “I’ve had your problem" and "I’ve got a little further ahead while I’m still working on a problem.”

I asked a doctor how he had climbed Mount Everest and he told me that there was a club in Switzerland where people who had climbed Mount Everest gathered. He’d gone and learned from them.12 step programs have been similar clubs.  These are people who were spiritually bankrupt but now are rich on life. 

The job is not to ‘feed’ the alcoholic or addict for life’ but rather to ‘share the spiritual tools with those who want to learn and want recovery’.  The "Stages of Change" was developed by Prochaska to address the Motivational level of individuals who had various diseases.  As a caregiver one offers the ‘options’ and encourages ,but doesn’t do the work for the individual and doesn’t enable or ‘carry’ the person other than briefly.  

One of the problems with lack of resources in the area is that many ‘acute’ resources have been commandeered by the ‘chronic’ .  Hospital beds that are specially established as an ‘acute’ services are being used by mismanagment government for ‘chronic beds’.  Lack of chronic low cost housing results in losses of millions as the mismanaged constipated system backs up and high priced acute services are wasted on ‘chronic’ care.

Perhaps this is evidence that the ‘system’ and ‘institution’ has become more drunk or drug addicted or ‘diseased’ than those for who the service was intended.

Salt Spring Island 2019

We loved the Twassessen Gulf Islands ferry ride,. Having White Spot bacon cheese burgers while whales broke the surface ahead and around. Being in Active Pass brought back fond memories of the SV Giri. Laura reminisced about Mayne Island.  Pretty soon we were through and there was the place where I caught ling cod and salmon. There was Montague Harbour where I anchored so often. Then we were coming into Long Harbour

We drove the Ford F-350 white pick up truck with Adventurer camper triumphantly onto Salt Spring.

The SSI Rally began the next day.  I called Kirk. He lives on the island and manages Islandia Bed and Breakfast here among other business endeavours.

“Take the Vesuvius Road.’  He said.

It was a bit touch and go to nget the wide tall camper up his winding driveway but Kirk really was a good flag man. Great to see him.  60 years of friendship and still going.  Hugs. Laura has know him 20 years so it was a grand reunion.  Then we finally met John, whose place this all is.  

The truck and camper were left in the parking area, the struts getting  a real work out to balance the camper on the slopes.  Nachos on the deck.  Old friend and new friend conversations. It’s been a year since we’ve seen Kirk.  Facebook has kept some of the history going. 

The view from the deck is magnificent. Pine, spruce, eucalyptus of the island.  The channel below. The new cabin cruiser at anchor with the 77 corvette gas engine.  Stories of adventure with the new ‘project’. 

Tannis and Lindi had visited. Talk of Robertson’s. Discussion of Vincent Massey High School.  The reunion next year.

“I was shocked at how many people had died.” He exclaimed

“We’re at that age.” I replied.,

John was keen to swim. Kirk and I followed him down the steep stairs to the rocks. I remembered the Minaki dock and diving off that in the morning. Mr. Laidlaw would lead the pack of boys.  The girls would swim later with Mrs. Laidlaw.  A quieter affair.  Not the cannon balling and screaming of the boys.  The water as cold as this was.  

John,​Kirk and I swam out to the platform.  Three guys lounging.  There must be thousands doing this at this very moment on docks and platforms through this latitude.  The sun declining.  Evening whispering pink at the edges of the sky.  We swam back.  Hot shower luxury at the top of the stairs.  Change to dry clothes.

Kirk barbecued the salmon perfectly.

We ate and talked of the paranormal. Personal reflections on seeing the ghosts of our dead family and friends.  Visitations before and after funerals.  Sweat lodge and ICU stories of others. Moody and Eben Alexander. Psychic Wars.  Princeton. Duke≥  Kirk talked of Prem.  John had been to India and reflected on the places Laura and I’d  be visiting in our up coming trip.  He talked of 3 d printing and start ups.  Kirk and I shared about what we knew of past loves, the angels who’d passed through our lives.  Nostalgia, humour and gratitude.  

Lots of laughter.  God friends. God friends.

Laura had gone early to bed.  Gilbert had made friends with Cocoa the black cat.  Cocoa followed Gilbert and I back to the camper to ensure we were safe.  Laura and I slept so soundly. The quiet and joy of this graceful place.  Kirk shared that the B&B had hundreds of ‘bests’ and ‘thanks’.  Elegant, cozy, refined and nestled here in the heart of ancient spiritual Salt Spring.  

In the morning Kirk guided me up the winding Islandia drive way.  Then he drove ahead to take us back to Ganges. We stopped for propane , parking there to walk on to the Tree House Cafe.  More old friend conversations and laughter.  Fabulous Huevos Rancheros. More coffeee.  Gilbert loved all the passing dogs and people.  It was a beautiful blue sky and sunshine day.,

Parting hugs.

Laura and I drove up to the Farmer’s Institute.  Parked in the field and organized the camper. We were the earliest. Others would stream in through out the day,. We loved watching them set up tents. Lots of young girls. The cutest most loved baby in the camp beside ours.  Dogs and children sounds.  

Just great to see Brian.  Retired forester, he shared all the places he’d been this last year in his camper. The year previous he’d taken it across Canada but this year it had been mostly northern BC and Alberta. I’d been to Pemberton and others who’d joined us waxed poetic about camping there and the Okanagan.  Brian has a great hug. We’re lucky to see each other a few times a year. One of the best of people.  

So many big hearts here.  No big egos. We’re melllowed with age. Some big brains but really it’s the big heart people we so enjoy.  I was reminded of Kirk’s friend Judith and her poverty of wealth but richness in friends.  Kirk had told us of her death and celebration of life, quoting her phrases that others had repeated. 

We collected our reginstration material, coloured our name tag sheep.  Back at the camper we napped and read. The first speaker came on in the evening. Fewer people than previous year.  Lots of announcements. Then a classic story shared. At the end we ‘circled up’.  Holding hands in a big circle, saying the briefest prayer of hope.  

We met up with Murray and Chris. They’d come on his red Harley, camping where he had the year before≥. We were glad they came by.  We shared stories. Laura and I really liked Chris. Murray is a favourite for his humor and stories.  Daring dashing larger than life character. 

“She’s down to earth and easy to be with,” Laura said of Chris.

“I didn’t talk too much.  Didn’t offend anyone.” I asked.

“You were just fine.  Wa all had a good time. “ she said.  

I worry when I’m having a good time.  Paranoid, I look around for government thought police and joy police.  Wait for the next shoe to drop. Trauma’s of the past.  Two faced folk lying.  But it’s safe here. I’m relaxing again.  Among friends. God people.

In the bed before sleep Laura, Gilbert and I all hug then I put the poor boy down in his bed.  Laura and I read our iPad Kindle stories then drifted off to sleep., We heard other campers voices sharing.  No loud canned music.  No techno noise.  Campground sounds.  Country night sounds.  

I woke this morning and felt so rested.  I’ve slept in the group mind of God’s children.  There’s a lightness of spirit in the air.  I open the camper’ Venetian blinds and see he baby  playing on his blanket  next door by his older brother. The mother is having her coffee.

I walked Gilbert about the half waking , half sleeping camp.  I  picked black berries from the bush by the road. They tasted so sweet. 

Islandia B&B

SSI Rally - Lambroast and camp out at the Farmer’s Istitute

IDAA 2019 Knoxville Tennessee, Part 2

It’s Sunday. I’m sitting in the Knoxville Market square.  I’ve just come from hearing Lori share her experience, strength and hope. She’s a humble heroine of the soul.  What an amazing story of hope,  growth and humor.  With epidemic suicide rates among doctors I’m so glad she found her way here.

 My personal nemesis has been sociopaths and psychotic people in power. I’ve fulfilled my contract, doing the best possible healing,  with the best training. I’ve served, reducing  “morbidly and mortality”, fighting disease and saving lives. 

Today that’s of little importance compared with ‘political correctness.’  Today,  the patient can die so long as the ‘chart’ lives. It’s all about spin and who you know. 

My police friend described her leaving the force saying, “I became a police woman to ‘fight crime’ . At the end end all I was allowed to do was ‘record’ crime’.  I feel like I joined the best hockey team in Canada. However today the  coach  only excelled in writing memos. Instead of firing coaches, doctors are required do more laps of the ice.

Lori’s challenges were family, sense of loss and betrayal traced back to childhood. I suspect my anti authority issue could relate to  being caned and strapped in school for ‘talking back’. 

 IDAA is always a time of deep reflection.  It’s not a place to ‘blame’ as much as I enjoy that. We discuss ‘choices’. 

In the psychiatry breakout meeting we talked of retirement, hearing among others, from my favourite retired psychiatrist,  his joy in welded art. Others talked of ways of winding down. Meanwhile the youngest heard  our stories and shared their own struggles with their new careers and their aspirations. 

It’s sadly the only place in the profession today that we talk openly and honestly without fear of retribution by the authorities or ‘loss of face’.  I attended the national medical meeting and enjoyed the didactic ‘fact’ lectures somewhat but felt so much ego. I was glad I’d worn my suit and tie. 

At IDAA most everyone wore shorts and Hawaiian shirts except for the banquets. The girls looked great in sun dresses. The ladies were so elegant. The group cleaned up well. Every conference there’s a thousand present plus or minus a hundred or so. Some 40,000 plus are active members. 

Saturday night banquet Merve gave the most succinct and moving banquet speech. He described his journey of recovery as a series of interventions  of divine and human love. He ended his extraordinarily miraculous talk with a quote from the Doobie Brother’s “Without love where would we be now?” “Without Love where would we be now!”. 

Of course,it was a medical conferenece too. That day I’d attended a terrific CME discussing reward centers, the amygdala, nucleus accumbens, the pre frontal cortex, and effects of dopamine and oxytocin. which drugs did specifically what. We even learned the genetic codes associated with predisposition to alcoholism. 

The Friday CME was especially good. I loved Dr. Michael Baron’s talk, Prescribing and Pain. In Tennessee the doctors prescribing opiates must attend two hours of CME on addiction and opiates. I was privileged to attend this, truly appreciating the combination of neuroscience , public health and common sense presented. 

Abstinence remains the treatment of choice  but Dr. Bill Haning's talk, Cultural Aspects of Addiction,  on Culture of Addiction emphasized that treatment  isn’t just stopping a substance but involves significant life changes to prevent relapse. The work addressed in this CME was about harm reduction and abstinence.  The speaker talked of the great benefits of AA fellowship but also discussed a variety of groups which also help. 

Having dealt with so much grief, such mind numbing, debilitating, heart rending sadness , I simply enjoyed the  Dr Jes Montgomery's talk on grief and recovery. It was healing personally and certainly gave me tools to help with patients.

Our small group discussion of illnesss and recovery, dealing with pain without opiates, avoiding relapse when opiates were needed post surgery, was highly informative.  I’d thought this group of doctors who were so good looking and smart were immune and immortal.  We all discussed  various illness we’d had and various treatments. .One had just had surgery. I’d had a dental implant. Another had arthritis.  It’s one thing to read  the textbooks some of which were written by people in the room, but a whole other thing to hear what people actually did.  

As a psychiatrist we learn about the ‘self’ , the false self, the ego, and  ‘persona’ . Quite frankly IDAA is the only place I really get to talk with other physicians,but especially psychiatrists. The other docs and specialists say it’s the same them..  I loved my colleague from a small town saying this was the only time he’d spoken truthfully and meaningfully with another psychiatrist in ‘years’.  

Training as an analytic psychotherapist  I’d early enjoyed bearing my soul and gaining  useful insights . But here it was even better because I knew that the psychiatrist I was sharing with had been divorced like me. No one claimed to have the answers here. No one was holier that thou. I just love the lack of hypocrisy. There certainly wasn’t any pomposity which seems to thrive elsewhere. 

Dick didn’t pretend he didn’t have feel pain walking. Cheryl didn’t conceal her love and concern. No one was just ‘fine’ (that’s an acronym which ‘fucked inside, nice exterior’ ).  Everyone’s hurting sometime. But here everyone knew that and also also shared their love and their joy. 

I heard the most wonderful stories of trips, travels, children and grandchildren, recovery and successes in work.I was so pleased my young Canadian friend was now on the national board. Several other docs I knew had completed fellowships, while others had become heads of programs and hospitals. 

Through the year I read about the ‘greats’ in our fields who I meet here.  World renown plastic surgeons and cardiologists with the rankest sense of humor continue to inspire me.  The most beautiful brilliant elegant ladies talking intimately about their disease and finally asking for help touch my inner being. I laugh and tear up more in these days than I do all year.

It was also so moving to be among the many there with incredibly long term marriages.  What examples these 30, 40 and 50 year married doctors provided. My friends Art and Carole have 53 years together but seem like high school sweethearts.  

I loved seeing Adam and Corinne when Corinne celebrated the Jerry Moe program sharing what it meant for her son. I loved seeing the Jerry Moe kids and the outrageous teens.  The babies and toddlers there represented hope and faith in the flesh.  

Overall I felt again I’d entered an adult learning place  of genius and creativity beyond the limited world of bean counters and administration that saw health care as commodity. I was able to discuss difficult patients and changes in treatment over coffee and in  hall way consults.  

The whole relevance of ‘sign in’ CME came up for discussion in our little group where the actual definition of a professional was so reminiscent of what I’d signed up for. “I learn from a patient. If someone comes in with something I don’t know, that triggers my research and consultation.  I don’t pay attention to all this other stuff that does’t apply to me and my area of work.”  The anesthesiologist shared.

That was exactly what I thought.   I will never forget administrative doctor shouting ‘doctors should never learn from patients’ they’re there to teach the patients’. By contrast,  at times over coffee,  it seemed like a ‘barter market’. I was sharing psychiatry jewels I’d been bequeathed to get in return dermatology pearls. This is the  way ‘adult professionals’ learn. But then we wondered if this only worked because we were in this IDAA bubble where it was okay to be to not know everything’, to be vulnerable, and to share. I joked about sitting at the ‘in table’ with Art and Dick and Graeme.  

It was fun to be at IDAA.  I emailed a friend who I hope to see at next year’s high school reunion saying, “IDAA  iwas like being at a doctors ‘ elementary school reunion’ . It could only be better if Jerry Moe and the kids let’s us join their program. All that was missing was the dance with the mirrored balls hanging from the ceiling.

Next year it’s Spokane. IDAA2020 Spokane.

I love the town of Spokane and already know some brilliant psychiatrists there.  I’m thinking of riding my Harley down and certainly wearing boxers even if they do ride up my ass.  I’m all signed up.  IDAA is like the love story “same time next year’.  

I know I’d never have been able to stay a doctor and especially a psychiatrist without IDAA.  I might not even be alive.  I certainly wouldn’t have this life beyond my wildest dreams.  I may not have the spaceship I want but I can truly say with the deepest gratitude I’ve had times of being rocketed into the fourth dimension.  I can’t wait to read the cyberdoc on line discussions (and gossip)  in the coming weeks.  I love hearing  Hugh, Nathan,  Zeke and Dave . I actually talked to two doctors Saturday  who had been to Antatica. One who worked there and the other wanted to see penguins. There’s something about belong to a group of doctors with characters like that.

God bless.

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