Sobriety Coin

I received this Sobriety Coin after a month of rehab. On it is stamped the words, "Keep Coming Back" and "1 Month".

April 9th, 1996

Another doctor came to take more blood this morning. He said (again) it was to check for everything; liver, kidney function etc etc. Id heard rehab strips you down to rebuild you but this is ridiculous (but cool in morbid kind of way.) I was wearing a dicki bow today too and this had the nurses saying I was "very posh". Well for a guy in hus mid twenties to be in a drying out clinic, I thought id better have some standards hehe. She asked if id finished the 'play' to the too. Play? "Its apoem" I corrected her. Dainty little thing. I like her. Lesley her name is. Blokes name. Hmm.
Went to another meeting. Angie told the group that she had been addicted to Temazempam for 11 years and I told her Id been using green eggs (slang for Temazepam) too. Paul, a very well spoken gentleman who has famous connections, asked "what are these eggs?"
"Sleeping pills shaped like eggs", Angie replied. "Green ones", I added. Paul is amusing (in a kind way.) He has a fairly high position within the church and clearly lives in a different world from Angies. Nice chap though.

12:30pm had a meeting with Dr Gaskell, one of the head psychiatrists in Britain. We've paid for the best afterall. Soft spoken, thankfully got on with him well as ive a month of this stuff to face.
Trish told me she can't wait to hear my life story later in group therapy. Im looking forward to it as well. Not in the slightest bit worried about speaking in front of large groups. I love attention. Angie also commentated that I looked smart. I would f**k her if only its against the rehabs rules, "no fraternizing with fellow patients." Bloody spoilsports!
In therapy I told the group the bottle became glued to my hand when I picked it up and John, a counsellor, said, "I love this bloke!" Went to relaxation afterwards where we were all taught how to chill out. Breathing techniques etc. The 'teacher' is gorgeous. Went to Angie's room later for a chat. She writes poetry too.

In the evening John, Trish, Alan and myself went to Alan's room for coffee. Got back to my room around 12:20am where I read some Thom Gunn.

April 8th, 1996

My 'poetry station' in rehab

April 8th, 1996

Went for a walk in the countryside this morning. It was quite pleasant but felt like a school field trip because we walked in little groups of 3 and 4, with a counsellor leading the way like a teacher. I felt slightly offended at being thought of as addicts that cannot be trusted.
After the stroll, a doctor came into my room and asked, "have you finished taking the non permitted prescribed pills Steven?" I had brought some Mogadon and Valium with me and hidden them in my stuff. Bastards must have found them! "What pills?" I replied innocently, butter hopefully not melting. "The pills Norman (counsellor) told me about." He said not angrily.
Im certain these rooms have hidden cameras! Something felt rum. Oh rum! I had to give them up or Id be out and Id paid far too much for that. Sly f**kers. Still, im paying them to get me clean so I couldn't be too bitter.
Norman assured me they didn't practice hypnotism or any screwing with the mind to get you off alcohol. And this doctor told me yesterday that they don't do electrode treatment. "No! Nothing like that." He half laughed. It was a very real fear for me because this place can seem a bit "One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest" at times.
Sent letters to Stu, Julie, John and Danny. Another AA meeting this afternoon. John (the chap nextdoor to me) said to the group. "It seems that me and this kid have run with the same crowd. We're kindred spirits!" And I guess he was right. The counsellor also said, "Steve, you seem to like talking. What do you have to say?" Adding also, "you're a prime example of someone ready for recovery. Enthusiastic and full of go. If I may say that?" I was pleased for some reason.
Theres an AA meeting in Burnley tonight but I refused to go on account im still throwing up bile and feel dreadful (even with sedatives.) And chucking my food down the pan. I hope the pipes don't block. Trish asked if I was going but I told her Id been excused this once. "Okay darling, see you later!" Darling? Could be in there.

Rehab Begins

Me entering rehab

In 1996 my drinking had gotten so bad that I decided to dry out in a clinic in pretty 'posh' private hospital. I was 25 years old. I was 'doing rehab' before so called celebrities made it fashionable. (It isn't a fashion statement, clever or trendy by the way.)
Being a poet/writer, I naturally kept a diary (as I always have done.) Here it is.

"It would be a shame if one of Britain's future talents, burnt out before he was recognised."

John Hadrick, fellow Gisburne patient.

5th April, 1996

Just checked into the Gisburne Park private hospital. Rehab. The long drive up to Lancashire wasn't too bad, but then again I was drunk. I got through 12 Hooch (alcoholic lemonade) and lots of vodka and tonic. Oh and 6 Mogadon and 4 Valium. Relaxed was not the word.
Its a very nice place, pretty surroundings with free roaming peacocks. Oh and the nurses are the marrying type too! A doctor gave me a check up after I was booked in. Blood monitor, the full works. He suggested I go on a course of Librium. My first meal was pork in some posh sauce with green beans. I flushed it all down the toilet because im dreadfully sick and spewing pretty streams of green bile. Nice. The glamour of alcoholism.
When the tranqs settled me, I phoned everyone back home to let them know I was okay. A lie. Even with medication, I feel bloody terrible. Took 4 Mogadon to help me sleep. These nurses are extremely attentative (suppose they have to be with the price of private rehab), one calls routinely to see if she can do nything for me. I think a blow job would be off limits.

Steven Francis '96

April 7th, 1996

There are 2 nurses, Lesley and Eileen, keep on calling me "flower" in the morning. I told them I was a poet and they asked me to write a poem about them! Lesley called again lunchtime to drop off my valium and I told her I was working on the poem. She sounded pleased. Its hard to think of poetry when my head and body are in tatters thanks to the bottle.
Attended my first AA meeting this evening at 8pm in the big ballroom. Gisburne used to be a stately home and far from looking (and behaving) like a hospital, it looks like....well a grand mansion. There were around 30 of us there (some from outside the rehab) but it was never intimidating. Presumably the anti anxiety pills helped! Smart young woman there. She was looking at a guy sitting next to me who looked in a right old mess and said, "Ive been looking at you all evening (I did hope she was saying it to me) and ive only seen you smile twice. I see sadness in your eyes and i'll pray for you tonight if thats alright?"
There are real messes here, people who had been to jail etc. I thought I was bad. Although I did relate to what they all said.

I get more Mogadon tonight too I learned. I was sitting in my room after the meeting when there was a light tap on the door. "Sorry to disturb you Steve, but do you want me o leave you a sleeping pill?" Enquired a kindly nurse. Kindly or not, it was a bloody stupid question!