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As I sat
in my therapist's reception office, I began thinking back on the past few
weeks. According to USC-Aiken, because I drank a couple beers (gasp!), I was
a head case who needed immediate medical attention. Which brings us to my
therapy.
As I sat in the waiting room at the
therapist's office, I looked around at the many pamphlets on the wall. They
all had very general drawings on them along with captions such as
'Contemplating Suicide?' or 'School Getting You Stressed?' They actually had
a pamphlet regarding 'Elderly Abuse' which depicted an old man getting
beaten up by two small children. As I stared at this cover, realizing I had
reached the end of the universe, I was called back to the therapist's
office.
The first thing I noticed was that my
therapist walked with an unbelievably bad limp. His head bobbed at least six
inches when he walked. And as sick as this is, it relaxed me in a way. I
felt superior to him because of this. Like I said, at times I can be a sick,
sick person.
We entered his office, and I sat down
on his couch. Our session began with him stating some facts for me, such as
seventy percent of college students questioned said that they don't drink at
all. I tried to act impressed with this blatant string of propaganda; though
I'm sure I probably got a couple of eye-rolls in there. At the end of the
session, I had to take a test that would determine whether or not I was an
alcoholic. One question read "True or false: I am a normal drinker." I
didn't know whether this mean I am an average drinker, in that I don't drink
any more than anyone else, or I drink on a normal basis. I tried to ask for
help, but the doctor said he wasn't allowed to help (after that, I didn't
really mind making fun of his limp anymore). I marked true and left.
Around the same time I was doing
this, I was also serving my fifty hours' community service at Goodwill
Industries. This work varied from torturous to no big thing, depending on
who was working as the manager that day. On days when the female manager was
in, I was stuck sorting clothes, sweeping the floor, basically every crap
job that nobody else wanted to do. But when Dwayne was working, I had it
easy. When a car came to the drive-through area, I helped the person get
their boxes out of the car and filled out a receipt if they wanted it.
Occasionally, I was allowed to price things, too. But, for the most part, it
was just a lot of sitting around, playing Brick Attack on my cell phone. I'm
not sure how it helped me or anyone else for me to have to be there, but
them's the breaks, I suppose. I did my time with a smile and left. Only to
find out that I had been given an additional eight hours for skipping a
class on DUI.
Yes, I was scheduled to attend a DUI
class, even though I wasn't driving drunk, nor have I ever driven drunk. I
took offense to the fact that I had to go to this class. Just because I was
drinking a beer, now I have to watch this video of a teenager's brain
falling out of his head? I took it as a slap to my face. What made them
think that I deserved to have to waste my afternoon having a cop tell me the
same thing I've been hearing from every authority figure I had been in
contact with for the past four years: don't drink and drive. Just a little
more proof that the point of PTI is to 'inconvenience you straight'.
My friend who I got busted with had
gone to his second therapy session and was told that he scored a zero on the
alcoholic test. Zero means you have no problem, five means you are a
full-blown alcoholic. After hearing this, I went into my next session
anxious to see what I scored. My doctor, who I had come to affectionately
refer to as Peg-Leg (straight to Hell, I know), discussed the test, and
asked me what I thought I made on it. Naturally, I said "a zero, I hope."
"Daniel, you got a five."
Heh? This makes sense, now, doesn't
it? My friend, who drinks almost every night, scores a zero and I, who can
count the number of times he's been drunk on two hands, gets a FIVE!!! Who
says the medical system is flawed? Doctor Peg Leg wanted to talk about why I
have such a dependency on alcohol (his exact words). As we talked, I
realized what he really wanted me to do was blame my family for every
problem I've ever had in my life. "Did your father ever hit you when you
were younger?" "No." "Did you have an unhappy childhood?" "No." It went on
like this for another twenty-five minutes. When the session ended, the
Doctor suggested that I continue to go to therapy with him so we can get to
the bottom of my problem as we walked out. Without saying a word, I kicked
his bad leg out from under him, then proceeded to pee in his face as he
tried crawling back up, laughing the whole time.
Okay, none of that happened. I said
"no, thank you" and left, and that was the end of that chapter in my life.
But, luckily, I was done with PTI next week, and things would be a-okay from
here on in, right?
At my final meeting, I was given a
random drug test. At first, I was more irritated than anything, having to
pay twenty-two dollars to prove that I haven't done any drugs, which I know
I haven't. But once I was at the clinic, I found a whole new set of
problems. It was then that I realized I was very pee-shy. Because we're all
such deviant criminals, the PTI policy is that you must complete a drug test
while one of the nurses at the clinic watches you. This is much harder than
it sounds. Especially when the nurse is roughly twenty-five years old,
blonde hair, blue eyes. After about three hours, I finally got the cup
halfway full, and left, fully destroyed.
And that was it. I was done with PTI.
And, what did I learn from it? Did I have some startling epiphany, and
suddenly become the Golden Child? No. I'm still a screw-up, I still have a
drink every once in a while. I don't know if USC-Aiken expected the therapy
and police raids to have any effect on me at all. And, as far as PTI, I'm
pretty sure it was just a way for the state of South Carolina to finagle
around $600 out of my parents. Maybe next time I should just go to a
friend's apartment off-campus if I want to drink. Congratulations, USCA and
PTI, thanks to you, there's one more drunk driver on the road. |
