DOCTOR BOB'S NIGHTMARE

(pp. 142)

Doctor Bob is one of the co-founders of Alcoholics Anonymous. We consider our Fellowship to have begun on his first day of permanent sobriety, June 10, 1935.

Up until he died in 1950, he carried the A.A. message to more than 5,000 alcoholics, and also gave them his medical services free of charge.

Throughout his years of service, he was helped by Sister Ignatia at St. Thomas Hospital in Akron, Ohio, one of the greatest friends our Fellowship will ever know.

I was born in a small New England village of about 7,000 people. It was a place where everyone took pride in their morals and values. No beer or liquor was sold in the neighborhood, except the state-run liquor store. At that store, you might be able to buy a beer if you could convince the clerk you really needed it. Otherwise you'd leave empty-handed, with none of the magical liquid I believed could solve all human problems. People who ordered liquor by mail from Boston or New York were seen as untrustworthy by most of my neighbors. The town had plenty of churches and schools where I studied as a young boy.

My father was a well-known businessman, and both my father and mother participated in church activities. They were both smart, well-educated people. Unfortunately for me, I was their only child. This may have been one reason why I grew up selfish. And that selfishness played an important part in my alcoholism.

From childhood through high school, my parents forced me to go to church. This included Sunday school and evening service, Monday night youth group, and sometimes a Wednesday evening prayer meeting. Spending all of that time studying made me reach a decision. I decided that once I left my parents' home, I would never, ever, go to church again. And I stuck to that decision for 40 years, with very few exceptions.

After high school I spent four years at one of the best colleges in the country. Drinking was the most popular activity there. Almost everyone seemed to do it. I did it more and more, and had lots of fun without much trouble. I seemed to be able to bounce back the next morning better than most of my fellow drinkers. Many of them were cursed (or perhaps blessed) with hangovers and upset stomachs. I've never had a headache in my entire life, which makes me believe that I was an alcoholic from the very beginning. My whole life was about doing what I wanted to do, without thinking about the rights or wishes of anyone else. This way of living became more and more important to me as the years passed. I graduated at the top of my class according to my fellow drinkers, but not according to the college dean.

The next three years I spent in Boston, Chicago, and Montreal working for a large manufacturing company. I sold railroad equipment, gas engines, and many other types of heavy hardware. During these years, I drank as much as I could afford and still never felt sick. Although I started to have morning jitters at times. Over those three years, I only missed one half-day of work.

A shaky start to medical school

My next move was to begin medical school at one of the largest universities in the country. While I was there, I made it my business to drink even more seriously than I had before. Since I was able to drink huge amounts of beer, I was made a member of one of the university's fraternities. Soon I was one of its leaders. Many mornings I started walking to class, but then turned and walked back to my fraternity house because of my jitters. Even though I was fully prepared for class, I didn't want to be called on to answer a question while I was so shaky.

This went from bad to worse until the spring of my second year. After a prolonged period of drinking that spring, I decided that I just couldn't complete my medical degree. So I packed my suitcase, headed south, and spent a month on a large farm owned by a friend of mine.

After a while, it felt like a fog had cleared out of my brain. I realized that quitting school was very foolish and that I had better return and continue my education. When I reached school, I discovered that my professors had other ideas about my future: They were ready to kick me out. I argued with them, and they finally allowed me to return and take my exams. I passed them all with good grades. My professors still insisted that I was not welcome at that particular university anymore. After many painful discussions, they finally gave me the credits I had earned. I transferred to a different leading university and entered as a junior that fall.

There, my drinking became much, much worse. The boys in the fraternity house where I lived felt like they needed to contact my father. He made the long trip to visit me at the university, and tried to convince me to stop drinking. It didn't work. In fact, I kept on drinking, and drank more hard liquor than I had before.

Just before my final exams, I went on a particularly intense drinking spree. When I went to take the tests, my hand shook so hard that I could not hold a pencil. I turned in at least three completely blank tests, resulting in failing grades. I did so badly that I had to repeat two more quarters while remaining sober, if I wanted to graduate. I managed to do this, proving to my professors that I could earn decent grades and behave myself when I needed to.

I did so well during that time that I was awarded a high-level medical internship in a western city, where I spent two years. During these two years I was so busy that I hardly left the hospital at all. This meant I could not get into any trouble.

When those two years were over, I opened an office downtown. I had some money, all the time in the world, and lots of stomach trouble. I soon discovered that a couple of drinks helped my stomach feel better, at least for a few hours at a time. This made it extremely easy for me to go back to my old heavy drinking ways.

Poor health and prohibition

By this time my health was starting to get worse and worse. Hoping to get some relief, I checked myself into nearby hospitals at least a dozen times. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place now. If I did not drink, my stomach hurt me terribly. If I did drink, my nerves did the same thing. After three years of this, I wound up in the local hospital where they tried to help me. But while I was there, I would get my friends to sneak in a quart of liquor for me. Or I would steal any alcohol I could find inside the building. This meant that I got worse very quickly.

Finally, my father sent the doctor from my hometown to visit me. Somehow he convinced me to go back with him to my hometown to recover. I was in bed for about two months before I could leave the house. I stayed there for a couple of months and then returned to my medical practice. I think I was deeply scared by this experience, or by the doctor, or both. I did not touch a drink again until the country went dry.

In 1919, the 18th Amendment was passed making it illegal to sell alcohol. This amendment was also known as “Prohibition.” It made me feel quite safe. I thought that everyone would buy as much liquor as they could afford and then drink it until it was gone. This meant it wouldn't make any difference if I did some drinking myself.

At that time, I didn't know that the government had a huge supply of alcohol that doctors could prescribe to our patients. I also didn't know that Prohibition would create bootleggers: People who made their own liquor and sold it illegally. I was wrong to think that alcohol would disappear from my life.

I drank moderately at first. But it didn't take long for me to drift back into my old habits.

Over the next few years, I became constantly afraid of two things. One was being unable to sleep, and the other was running out of liquor. I wasn't a rich man. I knew that if I did not stay sober enough to earn some money by working, I would run out of liquor. Most of the time, knowing this kept me from taking the morning drink that I craved so badly. Instead, I would take large doses of sedative medications to quiet my jitters.

Sometimes I would surrender to my morning craving and take a drink. Whenever I did this, I would be too drunk to work in just a few hours. If I got drunk in the morning, there was less chance I would bring home liquor in the evening. But if I didn't drink in the evening, I would spend all night tossing and turning and wake up in the morning with terrible jitters.

Over the next 15 years, I was smart enough to never go to work or see patients if I had been drinking. Sometimes I would hide out in members-only social clubs, or register at a hotel using a false name. But my friends usually found me, and I would go home if they promised not to judge or punish me.

If my wife was planning to go out in the afternoon, I would buy a large amount of liquor, bring it home secretly, and hide it around the house. In the coal bin, over doorways, over beams in the basement, and in cracks in the basement tile. I also used old trunks, chests, and containers to hide my liquor. I never used the water tank on the toilet because it seemed like too obvious a hiding spot. I found out later that my wife checked there often.

I used to put eight- or twelve-ounce bottles of alcohol in a fur- lined glove and toss it onto the back porch when the winter days got dark enough. The bootlegger I bought from would hide alcohol near my back steps so I could get it easily. Sometimes I would bring it in my pockets, but they were inspected at the hospital where I worked so that became too risky. I used to put it in four-ounce bottles and stick several in the tops of my socks.

I will not tell all of the stories of my hospital experiences. They would take up far too much space.

Worse and worse

As time went by, we saw our friends less and less. No one would invite us out because I would always get drunk. My wife never invited people to our home for the same reason. My fear of insomnia made me get drunk every night. But to get enough liquor for the next night, I had to stay sober during the day, at least until 4 p.m. This was my routine for about 17 years. It was a horrible nightmare: earning money, getting liquor, smuggling it home, getting drunk, morning jitters, taking large doses of sedatives to make it possible for me to earn more money, and so on. I used to promise my wife, my friends, and my children that I would stop drinking. Those promises never kept me sober a single day, even though I was very sincere when I made them.

If you're reading this and you want to try drinking only beer, here are my thoughts. When beer was made legal again, I thought that I was safe. I could drink all the beer I wanted. It was harmless; nobody ever got drunk on beer. So I filled my basement with it, with permission from my wife. Soon I was drinking at least a case and a half a day. I put on 30 pounds in about two months, looked like a pig, and was very short of breath. Eventually I realized that drinking beer made me so smelly, no one could tell what I had been drinking. So I began to drink straight alcohol in addition to beer. That went very badly, and ended the “beer experiment.”

The turning point

Around the time of the beer experiment, I met a new group of people. I was drawn to them because they seemed so healthy, happy, and comfortable in the world. When they talked, they never seemed shy or embarrassed. They were always at ease no matter where they were. I never felt that way myself.

More than any of this, they seemed to be happy. I was uncomfortable and nervous most of the time. My health was failing, and I felt completely miserable. I could tell these people had something I did not have. Something that might truly help me. I learned that it was something of a spiritual nature, which did not appeal to me very much. But I thought it probably wouldn't hurt me. I thought about this spiritual path over the next few years, but still got drunk every night. I read everything I could find, and talked to everyone who I thought knew anything about it.

My wife became deeply interested in this group, and it was her interest that drove mine. However, I never thought that this might be an answer to my liquor problem. I'll never know how my wife kept her faith and courage during all those years, but she did. If she had not, I know I would have been dead a long time ago. For some reason, we alcoholics seem to have the gift of picking out the world's finest partners. I cannot explain why they should have to live with the torture we inflict on them.

Around this time a lady called up my wife. It was a Saturday afternoon, and she said she wanted me to come over that evening to meet a friend of hers. The lady thought this friend might help me. It was the day before Mother's Day, and I had come home completely drunk. I was carrying a big potted plant that I set down on the table. Then I went upstairs and passed out. The next day this lady called again. I felt horribly hungover but wanted to be polite. So I said, “Let's go meet this friend,” and made my wife promise that we would not stay more than 15 minutes.

We entered her house at exactly 5 p.m. and it was 11:15 p.m. when we left.

I had a couple of shorter talks with this man in the days that followed, and I stopped drinking abruptly afterwards.

This dry spell lasted for about three weeks. Then I went to Atlantic City to attend a convention for work. I drank all the scotch they had on the train and bought several quarts on my way to the hotel. This was on Sunday. I got drunk that night, stayed sober on Monday until after dinner, and then got drunk again. I drank everything I could at the bar, and then went to my room to finish the job. Tuesday I started drinking in the morning, but tried to sober up by noon. I did not want to embarrass myself, so I checked out.

I bought some more liquor on the way to the train station. I had to wait quite a while for the train. I remember nothing from then on until I woke up at a friend's house, in a town near home. This friend called my wife. My wife sent the man I'd met on Mother's Day to get me. He came and got me home and to bed, gave me a few drinks that night, and one bottle of beer the next morning.

That was June 10, 1935, and that was my last drink.

As I write this, almost four years have passed. The question in your mind might be: “What did this man do or say that was different from what others had done or said?”

Remember that I had read a lot and talked to everyone who knew anything about the subject of alcoholism. But this man had experienced many years of serious drinking. He'd had all of the drunk person's experiences you could possibly imagine. And he had been cured by the very program I had been trying to use in my own life: the spiritual approach. He gave me information about the subject of alcoholism that was incredibly helpful. But more importantly, he was the first living human with whom I had ever talked who understood alcoholism from his own experiences. In other words, he spoke my language. He knew all the answers, and not because he had read about them. He had lived through them.

It is a most wonderful blessing to be relieved of the terrible curse of alcoholism. My health is good and I have regained my self-respect and the respect of my colleagues. My home life is happy and my business is as good as can be expected in these uncertain times. I spend a lot of my time teaching others what I learned.

I do this for four reasons:

1. Sense of duty.
2. It is a pleasure.
3. Because in doing this, I am paying my debt to the man who took time to pass it on to me.
4. Because every time I do it, I take out a little more insurance for myself against a possible relapse.

Unlike most of our group, I did not get over my craving for liquor during the first few years of abstinence. It was almost always with me. But I have never even considered actually drinking again. I used to get terribly upset when I saw my friends drink and I knew I could not. But I taught myself to believe that I was simply not allowed to drink. Long ago I had that privilege, but I had abused it so badly that it was taken away from me. So it doesn't do me any good to complain about it.

If you think you are an atheist, an agnostic, a skeptic, or have any other form of intellectual pride that keeps you from accepting what is in this book, I feel sorry for you. If you still think you are strong enough to beat your drinking problem alone, that's your business. But if you really and truly want to quit drinking alcohol forever, and sincerely feel that you need some help, we know that we have an answer for you.

It never fails, if you apply it with even half of the enthusiasm you apply to your drinking.

Your Higher Power will never let you down!