Against Medical Advice

She was 28, with a ton of miles on her already. She had bad teeth and a neck tattoo. She sat with her legs wide apart. The right one bouncing up and down.

I wanna get high. I wanna fuck. I wanna suck his dick. I wanna use a needle. I wanna get sweaty. And excited. And scared. And paranoid. I wanna steal shit. And drive around. And fight... I wanna punch shit.

You were doing good yesterday, what happened?

Gimme my shit! This isn’t a lock down facility. I can leave anytime I want.

That’s true

I’ll cause a fucking scene, I swear to god.

What’s your plan? Who’s going to pick you up?

My baby daddy.

You have a girl or boy?

A girl.

What’s her name?

Hope.

Who takes care of her?

His parents.

Do you get to see her?

Gimme my fucking shit!

The feeling will pass, Jessica. Give it a day.

I won’t make it an hour. I’m not ready.

You’ll never be ready. Whoever said you would be one day lied to you. You have to do it when you’re not ready. That’s how you beat drug addiction. That’s how you get the life you want. That’s how you get your daughter back.

She put her forearms on her knees, hunched over in her chair, and looked down at the floor. She rocked back and forth and made a low grunting noise. I resisted the urge to say anything else. She eventually looked up at me.

Get my shit or I’m calling the police.

I got her shit and she left. I discharged her from the system and had staff strip her bed and double scrub her room…

and 4 hours later we got another intake.