“We’re going to have to do something to help Bob,” Sherry said.
“Are you talking about with his alcohol problem?” I asked.
“Of course. He’s getting worse every day.”
We were watching from our table at Fido’s Courtyard as our friend Bob staggered up the beach, struggling against the wind.
“I have an idea that might work,” I told her. “I met a psychiatrist from Houston who is staying here for a year. Dr. Anderson specializes in alcohol control and perhaps he can help. I’ll talk to him.”
That afternoon I introduced Bob to the doctor and they began the new program immediately. The following morning Dr Anderson and I talked about the situation over coffee.
“Do you think you can help him?” I asked.
“I believe so,” the doctor said. “He recognizes he needs help and he’s seems willing to work on the problem. We’ll see how the treatment works.”
“What is the treatment?”
“The biggest part is that every time he gets drunk he has to report it to me the next day. It’s kind of like confession in church. Speaking about it makes the behavior harder to repeat.”
The next morning Bob came staggering up on the deck where Doctor Anderson and I were having breakfast.
“Doctor,” he said. “I’m shorry but I gotta report I was drunk last night.”
“For God’s sake, man,” the doctor replied. “You’re drunk right now!”
“Yeah, I know,” Bob said, “But this is the one I’m going to report tomorrow.”
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