Sky Pilot
Since he first learned to walk, Gerry wanted to fly. Ran around the house, arms outstretched – making aeroplane noises. Unable to sit still in class, and learn his lessons, Gerry was the subject of many parent-teacher consultations – diagnosed with hyperactivity. Eventually everyone agreed – including Gerry – that his best possible hope for redemption – was to join the military who it was hoped would be able to instill some discipline.
Gerry chose to join up with the Navy, found himself in test pilot training. Gerry was in seventh heaven until the fateful day that he suffered a G-LOC or blackout. It meant a sad and sorry end to his aspirations.
Gerry took it badly at first, went back home and drowned his sorrows in drink. Encouraged to go out and socialize, Gerry ended up finding a sociable group who were heavily into cocaine.
Cocaine use got him out of the dumps long enough to think about looking for work.
Gerry became a technical writer, continued to use cocaine.
On internet he found communities who enjoyed playing video games – Gerry found the games almost like the challenge that test pilot training had been.
Except to go out and get cocaine, Gerry spent his time playing online video games.
If it had not been for his parents who supported him financially, made sure that he got enough food, Gerry could easily have starved.
It could have gone on for years that way, except that Melanie, who knew Gerry from school, unexpectedly returned to her hometown.
She took an interest in Gerry, until he admitted that he used cocaine.
As Gerry puts it – I couldn’t believe what she said, didn’t think that she would care, one way or the other. Told me I was wasting my life, told me to grow up, and get over not being a test pilot anymore.
Melanie got up as if to leave, and said that every morning she went walking around the park – if I had nothing better to do – I was welcome to join her.
So, early next morning, I made my way downtown and there was Melanie in the park.
I wasn’t long before I realized how unfit I’d got. Melanie said that if I wanted to play tennis she would book us a court at the weekend.
The walking and the tennis fitted into my life quite well – I needed something to do.
After a while I asked Melanie why she had come back to town.
Melanie said that she’d made a mistake, got pregnant, decided to have an abortion.
For a while she had thought that everything was fine, but had suddenly come down with a deep depression, was on some antidepressants. Hated taking the stuff, it made her feel quite strange. She would rather not be on them but was frightened that if she stopped, her depression would come back.
More than anything else I wanted to help Melanie get back to being her normal, happy self. Over the next few days I encouraged her to talk about her situation as we walked around the park.
One morning Melanie showed up with a happy grin – next thing you’ll be charging me by the hour Dr Gerry she said – I do think our walking and talking in the park has finally got me clear of all that guilt, and shame I was feeling – I’ve been off the medication now for over a week and there is no sign of my depression coming back.
I never thought about what it meant if Melanie got better until she told me one morning that she was so much better now that she was going back to her training.
I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.
That day I found that I had a real craving for cocaine – used up all my supply, had to get money from my parents to go out, get some more.
Never got to the park next morning – used cocaine instead.
Melanie’s final words to me were Gerry, if you are still using that stuff – please, do try and get off it.
In some ways she had been my lifeline. Now I felt like I was drifting away in my mind, back into into some vast unknown – like a sailor, lost at sea. I lived for the little hits of happiness that cocaine was giving me.
This could have gone on for years – except my parents pulled me up short. I had long since spent my savings, had no regular income, had been dependent on the folks for some time.
We gave you money to help out they said, but we can’t go on at this rate – it will send us broke. I got a bit angry – said it hadn’t been that much. This made my Dad sit down and reckon it up. I think that we were both shocked to realize that – they had in dribs and drabs given me over ten thousand dollars.
I wanted more coke, and parent’s money had become an issue – I was feeling so frustrated I took my car and sold it to a dealer that afternoon for whatever they would give me, and felt a sense of reprieve.
It wasn’t until that money ran out that I realized I had a problem – went to my parents, said I needed help. Dad was easy, said he’d pay for rehab. He said the best value for money looked like it would be a comprehensive program – at least they gave an estimated time for full recovery – didn’t use any drugs in the treatment.
I walked into that center feeling happy, although I was a bit strung out – feeling like at last, I was going to get my life back together – and under control.
