While working on a construction site with some AA buddies, he had a close call he won’t soon forget
A few years back, my 10-year AA anniversary was approaching. At that time, I was working a good program, going to my regular meetings and my home group. I touched base with my sponsor and worked with a few new guys. I was even chairing a weekly meeting.
Things were going well for me financially. I was working full-time as a carpenter and doing jobs on the side for cash. My personal life was AOK on all fronts. I had a good relationship with my wife. All three children were doing well. Life was good and sobriety was easy.
At a Saturday meeting a few days before my actual anniversary, my sponsor tried to give me my 10-year coin. I joked that I hadn’t earned it yet. “I feel strong, but you never know,” I said. We agreed to wait until the Tuesday night meeting for the coin ceremony.
I left the meeting and headed to a jobsite. I was being paid as a journeyman carpenter, but they just wanted me to help clear out a second floor room and remove the windows. I was working for a friend who’s in AA and three men on the four-man crew were all in the program as well. Great! What could go wrong?
I was in the second-floor bedroom tossing the debris onto a tarp below. The guys were then loading it into a truck to haul away. The previous resident of the room had died of cancer a few months earlier. A lot of her stuff was still there and the family just wanted it gone.
As I was about to complete the work, I picked up a sewing box and it made a funny rattle. Curious, I opened the box. There were about a dozen pill bottles inside. The first one I looked at was hydrocodone. It was nearly full. The next one I looked at was oxycodone, also nearly full.
I instantly thought about my sore back and my bad knees. If I went to my doctor, she would doubtlessly prescribe just this sort of medication. These pills were pain medications, not drugs, I thought. I dropped the bottle of oxycodone into my front pocket. Right as I looked back into the sewing box, I was startled by a shout.
“How much more?” Danny yelled. He was getting impatient. That was enough to bring me back to myself. “I’m about done,” I yelled back. “Just one more bag. I’ll carry it down.”
I put the pills from my pocket back into the sewing box. I put the sewing box, along with all its pills, into a black garbage bag. I gathered up a few old cardboard game boxes and some abandoned shirts and several old packs of playing cards and threw them into the bag. I tied the top of the bag, carried it down the ladder and threw it onto the truck. I watched the truck go down the alley and turn left, out of sight.
I don’t know why I chose to put the pills into my pocket. And I don’t know why I changed my mind and threw them out. I guess the only thing I really know is that this is a disease—and it’s unpredictable. So glad I’m in AA. I made it through that day and every day since. Now I just need to focus on today.