Clapton_ The Autobiography - Eric Clapton [68]
If that gave me something to think about, then so did a letter I received from David in which he told me in no uncertain terms that he would be quite happy to turn us both in to the police if I wasn’t prepared to stop what I was doing to myself and, more important, to his daughter. His letter was quite ruthless, but compassionate at the same time. “I love you both so much,” he wrote, “that I cannot bear to see what you are doing to yourselves. For all that you can do and all you can have in your lives, please let me help you.” He finished off by saying, “I will probably never know how much courage it will take, dear Eric, but for your own sake, please do it.”
It was clear that he meant business, and I knew deep down that I was inflicting serious damage on an unsuspecting innocent, somebody I had no right to meddle with. I realized that I had to put the brakes on, if not for my sake, then for hers. Finally the light went on and I called him and said, “You’re right. We need help, but what can we do?” He then told me he had come across an extraordinary woman, Dr. Meg Patterson, a Scottish neurosurgeon who had worked for years in Hong Kong, where she had developed a method of treating opiate-withdrawal symptoms using a form of electrical acupuncture she called NeuroElectric Therapy. She had recently returned to Britain and set up a clinic on Harley Street with her husband, George. They had already had a meeting with David Harlech and put together a program for Alice and me.
I knew I had to go through with this. I had total faith in David’s reasoning and insight, and I realized that this was not a step he had taken lightly. We agreed to go for an interview with the Pattersons at their Harley Street home and, as usual, arrived stoned. I took to Meg straightaway. She was very charismatic, petite and attractive with auburn hair and a pretty face, and she had a motherly kind of personality, very loving and concerned. She struck me as a good person. Her stories of living and working in Hong Kong and China among the street addicts were fascinating, and she seemed very confident that she could help me. George was interesting, too, having spent a lot of time in Tibet getting to know the guerrillas who were fighting back against the Chinese.
Their cure was a form of acupuncture using an electrical stimulator made in China, which Meg had bought in Hong Kong. This took the form of a small black box, with wires radiating out of it attached to small clips holding tiny needles that were applied to various points within the contour of the ear. The treatment involved three hourlong sessions a day and would necessitate the Pattersons’ coming to live with us at Hurtwood for at least the first week. Cautiously, we agreed.
At first, things were very difficult. George was a committed Christian and came on quite strong about God and Christianity and Jesus, and I found this a little overwhelming because I felt so vulnerable. To a certain extent I felt he was taking advantage of my situation, so I was a little guarded around both of them. Though I had certainly looked at religion, I have always been resistant to doctrine, and any spirituality I had experienced thus far in my life had been much more abstract and not aligned with any recognized religion. For me, the most trustworthy vehicle for spirituality had always proven to be music. It cannot be manipulated, or politicized, and when it is, that becomes immediately obvious. But of course, I could not explain that to them back then, although I’m sure I tried, so I thought the best thing to do was to give it a try and see what would happen.
The first thing that Meg explained to us was that we were not allowed to touch any heroin from day one. This really did come as a shock, as I had somehow thought we would be weaned slowly off it. She set up her apparatus in the room we used as a den, next to our sitting room. The clips were put on my ears,