Magnificent Desolation_ The Long Journey Home From the Moon - Buzz Aldrin [80]
BUT WITHIN A few months of making a public statement in Washington, D.C., that I was a recovered alcoholic, I began drinking again.
Eventually, Dr. Flinn recommended that I enter a twenty-eight-day period of detox and rehab at St. John’s Hospital, in Santa Monica, since there was no such program at the UCLA facility where Flinn practiced. While at St. John’s, I met Dr. Joe Takamine, a lean, sandy-haired doctor of internal medicine who later became an addiction specialist in California, well known for treating a number of Hollywood celebrities. Unfortunately, I didn’t take this program seriously, and after a few days, I simply walked out of the hospital and walked all the way home. The rooms were not locked, so I just left.
After another round of low times, Dr. Flinn arranged for me to be admitted a second time to St. John’s to try the program again. This time I stuck it out. Although it was not a mandatory part of the program, I attended several weekly meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous that were held at St. John’s.
While I was there, Dr. Takamine cautioned me, “You may not be responsible for your disease, but you sure should be responsible for your recovery—and that is your choice. There is only one real reason for relapse,” Dr. Takamine told me. “You want to … and you choose to do so.” I couldn’t disagree with him, but I also couldn’t find within myself the power to say no to a drink.
Because of my military background, the St. John’s counselors recommended that I meet retired Navy admiral Bud Scoles, a leader in the West Los Angeles Alcoholics Anonymous group. I hit it off immediately with Bud, and he not only encouraged me to attend AA meetings, but offered to become my first Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor. The sponsor’s role could take many forms: friend, mentor, motivator, counselor, or simply someone to check up on you to make sure that you weren’t sprawled out alone in a drunken stupor. At one time or another, Bud served in all of those capacities for me.
Bud got me going to more meetings than I could count. A typical week included a Wednesday noon stag meeting at Uncle John’s Deli in Santa Monica. Thursday nights found us at an AA workshop, followed by a speaker, at the Brentwood Presbyterian Church on San Vicente. Friday nights I attended an AA meeting at St. Augustine’s church on Fourth Street. Saturday nights I went to an AA meeting at the Senior Citizens’ Center on Ocean Avenue. A Sunday night stag meeting met after supper at a different person’s home each week. This meeting was not open to general attendance, but included Bud, Bob Palmer—who would later become my second sponsor—Dick Boolootian, a Ph.D. who taught at a local university two high-profile lawyers, and me. On Monday nights I attended meetings at Ohio Avenue in West LA. Bud’s plan, which I later learned is basic Alcoholics Anonymous procedure, was for me to attend ninety meetings in ninety days. At each meeting there were men and women (except at the stag meetings) who were somewhere along in the process of staying sober. Some had been sober for only a few days, others a few years, still others for decades. The striking characteristic at almost all of the meetings was the encouragement and positive reinforcement we all gave to each other. The Alcoholics Anonymous groups truly became like a church or a family for many people, myself included.
I responded well to the AA programs, but I still struggled in my attempts to achieve and maintain sobriety Since my mentor Bud Scoles was a Navy guy, he also frequented the Navy facility in Long Beach, where Captain Joseph Pursch, the psychiatrist, served as director of the Naval Regional Medical Center. The Navy was quite involved in alcoholic recovery programs at that time, and Dr. Pursch was widely regarded as the foremost authority in the field of alcoholism who had never been