HERE’S TO YOUR HEALTH
This week’s HTYH is a continuation of Sandy B’s story who was a USMC pilot before becoming a credit union lobbyist in Washington D.C…I graduated from flight school, earned my wings and was transferred to Korea, but the war ended. I savored every moment of being part of a fighter squadron. We had our own table at the officer’s club and we didn’t even have to order our drinks, the Colonel ordered them. He’d say, “Give my boys a round.” They drank fast enough that I didn’t have to order extra drinks; it was wonderful. About halfway through my first tour a major called me aside and said, “You’re one of the best pilots in our squadron and in a couple of years I’ll have my own squadron and I would like you to be a part of it.” I was a lieutenant then and the major made me feel like a million dollars. Then he said, “But I wouldn’t let you drink alcohol!” I couldn’t understand where he was coming from because we frequently drank and partied together? It wasn’t until years later, after joining Alcoholics Anonymous that I realized my alcoholic drinking pattern scared heavy drinkers? There’s something about the way chronic alcoholics drink; our drinking is more intense, frightening and insane than regular drinkers.
I paid little or no attention to what the major said and went on with my flying and drinking career and my wife and I had 6 children in rapid succession. I became a flight instructor and went to several specialized schools the last of which was photo school. The last mission I performed on active duty was a reconnaissance mission during the Cuban missile crisis. People on the outside looking in thought I was doing great. They said, “Look at this guy, he’s got it all. Six kids, a great career and he’s been promoted to captain; isn’t his life wonderful?” What the on-lookers couldn’t see was that alcohol and alcoholism was about to take total control of me. I was beginning to experience withdrawal symptoms when I was in the airplane. I would suddenly start shaking, sweating and I couldn’t see very well. I began carrying on strange conversations with imaginary others and I was all by myself. I began to scare myself and frequently said, “This nut is going to get us killed!” I continued on like that for about another year but the symptoms progressed. I couldn’t drink while I was flying, but I could not; not-drink without having withdrawals. My body had to have alcohol or it sweated, shook and imagined horrible things. And worst of all, I was having too many close calls. I finally surrendered and went to the doctor. I said, “I’m having these weird symptoms in the plane.” The doctor said, “Like what?” I told him and he got suddenly silent and became quite concerned about the safety of the airplane. He wasn’t concerned about me, but he seemed concerned that I might perhaps wreck a million dollar airplane.
That doctor sent me to Pensacola, FL to see a flight surgeon, but he couldn’t arrive at a diagnosis because at that time there was no such thing as alcoholism in the Navy. There were no alcohol treatment facilities, nor did anybody, medical or otherwise, know anything about the malady of chronic alcoholism. When an alcoholic pilot came to see them, he was diagnosed and treated for another disorder or malady that was treatable. They observed me for four-weeks at Pensacola. I talked with medical specialists and psychiatrists who seemed confounded by the nature of my illness. My eyes were bloodshot, I was depressed, shaking, sweating and wreaked of alcohol but they couldn’t figure out my problem. At last the base psychiatrist came up with a diagnosis: “I had a latent childhood fear of flying that manifested itself after 14 years of intense training and flying.” To be continued…
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