I had everything a twenty-two year old could want. I was in college, had a great job, a beautiful girlfriend, and friends I could rely on.  Life was great. I had been around drugs and alcohol my whole life and using with friends and in social settings was normal. But when I found opiates, it didn’t take long for everything to spiral out of control. Within a few months, I was using alone and my life had fallen apart. 

But then there was a moment of hope, when the pain was too much and I wanted to stop living this way. I wanted to get help. I remember calling detox after detox and all of them said, “Sorry,  we cannot take you. Hemophilia is not something we are familiar with here and we cannot let you administer your medicine while here.” Call after call, it was always the same answer: no. The barrier to a better life was not my willingness, but rather my hemophilia. I remember being shocked and angry, but my hope for the future was gone and I went back to using. 

One time a facility told me that they could take me. I checked in, put on a hospital gown, and was asked to sit patiently by the front door while they consulted the doctor. Every few minutes the door would open and the freezing cold wind would run up my back like an icicle. But I wanted to be there. I wanted to get help. Eventually, I was told that they couldn’t take me because of my bleeding disorder and I had to leave. I used that night. 

This battle for help lasted for years. Only two facilities in the entire state would accept me. Both were hospitals that treated people with serious medical conditions in addition to their substance use and they always seemed to be fully booked. But I didn’t need to be in a hospital for my hemophilia. That was under control. I just needed help getting clean. But all of the other facilities refused to help me.

The turning point for me was a week spent in an emergency room (ER). I had tried to go to ERs in the past and was just sent home. But this time the staff decided to keep me for five days, and I was able to start my recovery. Even though I should have been able to get access to a treatment facility like everyone else, I am so grateful that the ER gave me this opportunity. That was over four years ago, and I have been getting better ever since. 

Over the years as I tried to get help with my addiction, I became numb to these denials. It really wasn’t until I finally did get clean that I realized how unfair it was for them to deny me access because of my bleeding disorder. These windows of hope, where there is an opportunity to really turn your life around, come and go for people who struggle with addiction. When these moments appear, it is so important to open doors for these people, not shut them.

My hope is to spread awareness about how devastating these denials are for people with substance use disorders. It is to let everyone know that mental health and addiction does not discriminate and neither should the places that are supposed to help us. I am proud of the work we are doing at BD SUMHAC because when these windows open for people like me, facilities need to nurture that hope, not destroy it.