A young OB-GYN backs into recovery like a sports car at a stoplight, armed with medical degrees and a fortress of denial. He masks anxiety with sedatives and amphetamines, steals patient pills, and treats his addiction like a manageable inconvenience. When his wife pulls the fire alarm, he bounces through three private clinics, disrupts early meetings, and plays the arrogant expert—“teaching the teachers” while his body wastes to 118 pounds.
A blacked-out phone prescription to a bleeding patient finally cracks his armor. Desperate to save his license, he checks into a federal narcotics hospital, trades his tweed jackets for gray stripes, and gets number 69446. In the detox ward, he finally opens the Big Book, confronts his contempt prior to investigation, and hits the real bottom. Surrender isn’t a single moment but a five-year grind through sewage plants and shaky meetings
. He learns AA isn’t for the befogged, but for the broken who finally stop fighting the current.
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