How To Detox Yourself from Alcohol

By Soroya Bacchus, M.D.

If you've decided to quit drinking, that's great-but you don't want to stop cold turkey. Detoxification from alcohol has more complications from withdrawal than any other drug, and the death rate for alcohol withdrawal is between five and eight percent. In How to Detox Yourself from Alcohol, you'll learn how addiction starts in the first place, the risks of detox, and how to safely quit drinking. Soroya Bacchus, M.D., board-certified in psychiatry with subspecialization certifications in addiction medicine and psychosomatic medicine, helps you: • understand what alcohol does to your body; • recognize the effects of alcohol that can't be reversed; • determine whether you have a problem with alcohol consumption; • decide whether you are a good candidate for self-detox; and • respond to unforeseen problems as you seek to stop drinking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098340827

Book preview

Author

INTRODUCTION

Hello. My name is Dr. Soroya Bacchus. I can help you quit drinking.

I'm a board-certified psychiatrist specializing in addiction. I'm trained in psychosomatic medicine, which means I study the interaction of the mind and body in relation to the onset, process, and progression of psychological and emotional disorders. I take a holistic approach to addiction treatment. When you walk into my office, I assess the physical, psychological, social, and environmental factors that contribute to your health and wellness. I look at the big picture and design a course of therapy tailor-made to meet your personal needs.

I'm writing this book because I realize there are thousands of people out there who want to quit drinking but don't know about medically assisted self-detox. Did you know about it before you read the cover of this book? If you didn't, I want to help you. I'll start by telling you a story about a patient who came to see me one Thursday afternoon. I'll call her Lisa.

Lisa was twenty years old. She sat on my office couch like a nervous bird. She was thin and pale, and she didn't know what to do with her hands. Wispy brown curls framed bright, brown eyes. We dispensed with the initial small talk and got down to business.

What brings you to see me, Lisa? I asked.

My mom, she replied. I just got out of the hospital. She fidgeted, shifted on the couch, looked out the window, and then down at the floor.

I see. And what were you in the hospital for? I knew the answer already, but I wanted to hear it from her.

Well, my mom came home and found me lying on her kitchen floor having some kind of a seizure or whatever.

Okay. How long were you in the hospital?

She paused and looked out the window again. She was having trouble making eye contact with me. I think it was four days. Maybe six. So, like a week, I guess?

Do you remember what day you went in?

I don't know. Probably Tuesday because sometimes I do laundry there on Tuesday. Except when I do it on the weekend. Or go over for dinner, which is Saturday. My mom knows. I think. Yes, it was probably last Wednesday when I went in.

Okay. I pretended to write that information down in her file. Have you had seizures before?

"Yes. No. Well, maybe. I'm not sure; I think I did two years ago.

When you were in high school?

Yeah, maybe. But I was thinking about college. I almost applied to Stanford.

Have you seen a psychiatrist before?

Yes.

What medications have you taken in the past?

I can't remember. A lot.

Are you having any symptoms you want to focus on? Is there something in particular you need my help with?

I guess sometimes I don't sleep well. That's not like a symptom, though. Is it? Nothing major, no. No symptoms.

Then why are you here?

Because of my mom. She wanted me to come. She told me I had an appointment with a therapist. She dropped me off.

Do you know I'm an addiction doctor?

She told me something like that, yeah.

So are you having problems with addiction?

That's what she thinks. She wants me to stay sober and thinks you can help me. She thinks I drink too much.

So we're talking about alcohol, here?

I guess so.

Do you think you have a problem with alcohol?

Not really. I quit before.

Do you think there's anything wrong with how you're thinking, feeling, or behaving right now?

To be honest?

Yes.

Not at all. I'm fine.

I was floored.

As the conversation went on, it became obvious she had serious trouble with her memory. She couldn't think clearly or put together coherent sentences. She was unable to provide me anything meaningful about her personal history. Basic biographical information seemed unavailable to her. And worse, it didn't seem to bother her. She didn't realize her thinking and memory were bad. She talked in circles. Living with her boyfriend—or maybe they'd broken up—just roommates for now. Not working—for now. Trying to find her way. Not sure when her last job was. Not sure how much she drank. Knew she'd quit once or twice—couldn't remember exactly. No clear idea when she started drinking initially— maybe age fifteen, but maybe sixteen. Or was it that time when she was thirteen?

She couldn't tell me if she'd ever had blackouts, seizures, or problems with drugs other than alcohol.

I looked at her file and previewed, in my mind, the patient notes I knew I'd make later. Lisa. Twenty. Fried. Poor memory following seizures. Lack of insight. Conversation disconnected from immediate surroundings. Unaware of situation. Probable withdrawal-related Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome.

I flashed back to medical school. Lisa could have been a case study for Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome (WKS). She was right out of a textbook. WKS—which I'll address in detail in chapter 1—begins with eye-movement disturbances and the inability to walk. I didn't know for sure, but I formed a logical narrative to account for the girl sitting in front of me: Lisa had probably been on a binge two weekends prior, hit bottom, decided to dry out for a few days, started feeling bad, and then ended up at her parent's house out of instinct.

That's when the WKS hit. She was lucky her mom came home and found her. Lisa had finished her detox while she was in the hospital, most likely, but the damage was done.

The evidence was plain to see. WKS is a dangerous potential side effect of alcohol detox most people don't know about.

Approximately 80 percent of people who develop WKS are treated and survive. They survive, but they develop persistent amnesia. The amnesia is caused by the destruction of brain-cell connectivity in the thalamus and frontal lobe. The result is poor memory, poor attention, and lifelong impairment in the ability to learn new information and skills.

I prescribed something to help her sleep, made an appointment for the next week, but had a feeling I'd never see her again. On my drive home, I started to get angry. This poor girl, she probably had sixty years of suffering ahead of her.