Two Beers Two Horses: Rehab Is for Quitters

By Keller Burnett

If you or anyone you love struggles with managing addiction, then this book may help you. Keller tried various ways to control his drinking, and ultimately began a journey that would help him stop, learn, and begin a solid recovery. It is a jungle when you search rehab online, and sometimes your doctor cannot help. Keller lived this experience and wants to share for anyone who feels stuck and does not know where to go. In a casual prose style, he will help you see the world of detox and rehab before you make a decision. You have the rest of your life to decide. Literally.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798385000777

Keller Burnett

Keller is a native of South Carolina, where he continues to live with wife, his 3 adult sons, and 2 grandchildren so far. He works in sales, and the family enjoys camping, canoeing, hunting, offshore fishing, and college football. He continues to be sober and grateful.

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Copyright © 2023 Keller Burnett.

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ISBN: 979-8-3850-0076-0 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-0077-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023910950

WestBow Press rev. date: 6/23/2023

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Judgment Day

Chapter 2 Thursday

Chapter 3 Night 1

Chapter 4 Ain’t no Big Shots or Little Shots

Chapter 5 Dry Drunk

Chapter 6 Two Beers

Chapter 7 Two Horses

Chapter 8 Otis and the Cab

Random Things That I Find Helpful

About the Author

1

JUDGMENT DAY

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He cannot picture life without alcohol. Some day he will be unable to imagine life either with alcohol or without it. Then he will know loneliness such as few do. He will be at the jumping-off place. He will wish for the end.

—Alcoholics Anonymous, Big Book, 4th edition

You won’t remember today, the nurse said to me as I protested the questions she was asking. She seemed at the same time both amused and compassionate; all the people working there were so kind and patient, but it was the same set of questions that they had been asking me all afternoon, seemingly every fifteen minutes, and during every interaction with the staff. We had been at it for several hours, and I just wanted a minute of respite, maybe a chance to walk outside or sit in a big chair and think. I felt a bond with the huge fireplace and hearth, surrounded by big chairs, when we came in. The drugs were working, even though I understood neither what they had given me nor why. The breathalyzer seemed to read .17, and I remember thinking that I had only had a couple of good beers at the house that morning. Hadn’t even gotten drunk. The vodka bottle was empty by design the day before.

On a scale of one to ten, rate the following: Are you craving alcohol? Do you want to harm yourself? Do you feel alone and desperate? Are you having trouble concentrating or difficulty sleeping? On and on and on it went. There was a method to their madness; they were measuring things that needed to be measured, only I had no idea how I answered the questions last time, so the repetition gave them a consensus of what was going on. I’d always had a very good memory, but there were too many questions asked too many times.

My best friend was probably back home by now, I remember thinking. Our