STREETWISE VENDOR A. ALLEN SHARES HIS STORY OF FACING MENTAL ILLNESS AND THE CARE HE RECEIVED by A. Allen
The day I felt as though I could have almost lost my mind was an average day dealing with everyday problems, including my drug and alcohol addictions; only this day, I decided enough was enough concerning heroin. I was tired of chasing a fix for heroin, day in, day out. I said to myself, “Maybe I’ll be better off doing like most of my friends: getting on the methadone program.” The program was right around the corner from the shelter where I was staying on the Far South Side. I had to see one of its doctors before I could get on the methadone program. I was excited and eager to let the doctor know I was sick of being sick and tired, as civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer said. The shelter had encouraged us to sign up for ID cards and to become organ donors. I told the doctor I suspected they just wanted our body parts. He was writing the whole time, and when the interview was over, he asked me to step out into the hallway and have a seat. After sitting in the hallway for 30 to 45 minutes, he called me back into his office and very seriously suggested that I stand outside his office with this brown 8 ½ by 11 envelope, which to me was kinda thick and heavy. He advised me to stay until the ambulance came and then he asked me, did I understand his instructions. I told him yes, and then he suggested once again not to leave until the ambulance got there. I said OK. After a while, I started to hear the ambulance siren getting closer and closer. I started thinking, “Why am I waiting for an ambulance?” I could hear it was very close, maybe even the next block.
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I decided very quickly to move from the office. I took off the red jacket I had been wearing and blended in with the other patients. Sure enough, the doctor came out looking for me, then he and the ambulance crew finally gave up. I thought to myself, “What is really going on?” And then I said to myself, “The only way to find out is to open the envelope.” When I got to a well-lit, secluded area about two blocks away, I sat down and began to read the letters in the envelope. The doctor had written, “I am a licensed psychologist, and I am recommending you take this man, A. Allen, into custody for psychological evaluation – even if it is against his will.” When I read this, I was blown away. There was a lot more written, but the part I remember is, “even if it is against his will.” Maybe 18 months later, I experienced what it is like to be willing to go, because once again during my drug and alcohol career, I found myself at the turning point of being sick and tired of being sick and tired. I was coming up on my third year of being homeless. It was October and I began to think, “You need to make some moves before it gets cold because when it gets cold, everything gets harder.” My plan was to check myself into Jackson Park Hospital’s mental health ward for drug and alcohol detox. According to plan, I got as high as I could all weekend long and then checked into rehabilitation late Sunday night. They kept me on observation until about 3 p.m. Monday, then informed me they had no available beds and recommended I go to Michael Reese Hospital. Mind you, I had it all planned, and Michael Reese was not part of my plan. Nevertheless, the show of recovery must go on. I took a CTA bus to Michael Reese.
