I made it to the surface

In 1965, I was locked up in a psych unit in the naval hospital in Charleston, South Carolina after a long drinking bout. A psychiatrist told me that I was an alcoholic and that he could not help me, but he was aware of an organization that could. He gave me the address of the General Service Office (GSO) in New York with a strong suggestion that I write to them and ask for help. So I did. Sixteen days later, a gentleman from AA came to see me in the locked ward. He shared his experience, strength and hope with me, and then said he’d talk to the doctor so I could attend AA meetings under his care. From that date this long, wonderful journey of sobriety began for me—all over the world.