The Exotic Dancer

 (originally entitled 'The Young Stripper.' The late 80's before P.C.)

From the moment I spotted her, something about her just did not fit in with our usual crowd at the detox. She looked, well, like a model, one that had come upon hard times that is.  My guess was that she either had been using cocaine and/or heroin, (later my guess would be confirmed after reading her chart - both).  Most of the patients had multiple detoxes under their belts.  If you averaged out the number of stays amongst the 28 patients that we held, usually the number would run between 10-20 stays per person.

 She was young, nineteen I learned later that afternoon, and this was her first detox.   Her name was Melissa and she had grown up in a wealthy, affluent suburb of Boston.   After I checked in with the patients that I had been working with throughout the week, I decided to sit with her and listen to her story.

 Melissa had attended a private high school in Boston and her father, a prominent Boston Physician, wanted her to go to an Ivy League School for either pre-law or pre-med.  She was not interested in either however.  Her passion was to found in the dramatic arts.  As she expressed to me, the stage was everything to her.  It made her feel alive and one with the world.

This caused great tension in her home as she finished her senior year in high school.  Her mother was constantly caught between she and her father.  She had applied to a University in New York for the Dramatic Arts and after receiving mail of her acceptance, was determined to attend.  This increased the tension in the house with her father stating that he would not financially support her endeavor what-so-ever.

She told him that was fine by her.  She had a half scholarship and would just get a part-time job once she was there for the remainder.

This is where the trouble began however.

Once she had settled into College that fall, she began to look for work.  This proved not to be as easy as she had initially thought.  After a month or so of looking with no luck, she began to get panicky.  Her mother was sending her money behind her father’s back; this still did not cover all her expenses however.

 Then one day she happened to overhear a few of her new aspiring actress friends talking about dancing to help pay the bills.  When she questioned them further, she realized that they were talking about exotic dancing, stripping.  At first she was mortified but when they told her the type of money they were making, this faded away rather quickly with some rationalization on her part.

Unfortunately, like many women that initially enter the dancing profession, (I know some will question my choice of calling it a profession), she began to get caught up in the after-work lifestyle.  She frowned upon having sexual relations with the customers which several of the ‘dancers’ did; partying with them was o.k. to make additional money.

For Melissa it began innocently enough, (or so she thought), a couple of lines, a couple of drinks, that should help in keeping them coming back.  She told me how she loved the attention of the men that watched her dance: she was in control, (or so she thought she later stated to me).  These men were so different from her father.  He was always criticizing her, always questioning her judgment.  She felt like she could never do anything right in his eyes.  Although these men looked at her lustily, it was positive attention in her eyes.

The lifestyle began to catch up with her.  After several months of dancing she was finding it more difficult to get up in the morning for classes after late night partying.

Her studies began to suffer and the calls from her mother trying to persuade her to come home and re-think her future were beginning to wear on her.  She understood without being told that her father was pressuring her mother to make these calls.

 The stress and strain of school, dancing and partying at night, and the family issues were beginning to wear her down.  At this point she began to snort heroin...  When I asked her why heroin, she told me that people had told her that when you use heroin, you haven’t a care in the world, well, except getting more heroin that is.

She told me that she realized that booting heroin would be the next step in her addiction and she wanted to put the brakes on before hitting that level.  She had taken a leave of absence from school and would live with a couple of girlfriends from High School while trying to put her life back together.  She entertained thoughts of returning to college after obtaining some sobriety time.

The only person that knew she was at the detox was her mother, (or so she thought).  I was working a Saturday night when there was a knock at our front door.  It was a couple in their late forties.  As I let them in the man turned to me and stated, “I am Doctor such-and-such, from the xyz hospital in Boston, and I demand that you bring my daughter Melissa out to me now!”

I looked at him directly and said, “Well, first of all, this isn’t xyz hospital in Boston. Secondly, all the people admitted here have to be of legal age to make the decision to be here. Last but not least, it’s their choice if they want to see or not see someone.”

‘Therefore, before you further make an ass of yourself with your condescending attitude and bravado, I suggest you calm down and have a seat.  Another outburst and I will have the police here in less than two minutes to escort you out.’ 

I looked at his wife whom was crying at this point then back to him. ‘If your daughter is here, I will have to ask her first if she wants to see you.’  He was about to speak and before he could do so, I spoke, ‘This is not a two way dialogue, think of it as a lecture, you are a guest in my house right now and my rules apply, not yours, understand?’

He gave me a slight head-nod while gritting his teeth.

I left them at the front desk and entered the main door of the unit to find Melissa.  She had been near a window that allowed her to hear the whole conversation that we had been having by the front door.  “What should I do”, she asked me.  “Well, you may as well confront him now and get it over with.  Besides, I will be right by your side and once the ‘chat’ is over, they will be leaving.”  “Just don’t leave me alone with him to talk, O.K.?”  “O.K.,” I replied back to her.

I brought her out to meet them, immediately she went to her mother and hugged her.  She then turned towards to her father and gave him a downward eye nod.  The father looked at me and asked for a room to meet with his daughter alone.  I told him that Melissa did not want that.  His affect began to grow angry, I reminded him that he was a guest in my house and to remember my previous offer to call the police.

He began by telling her he knew this would happen, if she had only listened to him, she wouldn’t be in her current predicament.  She stood there eye-to-eye with him.  When he finished, she started to speak. If you had really cared about me and not your God-damn image, you might have supported me in whatever endeavor I chose.  Yes, this predicament is of my own making, and you know what, the solution will also be of my own making also, not yours!  The father went on to tell her how he gave her everything a girl could possibly want.  When he finished, she said, yes everything, except your time and your understanding, but then again, I guess you save that for your patients huh? Then she went on to wrap up the conversation by saying, “You know what, I really don’t care how my present situation has affected you and your image; I do feel horrible by how it has affected Mom though.”

Melissa began to turn away but not before doing so, she told her mother the visiting hour times and that she would prefer next time if she came alone.  She then went through the main doors back into the detox unit.

The father went storming out of the detox while the mother stayed behind with me.  She asked me, “How is Melissa doing?”  I told her, “so far, so good.”  The easy part is the physical detox , the difficult part for Melissa will be to change the thinking and patterns of behavior that has made it seem o.k. to “use” as a solution for life’s issues.

A car horn outside started to blare several times.  Melissa’s mother said, “I better be going or there will be a price to pay.”  I told her, “Take It Easy, call me if you would like updates.”  She gave me a smile of resignation and said, “Thank You,” then walked down the stairs and out the door to the waiting car.

Melissa decided to go to a half-way house rather than move in with friends from high school.  She was determined and motivated to get back to life on a healthy track.

(Such as Irvin Yalom did in his book “Love’s Executioner,’ I have changed pieces in order to maintain anonymity)