News (Media Awareness Project) - CN ON: Montfort To Take Over Detox Centre |
Title: | CN ON: Montfort To Take Over Detox Centre |
Published On: | 2004-09-17 |
Source: | Ottawa Citizen (CN ON) |
Fetched On: | 2008-08-21 22:56:23 |
MONTFORT TO TAKE OVER DETOX CENTRE
There has been much hand-wringing over the impending closing of the
Ottawa Detox Centre, where old vices, every day, are confronted in the
shadow of a nunnery, in the oldest part of town.
Nobody wants to deal with the flaming midday drunks, the tattooed,
sky-high junkies, the smelly cross-addicted winos -- not the police,
not the shelters, not the emergency wards of hospitals; not me, not
you.
In 1974, the Sisters of Charity and the Ottawa General Hospital took
them on, opening a detox centre in a former Murray Street liquor
store. It was meant as a first step: a place to dry out, get three
squares, find temporary clarity, get into a longer-term program. Many
a tortured family has been grateful since.
The digs were never pretty, but business was good. It grew to 26 beds
and had more than 3,000 admissions annually. Facilities for women were
added; counselling got more professional and, in 1985, the centre
moved into a 5,700-square-foot row building on Bruyere Street.
For a variety of reasons, principally a string of headaches brought on
by chronic underfunding, the Sisters of Charity Health Service decided
it could no longer operate the centre, formally called the Ottawa
Withdrawal Management Centre.
It wants out by Oct. 1.
During the last year or so, the Ministry of Health and Long-Term Care
has been searching for a new sponsoring hospital. It looks as though
it found one: the Montfort.
Gerald Savoie, the president and CEO of the Montfort Hospital,
confirmed yesterday the hospital is in the final stages of
negotiations to take over operation of the centre.
A new location in the Byward Market -- almost three times bigger than
the current set of row houses -- is being studied for relocation. No
one wants to yet say where the new site is.
"We've been working very, very hard to find a solution," said Mr.
Savoie. "We're coming in as a problem solver and a willing partner."
Mr. Savoie explained that the detox centre fits in with the Montfort's
strong mental health program, its current work with addictions and its
community outreach.
The plan is to keep the 21 staff members while lobbying to put the
endeavour on a more solid financial footing. Mr. Savoie does not want
to inherit the on-going money headache.
"Frankly, I don't know how they've been able to keep it together," Mr.
Savoie said of the tight financial picture.
Indeed, the centre cut the number of beds from 26 to 20 last year; six
managers were laid off. As a consequence, the number of refusals has
shot up to 1,500 a year.
Most of the admissions to the centre are men; the drug of choice is
usually alcohol. Generally, stays are from three to five days: 2,800
admissions a year, including 500 women.
If nothing else, the last six months have given the city pause to
actually think about the detox centre's importance to the addicted. It
is not simply a flop-house for rubbies, staff will tell you. Plenty of
middle-class people have begun their recovery there.
There have been letters of support from city councillors, MPPs,
physicians, a 4,100-name petition and a number of media briefings. The
health minister and the premier have had their in-boxes filled.
Virginia Hamilton is director of the centre. In her mid-50s, she is an
expressive woman, frequently using her hands to help convey a point
and often rolling about her office on her wheeled chair.
She has a wonderful story about Billy Buffett, one of Ottawa's most
majestic drunks, a man who came to be known as the "King of the
Jungle" for his stature and longevity in a hobo-land along the Rideau
River.
Mr. Buffett, who died in 1983, was in detox something like 253 times,
she estimated from memory.
He finally sobered up in 1974 and went on to create his own home, the
House of Welcome, for recovering alcoholics.
Ms. Hamilton said she remembered asking Mr. Buffett what finally
turned things around for him. " 'I can't explain it,' he told me, but
he said 'I know this much, if the door hadn't opened that last time, I
might never have made it.' "
It was a powerful message, she added. "You just never know if this
will be the time."
Mr. Savoie, meanwhile, said discussions are proceeding toward a
concrete plan by Oct. 1. If the Montfort needs to buy a little more
time, he's hoping the Sisters of Charity of Ottawa will extend the
deadline to allow an orderly transition.
It has to happen. Without a detox centre, the emergency wards of
hospitals will become a zoo; jails will get used as drunk tanks and
families will lose a lifeline.
You look at 13 men in suits at 24 Sussex Drive, just up the street,
staying up late one night to carve up $41 billion in health care
dollars, as though it were their personal treasure to plunder.
And the head is scratched.
Surely we can find enough money for this. There is a drunk on the
doorstep; there always is. Who else is going to let him in?
There has been much hand-wringing over the impending closing of the
Ottawa Detox Centre, where old vices, every day, are confronted in the
shadow of a nunnery, in the oldest part of town.
Nobody wants to deal with the flaming midday drunks, the tattooed,
sky-high junkies, the smelly cross-addicted winos -- not the police,
not the shelters, not the emergency wards of hospitals; not me, not
you.
In 1974, the Sisters of Charity and the Ottawa General Hospital took
them on, opening a detox centre in a former Murray Street liquor
store. It was meant as a first step: a place to dry out, get three
squares, find temporary clarity, get into a longer-term program. Many
a tortured family has been grateful since.
The digs were never pretty, but business was good. It grew to 26 beds
and had more than 3,000 admissions annually. Facilities for women were
added; counselling got more professional and, in 1985, the centre
moved into a 5,700-square-foot row building on Bruyere Street.
For a variety of reasons, principally a string of headaches brought on
by chronic underfunding, the Sisters of Charity Health Service decided
it could no longer operate the centre, formally called the Ottawa
Withdrawal Management Centre.
It wants out by Oct. 1.
During the last year or so, the Ministry of Health and Long-Term Care
has been searching for a new sponsoring hospital. It looks as though
it found one: the Montfort.
Gerald Savoie, the president and CEO of the Montfort Hospital,
confirmed yesterday the hospital is in the final stages of
negotiations to take over operation of the centre.
A new location in the Byward Market -- almost three times bigger than
the current set of row houses -- is being studied for relocation. No
one wants to yet say where the new site is.
"We've been working very, very hard to find a solution," said Mr.
Savoie. "We're coming in as a problem solver and a willing partner."
Mr. Savoie explained that the detox centre fits in with the Montfort's
strong mental health program, its current work with addictions and its
community outreach.
The plan is to keep the 21 staff members while lobbying to put the
endeavour on a more solid financial footing. Mr. Savoie does not want
to inherit the on-going money headache.
"Frankly, I don't know how they've been able to keep it together," Mr.
Savoie said of the tight financial picture.
Indeed, the centre cut the number of beds from 26 to 20 last year; six
managers were laid off. As a consequence, the number of refusals has
shot up to 1,500 a year.
Most of the admissions to the centre are men; the drug of choice is
usually alcohol. Generally, stays are from three to five days: 2,800
admissions a year, including 500 women.
If nothing else, the last six months have given the city pause to
actually think about the detox centre's importance to the addicted. It
is not simply a flop-house for rubbies, staff will tell you. Plenty of
middle-class people have begun their recovery there.
There have been letters of support from city councillors, MPPs,
physicians, a 4,100-name petition and a number of media briefings. The
health minister and the premier have had their in-boxes filled.
Virginia Hamilton is director of the centre. In her mid-50s, she is an
expressive woman, frequently using her hands to help convey a point
and often rolling about her office on her wheeled chair.
She has a wonderful story about Billy Buffett, one of Ottawa's most
majestic drunks, a man who came to be known as the "King of the
Jungle" for his stature and longevity in a hobo-land along the Rideau
River.
Mr. Buffett, who died in 1983, was in detox something like 253 times,
she estimated from memory.
He finally sobered up in 1974 and went on to create his own home, the
House of Welcome, for recovering alcoholics.
Ms. Hamilton said she remembered asking Mr. Buffett what finally
turned things around for him. " 'I can't explain it,' he told me, but
he said 'I know this much, if the door hadn't opened that last time, I
might never have made it.' "
It was a powerful message, she added. "You just never know if this
will be the time."
Mr. Savoie, meanwhile, said discussions are proceeding toward a
concrete plan by Oct. 1. If the Montfort needs to buy a little more
time, he's hoping the Sisters of Charity of Ottawa will extend the
deadline to allow an orderly transition.
It has to happen. Without a detox centre, the emergency wards of
hospitals will become a zoo; jails will get used as drunk tanks and
families will lose a lifeline.
You look at 13 men in suits at 24 Sussex Drive, just up the street,
staying up late one night to carve up $41 billion in health care
dollars, as though it were their personal treasure to plunder.
And the head is scratched.
Surely we can find enough money for this. There is a drunk on the
doorstep; there always is. Who else is going to let him in?
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