It wasn’t until the spring of 2012 that I discovered that Linda had become an increasingly self-abusive, though quiet, alcoholic. One night I heard whimpers outside my apartment. I got out of bed to investigate. I opened my door to find Linda face down in the hallway in only her bathrobe, bloodied. She smelled awful.

I immediately rolled her onto her side. She was non-responsive but she had bounding pulses. I ran back into my apartment to grab my stethoscope and my phone. She had good breath sounds but was not responding to my forceful sternal rubs.

Finally I recognized that awful smell: my alcoholic patients. I dialed 911. While EMS was en route, she became more responsive. When they arrived, we took a look around her apartment. It was beautifully decorated – like the home of a real adult. But there was also a broken wine bottle on the kitchen floor and blood everywhere. I tracked the blood back to her bathroom. Worried about an overdose, I opened the medicine cabinet – no prescription medications. I was relieved.

It was weeks before I saw her again. When I did, she had a cane. I could hardly believe it: an attractive 40-something-year-old woman, making do with a cane.

“Hi doctor. I’m back,” she said.

“Are you ok?” I asked.

“Yes. And I have you to thank. If you hadn’t found me so soon, my hematoma probably would have been inoperable, they told me.”

She had drunken herself into an accidental traumatic intracranial bleed. She had gone to the OR and had been recovering in physical therapy for weeks.

“I’m never going to drink again. I’m done.”

I was stunned but I didn’t let on. I told her I was glad to have helped her in any small way. After never really helping an alcoholic patient, I was proud of myself. Maybe I finally had.

The doorman later told me that she had been drinking for years – especially after losing custody of Natalie. Linda had called 911 for herself many times when she had gotten too drunk. Lately, things had been escalating. The doorman said that delivery men would bring her booze to her apartment. When they refused because she ordered too much, she called another store. I had never noticed. I’d always assumed she had many meals delivered, like half the city.