Intervention worker wants more detox beds for Montreal homeless

John Tessier, an intervention worker at Montreal’s Open Door shelter, wants to see more medical detox beds being made available to Inuit on the streets without long waiting periods.

Tessier’s comments are spurred by the death of Connie Kadlutsiak, who died of liver failure at the beginning of January.

She had asked him to help her get into detox and rehab at least three times over the years, he said. But they could never get her in, Tessier said.

A regular at the Open Door, Kadlutsiak came to Tessier, sometimes in tears, ready to take that first step to free herself from alcohol’s grip.

Kadlutsiak, who was from Igloolik, had been living in Montreal for over a decade. She was known at the shelter for making bannock with cranberries. Friends who knew her said she liked to make people laugh but also stood her ground in a tough environment on the streets.

She is just one of the people Tessier said he tried to get into a Montreal hospital for medical detox—a necessary step for heavy drinkers before rehab.

“It was just too cumbersome,” Tessier said of the process that can sometimes take three weeks.

“She came and asked several times, but maybe by then she was feeling better or maybe we couldn’t find her after, but she came to us begging to take her to detox. No one would take her in immediately because she drank too much.”

Difficult for homeless to access

Tessier said rehab and detox programs in Montreal, for the most part, are not made for the people who need it most—those who are homeless and always living at rock bottom.

“When people who have already lost it all come to you and say I drink a lot, I want detox, please give me a chance, they are very serious at that moment. It’s a small window of opportunity. You have to catch people when they have what we call ‘the gift of desperation,’” Tessier said.

Tessier knows this because four years ago he was an addict.

“When you’re living on the streets you become resilient, tough, so the gift of desperation becomes few and far between.”

Evaluation appointments and the waiting period between asking for a first appointment and actually getting accepted into a detox program can be discouraging for those living on the streets who had a brief moment of clarity.

“By that time, they’ll go panhandle, get a beer, and feel better again,” Tessier said.

In the last three weeks, he has driven four people to a crisis centre, two to rehab, one from prison to detox, and sat in two court proceedings for clients at the Open Door. Most of these clients were Inuit, he said.

“They were all alcohol-related—it’s horrible,” Tessier said.

“When someone so tough and resilient comes to you in tears it’s heartbreaking.”

Not enough beds?

According to Tessier, Montreal needs more detox beds so the waiting period can be shorter.

The problem is that rehabilitation centres will not accept patients who drink more than two tall cans a day, Tessier said. If you drink too much, withdrawal symptoms are a risk. Those patients have to go into medical detox at the hospitals where they have access to staff and medication.

However, hospitals will only accept patients into detox if they are already having withdrawal symptoms. But going into withdrawal on the streets is hard, Tessier said.

The workers at the Open Door found one francophone rehab centre that will admit people who drink a lot and will bring those who might go into withdrawal to the hospital for detox. But the problem with that option is that most Inuit Tessier works with don’t speak French.

The only solution Tessier sees for Inuit struggling with alcoholism on the streets of Montreal is for the hospitals to get more detox beds and set aside a few of them just for the homeless.

He thinks the hospitals should lower their admittance requirements for those who are homeless—let them in quicker, give them priority.

“If you have 10 beds, keep three for the homeless,” Tessier said.

“I guarantee they will always be filled.”