It took Shanna Whan a long time to realize there was a problem.
For years, he repeated a mantra to tell himself that his relationship with alcohol was okay.
“It’s okay; I’m not an alcoholic, I’m Australian,” she remembers thinking.
Now, she feels different.
“[I’d been raised with] all that recycled, horribly overused stuff that makes alcohol addiction seem normal rather than horrible,” he said.
“So I never really thought of myself as someone who was addicted to alcohol because I was working and I was successful.”
Shanna lives in North West New South Wales and the remote location made socializing even more important for human connection.
But often, this would focus on events that encouraged alcohol consumption.
Shanna Whan says people can still feel very uncomfortable when dealing with someone who doesn’t drink. (Promoted by Shanna Whan)
Her drinking helped her cope with the untreated trauma of multiple sexual assaults at the age of 18, during her “sabbatical” working at pastoral stations and she says it was also a way for her to cope with social anxiety
But soon she became dependent, and later, addicted
“In the blink of an eye, you’re almost 40 years old,” he said.
“And those couple drinks at parties have turned into a six-pack, they’ve turned into sitting up until 5 in the morning and watching the sun rise being the drunkest guy on the floor with the boys. And before realize, you are the person consuming the alcohol. the privacy of your own home.”
He drank a lot there. But eight years ago, he woke up in hospital after a drunken fall and realized his choice was to change or die.
“I was a suicidal, sick human, desperately close to death. It was horrible,” Ms Whan said.
The shock of her situation acted as motivation and through hard work and with the support of her husband Tim, she stopped drinking.
Shanna Whan and her husband Tim Whan at their home near Narrabri, NSW. (Australian History: Marc Smith)
He later founded the non-profit, Sober In The Country, which has now grown into a social impact company and peer support network called Bush Tribe.
“It takes an average of 18 years for someone to seek help. So people have been falling for almost two decades and we don’t even see it,” he said.
Support the forest
“Alcohol is one of the most dangerous drugs to detox from,” said Chris Davis, a general practitioner specializing in drug and alcohol services.
“Going cold turkey, if you’re alcohol dependent, can lead to seizures and death.”
Dr. Davis is one of the operators of a home detox service called the Clean Slate Clinic.
Dr. Davis helps manage Clean Slate Clinic. (ABC News:)
It offered a similar service in the UK before launching it in Australia to counter the lack of detox services in Sydney’s west.
Since the onset of COVID, the program has moved to a 100 percent virtual format where patients are assessed for suitability and then given a drug detoxification plan that includes pharmaceuticals and vitamins, equipment such as a breathalyzer and a blood pressure monitor.
They are also offered daily telehealth sessions followed by rehabilitation support and regular visits.
“Going through a process of alcohol withdrawal in your own environment, where you have to learn to live with the stresses of everyday life, is really powerful,” Dr. Davis said.
“Also, it means that your support network, your family and friends, are on this journey with you. So they’re getting support and they’re getting education about what to do if someone relapses.”
The stigma of quitting drinking
The program is now being trialled in country New South Wales and outback Queensland to see if it can be adapted to the needs of remote patients.
While the service can include detoxification from a variety of substances, doctors say the main area of detox needed in rural areas is alcohol.
However, access to medicated detoxification services is limited for people in the regions, meaning that many must leave their communities to travel long distances, at great cost, to seek treatment in more big.
This alone can act as a deterrent to seeking help.
“We’ve had our first people sign up in the Queensland and New South Wales region,” Clean Slate Clinic co-founder Chris Raine said.
“It’s the kind of model that’s perfectly suited to regional and remote Australia, so we really want to invest in the relationships to make it a success here.”
The test will also be used to tailor the program to the unique needs of people in more rural and remote settings. But Mr Raine said the anonymity offered through the program would particularly appeal to those in small towns.
“Quitting drinking can be very stigmatized,” she said. “But with this, no one has to know you’re doing it.
“You can stay on (your) property or in an environment where you can continue to work if it’s appropriate. It’s not as disruptive as detoxes can be.”
The service is designed to work in partnership with existing services, such as those provided by Alcohol and Other Drug (AOD) Counsellor, Nicky Wildermuth. He works for AOD Lives Lived Well in the Queensland outback town of Longreach.
Nicky Wildermuth said many people were now referring to themselves. (ABC News: Stephen Cavenagh)
He said that while demand for services like his had remained constant, there had been a noticeable increase in the number of people self-referring for help, indicating a potential cultural shift.
“They are [making] that they call themselves and ask for this treatment and support, which I think is very positive.”
Address the needs of First Nations people
Sandy Gillies is chief executive of the Western Queensland Primary Health Network (PHN), which commissioned one of the trials.
He said the region had one of the highest rates of at-risk drinking in the state, but lacked services and could not afford to build a facility or hire the workers needed to do the the functioning
Ms Gillies is the first indigenous person to head one of the 31 PHNs. (ABC News: Stephen Cavenagh)
“The statistics tell us there is a need and here we have an opportunity to do something positive,” he said.
He was born in the outback and is also the first indigenous person to head one of the 31 PHNs across the country.
Much of their work focuses on First Nations health, which is also an area in which Clean Slate seeks to provide culturally safe services.
“We want to explore the cultural responsiveness and safety of a service like this, particularly in our rural and remote Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities,” Ms Gillies said.
“With any program you’re trying to deliver to First Nations peoples, you have to take these cultural considerations into account, but also the cultural strengths. It’s critical that we embark on designing [it] to meet the needs of our First Nations peoples.”
But he’s optimistic that it ticks the right boxes for the entire community.
“When you live here in these regions, you just know you’re winning.”
The program is funded to run until the end of June next year when its effectiveness will be assessed and, depending on the results, it is a format that could be extended to other rural and remote areas.
A beacon of hope
Back in country NSW, Shanna Whan believes the style of service will appeal to many people in the bush, but also said it was important to realize it won’t suit everyone.
“If it’s given to people at a good time in the escalation of their addiction, it’s a game changer,” he said.
But already, one of his Bush tribe members has secured a home detox site.
“This little beacon of hope and help for that person, who lives so far away, to know that they can have a GP and a nurse and a program to follow in their remote places … I think it’s a powerful opportunity.”