July 14, 2012
Present Day
I am back home this week, in Charleston,
South Carolina. July the sixteenth, will be nine months since my
esophagus ruptured. Since the day my liver became excessively scarred,
inhibiting normal blood flow, and causing excess blood pressure in my
veins. What began as an occasional drinking binge in college, eventually
devolved into my complete, physical dependence to alcohol. A
relationship with hooch that I never considered possible, after watching
my father succumb to the destruction caused by his fixation with booze.
This is my first extended return to
Chuck-town, and visit for more than one night. I have been walking
around the city, and it is a tremendous relief to feel some manner of
normal. This is what the physician's told me that I would never
experience, for the remainder of my shortened life. According to them, I
should have been dead three months ago. Yet, I have been walking for
hours at a time, and while climbing a staircase, I am able to ascend two
steps at a time. This is another sign of my progress, and it is
absolutely gratifying.
Last Fall, my younger brother was
pushing me around in a wheelchair. Looking back, I can't imagine how
that made him feel. At only 38 years old, I had become immobile due to
excessive drinking. My 34 year old, baby brother was touring me around
in the hospital courtyard, during what could have been a beautiful
afternoon, tossing the football around.
Instead, I was wrapped as tightly as
Hannibal Lecter in "The Silence of The Lambs". Encased in a blanket
from my hospital bed, to hold out the chilly November air. I could feel
every fragment of debris on the sidewalk, and under the wheels of the
chair, as we circled the park benches. A pebble, an acorn, or even a
small crack in the concrete, would send shock waves of intense pain,
throughout my body.
I could feel the massive amount of
abnormally retained fluid in my abdomen, while it jostled, and moved my
guts to wherever there was room. It felt as if something was twisting
my bowels into knots, and shaking my belly to the point of nausea.
Meanwhile, I had lost a lot of bone, and muscle mass, and I appeared to
be much older than I actually was.
Now, that I am back in town, it is not
apparent that I was ever sick, or near death, for that matter. I still
appear to be underweight, but otherwise it has been abundantly clear,
that most of the locals I run into are completely unaware of what
happened to me. The most common greeting so far has been, "DWT! Long
time, no see." Sometimes, "I haven't seen you in awhile" is added to
the exchange. Furthermore, it is not surprising that some have
mentioned, "You're headed to the bar, I bet." I throw an unexpected
curve ball when I tell them I no longer drink.
What has been off putting, is the lack
of seriousness when I drop the heavy news. "Yea, I have been in
Beaufort. I almost died, last fall", I tell them.
"Ha, ha. You should take it easy", has been a common response.
Although, I reiterate the event of my near death, the conversation moves on, and is completely ignored. I don't expect anything from these acquaintances, I only find it odd that some things can be so easily brushed off.
"Ha, ha. You should take it easy", has been a common response.
Although, I reiterate the event of my near death, the conversation moves on, and is completely ignored. I don't expect anything from these acquaintances, I only find it odd that some things can be so easily brushed off.
However, I have seen some friends who
were close to me over the years. Many of them haven't seen me since I
was on my death bed. They have failed to be supportive, or
congratulatory of my startling, and unexpected recovery. I simply
cannot wrap my head around what must be going through their minds. I
knew this was coming, as other addicts have told me, yet it doesn't make
it any easier to deal with.
It has been a long, and difficult nine
months, but overall I am extremely happy. I feel good, I am on my home
turf, and actually mingling with people. Yet, most importantly, this is
my first real test with being out on the town, among the ever present
alcohol. There have been no urges, whatsoever.
Finally, I am staying with the new girl.
She is someone I have known for quite awhile, but a real connection
has developed with my sobriety. Without drinking, I am happier than I
have been since...
I can't even remember the last time I was this upbeat, and lively.
Come to think of it, it takes about nine months to grow a new human body. This is my second.
Alcohol was not my friend.
Photo: Tim Todd Driving The Chair
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keep it going bro,,,,giving a second chance..smell the roses....watch the birds....and let the sun shine on you dude
ReplyDeletegood luck and godspeed
Thank you very much.
ReplyDelete