I wanted to write something about ‘the thing that happened to me’ last week, and what’s happening now. As you’ll have gathered from earlier, slightly panicked and quite possibly incoherent posts, I had a lapse. After nine months of sobriety, I had a drink. Which is putting it very mildly indeed, but you get the picture. And if an alcoholic himself is not a pretty sight, a lapsed one is a kind of Year Zero zombie version with extra gore, lumbering forth with eyeballs dangling, mouth agape waiting hungrily for the next refill.
So, y’know, it wasn’t a good look all around. I also managed to vomit all over a fancy new shirt I’d just bought which I thought made me look like King Shit, which it did (kinda) until it just made me look like shit in general. Anyway, the whole mess ended up, with grim inevitability, in the back of an ambulance, hooked up to everything and concerned paramedics (very concerned, it later transpired) telling me to ‘hang on mate’ and whispering urgently about my heart. Barely conscious, I did indeed hang on. Kind of like a semi-comatose Elton John, but without the money or the hair weave.
Anyway, it transpired that the concern was real as I’d drunk sufficient amounts to knock my heart out of its normal doings and they were having trouble putting it back to rights. You’ll forgive my non-medical parlance there, but in short I was lucky to avoid having a stroke.
Such is the nature of alcoholism. We deal not just with a simple ‘drinking problem’ but with death itself. In all its sordid, sorry, back-of-an-ambulance finality, awash with fluids and cables, with desperate paramedics fighting for you to live, with heartbroken friends, broken promises and orphaned children.
But, here I still am. By the Grace of God (and you’ll forgive my Catholicism here), and whatever mercy He had left for me, I made it. Also, some very practical, fast-moving and incredibly decent people on the ground, have given me their time, compassion, support, friendship and love and haven’t hesitated to help. As such, I’m back in the safe arms of my beloved Gunnebah, the rehab retreat which saved me the first time around and seem unwilling to let me croak on them this time either. Despite everything, I am a very blessed, lucky and – believe me when I say this – grateful man tonight.
So let’s start that again shall we:
One day at a time.
So sorry. But thank God for the rescue! Very best wishes for your physical and emotional recovery.