Drink.
July 30th, 2010
I hadn’t slept more than an hour the night of July 14th, so the following night I went to bed with the expectation that I’d fall right off. I took my nightly dose of Trazedone and read Mark Twain for awhile. Then I took my nightly dose of Ambien and clicked off the lamp. I laid down and tried to get comfortable, but I couldn’t. I considered taking an oxycodone — it would have killed the pain — but it makes me too wired. So I took half of my following night’s ration of Ambien. Worry, worry. My mind went on search mode and I began wondering if my son was going to get the tax form from his employer that I needed to finish my 2009 taxes. Then it went to the deductions — I may have pushed it on the amount I entered for the books I took to Goodwill. It would be such a bitch to be audited for a few crummy hundred bucks. Then a some seconds of static and suddenly I wondered if I should respond to an acquaintance’s request for me to join Linked-In. Fuck no. Fuck that. But it kept popping up on my screen. I took off my watch and held it to my ear and listened to it tick. Seconds are really really long. Why am I worried about Linked-In shit? He ought to know I’m no longer in the job market! I sat up on the edge of the bed and debated taking more Ambien. But I didn’t want to abuse the drug. Instead I ate a Sweet & Salty Clif Mojo bar. Then a brilliant thought jumped in front of everything, if I was going to abuse anything, it ought to be something I’d enjoy abusing. I’d seen my roommate drinking Irish whiskey a few months before. He was the kind of drinker who could make a bottle last a decade. It was a little past 2:30. Irish, without that peaty smell of Scotch. Yeah, that would be the thing. I stood, pivoted on my leg, plopped into my wheelchair, and I was at the other end of the long house in seconds, in front of my roommate’s personal cabinet. There was only one bottle in it. Wine. What a disappointment. Still, my mission was underway. The idea of going another moment without alcohol… Uh uh, I’d been close before and bailed. Not this time. I filled a twelve ounce tumbler with the wine and drank it down in a minute. I believe it was red wine.
That is how I ended 31 years, 7 months, and 20 days of sobriety. I went to bed and slept.
The following day, a more realistic worry struck me. My roommate’s girlfriend was in town and it occurred to me he’d uncorked that bottle for the occasion. I hadn’t thought of that. I could only hope he was as unconscious about his wine stash as I was about the amount of dish soap I have in the squirt bottle. As it turned out, he was.
On the 17th, I got a call from a friend I hadn’t seen in a long long time. “Fred. I just want to let you know that two days ago, on the fifteenth, I celebrated 20 years sobriety. And I really owe it to you. You talked me into getting with the AA program. I am so… indebted.” That phone call was a real acting challenge for me. And my sober friend is a pretty damn good actor. How’d I do, Chris?
I spent a couple more days deciding if I should buy some whiskey, or brandy, possibly dark rum. Maybe see if I couldn’t just quit obsessing about it. In the same sudden spirit that moved me to drink, I sent my primary care doctor at the VA an email telling her about my slip. She got back to me pretty quickly. Come in to the A&E department and get some counseling. A nice woman named Cassandra told me I had to get off my own case and that I should go back to AA.
So I’m back to where I was in 1978. I went to three meetings this week. I raised my hand and announced myself as a newcomer. Humiliated. But a wee bit proud of myself, too. But this damn worrying. This obsession with the self, as people in AA put it. Stop it, Fred.
By the way, that phrase in the first paragraph of this post, I laid down. Should I have said, I lay down? Or I lied down?
July 31st, 2010 at 10:56 pm
Thanks for writing this, Fred.
July 31st, 2010 at 11:00 pm
jeezum crow, Fred. i’m glad you got in touch with your doctor & AA. i’ve done the alleged ambien-eating– late night eating being my own vice. i can see easily how you are wakeful but without all your decision making firing on all cylinders, coupled with the extreme desperation of wanting to sleep.
you can call us up at home any time of the night.
July 31st, 2010 at 11:17 pm
You lay down. Or you laid yourself down. This is one of the few things I know.
I really wish I knew how to say that 31 years is a big deal without dismissing what just happened. How to say that I have respect for you and confidence in you (and that this is gripping writing) without totally missing the point.
August 1st, 2010 at 10:36 am
Turn it off, turn it on. I have made huge assaults on my body with alcohol and every other know intoxicating or euphoria inducing substance in this galaxy. When I am on, I am on it. When it becomes a pain, I am off it.
You know what I am having trouble with now? Skinny Cow brand ice-cream sandwiches. I have come to view with a skeptical eye anything frozen that can melt without losing its form. I have had some violent ills with alcohol but those damn Skinny Cow circles of dope have put me off anything cold for a while. I ate six Friday evening and I am just now, Sunday P.M. feeling like I could have a little OJ . . . with a splash.
August 1st, 2010 at 12:08 pm
Fred - fuck man. So you slipped. “Slipped”. After 32 years? Well, goddamn it, if you’re NOT entitled to a “slip” who the fuck is? Yeah, I know in context, it’s a big deal. But isn’t one of the AA tenets to forgive yourself? As most who know you will say “call me if you need to”. Seriously, do. We never seemed to get together for that coffee like we’d meant to. I’ve been wondering if you still have that rooster, or any of that other crazy shit from Archie McPhee I laid on you that time you and Kurt and I got together at Bill’s on Clement. It was not long after you’d lost your leg, I think. Be good to see you again. At any rate, give yourself permission to give your demons the night off once in awhile.
August 1st, 2010 at 1:15 pm
Scott –
Thanks. I’ve got the rooster on the mantel, looking down on all I do.
Fred
August 1st, 2010 at 1:20 pm
Brady –
Oh yes, the lemon squares. On occasion, I have also noticed the ambien/eat circuit. Just once or twice, actually. But I did really stuff my face. Don’t know why it doesn’t more often affect tme that way.
August 1st, 2010 at 5:22 pm
You know I care.
Thought: Now you don’t have to carry around those years like a Stanley Cup you can’t ever set down.
August 4th, 2010 at 12:28 am
Fred, what the heck. We are all imperfect, and “going out again” is NOT the equivalent of killing your neighbors’ children. Must feel pretty dreadful, though. My burning question is: was it fun, at least? That you immediately told people is amazing. My fear is that I couldn’t admit it and would end up engulfed in guilt and shame and My Secret. Call me anytime. I may not answer fast enough in the wee hours so leave a message. You helped me a lot when I was new in the program. I have no wisdom whatsoever but call anyway. 253-272-2432 (Tacoma) or cell 510-368-0846. –VA
August 18th, 2010 at 9:44 am
Dear Fred: WTF!!! I’m sure you have talked to your doctor about changing the sleep meds to something that actually works. I’ve never had insomnia, but post-Katrina I went into a deep funk that left me with an unfocused and racing mind during all waking hours. Finally went to the doc and got an antidepressant and that knocked it quick. Maybe good for you, too? Call anytime day or night. I have no trouble going back to sleep. Our number rings thru to New Orleans when we are not in S.F.