But I drank too little water and too much alcohol. At 5 o'clock every night—and I started watching the clock in midafternoon—I had the first of two stiff drinks. I knew that women were supposed to limit themselves to a single drink, but I'm 5 ft. 10, and I figured that meant that like a man's, my limit was two drinks. And mostly I kept to two drinks, but the drinks got bigger—and stronger—as I got older. It was my reward at the end of the day, and there was rarely a day when I went without. I remember the feeling of the alcohol as it burst into my bloodstream. It was like heroin. It made my knees go weak. I passed most evenings in a mild stupor. I wasn't down-and-out drunk, but I wasn't sober either.
When I told Other I thought I should cut back, he guffawed. But I know I had a problem. I stopped drinking when I got my diagnosis. It was surprisingly easy. And having a brain that actually functions after 5 is a relief. I'm not that ambitious about accomplishing much at night, but it's nice to know that if I wanted to I could. Mostly I fill my evenings with small pleasures. I can read—and even write in this blog if I've a mind to.
Cancer may mean that I don't live my full lifespan in years, but in a funny way, it has given me a few more hours in every day.
2 comments:
Cancer is a wake-up call in so many ways, I imagine. I'm glad you have those evening hours to enjoy.
Despite reading all the studies, despite my non-alarmist PCP saying I probably shouldn't drink post breast cancer, I've yet to give up my one drink four or five days a week. I never could tolerate two (I'm only 5'5" LOL), but definitely feel the buzz. Every once in a while, I skip a week or two, but especially when eating out, it's so nice to have that martini or glass of white wine.
Not making any resolutions here, but you've got me thinking. Maybe I'll give abstinence another try.
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