Sunday Sundries … Grinding
Courtesy: I Hate Renton
And we are back on a Sunday, with a successful week that has been. I’m still on a reduced schedule. I did not have to press myself with things to do, because of company that was in town last week, which freed me up to take care of me.
I’ve been reliant on pain killers the past few days, and I had to stop at the pharmacy on the way home to refill a script that I really did not want to fill, but it was a necessary evil.
I spoke directly with the pharmacist on duty about what was going on with me and what she could do for me. There is medication that one can access without a prescription from a doctor.
Being in recovery places certain limits on what kind of medication I can take, but real pain, is real pain. I just can’t ask for something that I should not be taking at all. So she refilled the meds I had at home, so that I would be able to get to Thursday, when I actually see my doctor in person.
I’m thinking that I can get a radiology consult in order to find out what is really going on, instead of waiting until Thursday and seeing him, then making a decision on what to do next. I would like to get the diagnosis in the bank sooner than later, then allowing my doctor to be able to see the tests or scans as I am sitting with him, then we could take a plan of action.
I got to the church on time, and friends were already setting up as I walked into the hall, so half the job was done. We finished up and I spent time with a sponsee in the hour before the meeting.
As is usual, we hit another really sad story. It was laughable, but utterly raw in terms of the situation. They say that it becomes a blessing when we can laugh at our own stories. And in reading tonight’s fare …”There’s nothing wrong with me,” that phrase was common amongst us at one point or another.
There are different types of alcoholics, depending on the depth of the addiction, what we drank, how much we drank, and who we hurt all along the way.
Our man, in tonight’s story drank like an animal. Back in the day, when it came to alcohol, some oldsters went to bitter and dangerous lengths just to get cranked.
I, myself, never resorted to shoe polish or mouth wash, or vanilla extract. I just drank alcohol, until I could not stand up. I was reminded by our story tonight, just how much of an animal I was when I was drinking.
I wasn’t drinking because liquor tasted good, but because of what the liquor did for me. And I repeated that same thought, that has come from me before. The thought that, at no time did any of my friends, employers or family ever said the word STOP.
I’ve ruined travel occasions because of my drinking. Back before everyone got sober, from the office I worked in in my younger years, we would go on weekend jaunts just to get on a plane and drink compulsively. The longer and farther the flight, the better, because as travel agents we were privy to First Class accommodations, which afforded us free liquor. I was not the only alcoholic in the bunch, but in the end, in our own times, we each got sober.
I don’t know where my love of alcohol came from, I mean, when I started drinking, it wasn’t for just one drink, or one beer. It was all or nothing. My friends used to drink as well, I mean, that was a familiar past time, to get some beer or hawk a bottle of liquor from a liquor cabinet and get piss ass drunk.
I loved it from the get go, so I wondered out loud tonight, how I came to love alcohol so much. I guess you could say that when I was told to go the bar and drink, then see what happens, I guess I figured that if I learned to drink correctly, to get the effect desired, then I drank. Once you get past the first drink, the rest go down like water.
Bar tenders were more than happy to pour a drink or two, and match those drinks, with shot after shot. And drink with you as well, so they were getting as cranked as we were.
Eventually we either find the end point, or it is pointed out to us, and we stop. I knew, this time, that Stop was coming. I prayed, and God answered me, because He knew better what I needed than I did myself. The rest is history.
Wednesday December the 9th, is my 14th sober anniversary.
That is 5,110 days without a drink. One day at a time.
The story said this last thought succinctly …
A.A. does not need me, I need A.A. it is that simple.
More to come, stay tuned…