I’m not saying you have and I’m not saying you haven’t, but if you’ve ever gone off the sauce for a slightly longer than an average period of time (you know, like 24 hours or so ) you know the point when your body just sort of shuts down and you wind up with every single sickness known to humanity. Suddenly you go from being the zenith of health (minus the cirrhotic liver) to a whiny little gremlin lying in bed wreathed by used Kleenexes, empty EmergenC packets and the slow fade of your will to live.
I reached that point last week.
My body was so busy doing a complete overhaul on my liver that it didn’t even see the virus that strolled right in the front door and started smashing my immune system with tiny, cell-sized sledgehammers. I won’t regale you with bed-to-bathroom details, but it was an unpleasant few days to say the least.
I was telling a few of my friends about the ailments this past week and they countered by saying they’ve had the exact same thing happen to them when they dropped the alcohol for a while, whether it was for health reasons, mental reasons, or baby-in-the-belly reasons.
I don’t really think there is a lesson to be learned here. I guess it’s just me complaining. Perhaps the lesson is just that our drinking takes a bigger toll than we think and it takes a lot of work to rebuild the cells we’ve destroyed with delicious beer, liquor and wine.
Or maybe it’s that a steady amount of alcohol delivered into our system keeps us nice and healthy. Pickled organs are much more resistant to the flu than alcohol free innards.
Either way, you’ll have to excuse me as I go blow more brain matter into another wad of tissue (and then maybe update my OK Cupid profile with that same sentiment).