For more than two weeks, I've been puny. A cold virus settled in my chest, moved from cold to bronchitis and now to walking pneumonia. I've not been lie-in-bed-and-moan sick. I've just been coughing and coughing and coughing until I'm worn out sick. Finally Monday, after two weeks, I went to the doctor and got the pneumonia diagnosis (I'd been hearing the most amazing whistling, squeaking, and clicking in my lung) and got antibiotics. They have not yet worked any miracles on my chest. I am still puny and I want to run away from my body until it is better.
When I was drinking, I didn't mind being sick. It was a great reason to stay home from work and cancel all appointments and just drink. And with cold medicine and enough bourbon, I'd get so numb I wouldn't care. But now I don't do that and I miss that deep sense of relaxation that comes from just enough booze boosted by an antihistamine. My body remembers that sense of relaxation, that sense of ease, probably more than any other part of the alcoholic experience. Right now I'm deeply missing that ease.
I'm not going to drink. The consequences of that are so horrifying to me that I don't feel at risk. But it is easier to contemplate the seduction when I don't feel good.