It was recently suggested that I might want to cut down on my alcohol intake, which is untrue. I do not want to do that.
I’ve dabbled in sobriety before, but it doesn’t speak to me in quite the same way a glass of really good beer does. A glass of really good beer solves everything on a cellular level. I can feel it seeping into my most attentive tissues and recalibrating them in an important and fundamental way. It’s good medicine. For instance, it completely cures sobriety.
I mean, yes. I did drink to excess for a period of time in my life but it was only about twenty years, all told, and I barely remember it. So.
Currently I drink two really good beers a night. Every so often, a third. My doctor would like me to cut that down to one beer a night, max. The thing about that is the second beer sort of tar-babies onto the first one so really it’s just one beer, but it doesn’t all fit in one glass. I explained that to the doctor but she got all science-y on me.
Anyway, I always assume a doctor is going to tell me to cut down or eliminate my alcohol intake. That’s what they do. My own life plan was to continue at my current pace until my liver enzyme stats started squeaking and then quit. I’m willing to be just a little bit yellow.
Turns out that wasn’t even what my doctor had in mind. She is a word-to-the-wise sort of person, so she didn’t hammer at me—she just presented the information that the amount of alcohol I’m consuming is strongly correlated with cancer. And heart disease. It’s like she doesn’t even care about my liver, which has been heroic all along.
Whuh? Cancer? Heart disease? I am not interested in either of those things. My mother died of breast cancer when she was younger than I am now. I was rather hoping I’d die old, of something like forgetting to breathe or having an Acme safe fall on me.
Well, anyway, that made an impression on me, and so I have embarked on a project of seriously contemplating cutting down at some yet-to-be-determined point. It’s not fair though. The medical lights recommend no more than one drink a day for women and two for men, and I am certain men’s appetite for alcohol is not automatically twice mine. But apparently women have a greater percentage of fat than men do, even the real pudgy ones, and fat absorbs more alcohol than water, which is one of the things men are full of. This means the alcohol shoots straight through your average man, but pulls up a chair and sits a spell in a woman; and also women have less of the enzyme that busts up alcohol. This is even true if the woman is huge and muscular and the man is little and doughy. Not that it matters; I also am little and doughy.
I was making great strides in my thinking-about-it campaign and then I read a New York Times article about the very same points my doctor brought up. The cancer thing was no joke. They had a lot of statistics. They had a lot of scientific explanation. I had a single beer that night. I’ve had a single beer every night since. It’s been a couple weeks. It hasn’t been that bad. I imagine I’ll have more than one sometimes, like if we have company, but I think I can keep this up. I want to outlive my mom by more than one year.
Although she never had a drink in her life.
Paul and I both drink MUCH more than the “recommended maximum.” And on a daily basis. I DID manage to completely forego alcohol for ten days because I was taking Tylenol for pain from a bruised rib. And Tylenol is really hard on the liver. And why did I have a bruised rib? I had drunk too much and fell while trying to cover my parrots at night and had an encounter with the marble top of our café table.
You would think that would put me off alcohol entirely, especially since I managed to go ten days without it. But, no. I moderate a bit more, but I just like the feeling too much. I have anxiety and worry issues, and the buzz of alcohol quiets the inner voices that cause me distress. These issues are not about things that probably will never happen. They are about things that certainly WILL. On an outer level, I worry about the fact that our planet is dying. Where I am, we’re not seeing things like wildfires, but we are getting more fierce rainstorms, with tornado watches. We’ve all been through the covid lockdown and subsequent supply chain issues, so i worry about that happening again, only this time there is no vaccine. I worry about whether our democracy will survive. And on a more personal level, I absolutely HATE being old. I can’t do as much or move as fast because of arthritis. I’ve lost TWO inches of height — and I was really short to begin with — so now I have to have Paul reach the top shelf of our cupboards. Even a step stool doesn’t help me. My eyesight is worse, as before I was near-sighted, but i’ve gotten a bit more far-sighted as well. Even with multi-focal contacts, I sometimes have to put on readers to read anything. And i can’t see birds in the yard well enough to identify them, which is something I totally miss.
I’m not looking for longevity. Living to be a hundred would be a punishment for me. I know that I’m undoubtedly cutting my life short… but it’s not the fun part, where i was young and had energy. it’s the old part, where everything is wearing out and friends are dying.
Hell to the yeah. I’m closer to 70 than I am to 65 and I figure I have, at most, 15 good years left in me. That puts a few long-term projects into perspective! I have no intention of living to 90, let alone 100. Torture, indeed!
Carolyn
Thank you, Carolyn! I usually shy away from telling people just how much I drink, but usually when I confide in someone, they’re like “Hey! Me, too!”
And I figure that since liquor stores are a stone’s throw away from each other around here, and apparently doing a booming business, someone besides me and Paul are buying all that liquor.
I’m sorry, I had to stop and snot myself after “I fell while trying to cover my parrots.” But for real, anxiety is exactly as sensible and helpful for things that certainly will happen as it is for things that will not. Okay now I’m sure you can snap that worry spigot right off!
I like the way it feels too.
That’s the way I look at my nightly wine as well: I have one glass, which is never empty.
Seeing as humans ARE a cancer to the planet, it’s hardly surprising we’re brought down by cancer. It’s bound to get us, no matter the alleged cause(s).
Carolyn
The way I look at it, we’re ALL going to die. No one gets outta here alive. If a heart attack or stroke doesn’t get you, cancer will. And if THAT doesn’t get you, there is Alzheimer’s. And trust me on this, that is a far worse way to go. My mom had it and died from it. With the other diseases, they kill your body. But killing your mind, personality, and memories is far worse.
(BTW… I sometimes come across fish bowl-sized “wine glasses” at yard sales, and I think “What a perfect way to tell your doctor that you only drink one glass a night!”)
The old line is “My doctor limited me to one glass of wine at night. Could you help me carry it in from the kitchen?”
LOL! Exactly why I cannot buy these oversized glasses (which are in actuality, probably vases.) I cannot grip properly anymore, and something that size would be beyond me.
BTW, Murr, thank you for addressing this “issue” without judgement. This is probably the first time i felt comfortable enough to tell someone all this, because I knew all the peeps here wouldn’t blink an eye.
And i wish i could turn off the “worry spigot.” I think it may be genetic; my mom was a big worrier.
I think it’s a temperament thing that is genetic also–most of the time anyway. But I think there are approaches to it that are said to work well, if you want to look into cognitive behavioral therapy. Although I’m plenty capable of worrying, it isn’t a big part in my life, and I suspect that’s related to my inability to remember much (clean slate every day). So I don’t have a piano repertoire but I don’t drive myself crazy.
Heh–I had one of those novelty wine glasses in my bedroom closet for the longest time (holding corks). It stood 3′ high. It was a gift to me from the chorus and had been filled with chocolates. I recently gave it to GoodWill in one of my purges.
I think Alzheimer’s is the cruelest of all diseases. My mother is sinking deeper into it daily (I visit her 5 afternoons a week to keep her engaged and active, when she’s feeling up to it. She knows she likes me, but has no idea we’re related). What’s the point of making all those memories when they’re stolen away in the blink of an eye?
Hmmm… WordPress kindly informed me that my comment was spam. Here goes again… I have only just noticed the chickadee on the beer bottle, does alcohol affect eyesight that much?
WordPress is doing that lately. But not too often. I haven’t decided if I should do anything about it but I apologize. And yes. What chickadee?
This is not meant as judgement. I’ve never understood the appeal of alcohol. Red wine gives me headaches and makes me angry and more of a jerk than I normally am. Which apparently is a monster sized jerk. Drinking beer feels like my kidneys are filled with broken glass. I’ve tried whiskey and scotch and really didn’t notice any effect. I like the taste of rum in desserts and wine and beer in meats/stews, but at that point there isn’t enough alcohol left to produce an effect. I have used white wine medicinally when I had an upper respiratory thingie going. The main effect is some clearing of the congestion.
I guess something other than alcohol is going to contribute to my demise.
There are *so* many ways to go! Heroin, for instance! Give ‘er a whirl!
Well, I admire your tenacity in trying different types of alcohol before dismissing them entirely! Wine in general gives me headaches (probably because once I started the bottle, i felt compelled to finish it) and i have no desire to drink it, even though it’s around the house (Paul likes red Spanish wines, and I keep a bottle of white in the fridge for cooking.) I don’t really like the taste of beer anymore, except in rare circumstances — like pizza! I have various things on a really high shelf for cooking only, not drinking: sake, bourbon, vermouth, cognac. I prefer a bit of rye in a glass of water. It’s about the control. Beer and wine, you can’t dilute. Rye you can. And it’s not sweet. I HATE sweet drinks.
I tried a cigarette ONCE when a salesman was giving out samples back when they still did that. I didn’t get the appeal of that. it was stinky and i had better things to spend my money on back then.
I tried pot for a while, but it made me cough and hack. Paul uses a vape pen for pot, and I tried it, but it just didn’t do it for me.
You are fortunate that you don’t have an addictive personality. I can do without when I must, like when we go out to dinner. I drink Pellegrino then. I am never anxious in social settings, so I don’t feel I need it then. You are very lucky that you don’t care for it.
There are other things that one can be addicted.
This has all the makings of a very interesting segue. Besides, it’s true.
I have never drank to excess…..but up until abut 2 years ago, I had one beer a day, at about 10pm. It helped me sleep – or so I thought. I sort of lost my taste for it, so I quit. Now, I have one when I eat pizza, but since I can’t eat that now that my gall bladder is gone – I will have even less. Now turn down a margarita? Seldom.
Oh well fine now I’m thinking about margaritas.
If you quit eating bacon, you could live another 30 years. However, that would be 30 years WITHOUT BACON! Not worth it. One beer a night – a reasonable compromise. Cancer sucks. Really, I think the Acme safe demise would be the best.
Isn’t it sometimes a piano? A piano would be okay. Nice final chord.
B-flat
Ha ha!
Also my favorite key since I had a bilateral mastectomy.
arrrrrrgggghhhh
I should reduce to my coffee consumption to fewer cups/day…. errr that’s really really really hard. Alcohol- Notta problem. Caffeine= problem
Is it though?
I don’t drink any alcohol at all, so I get told to cut back or cut out lots of other good stuff, like chocolate, ice cream, and anything else containing sugar. Pfft! I’ll try and that’s about the best I can do most days until summer when I can give up all of it except the ice cream, but long walks along our beaches should help with using up those calories.
I don’t crave sugar except in ice cream, and I think it’s the Cold and Fat that draws me in there.
I had a beer last week while having lunch with some friends at a Mexican restaurant.
I noticed when I got home that I was fuming mad and painfully depressed at all of the offenses perpetrated against me in recent times by both private and public persons.
Well, there’s a planet on fire and democracies everywhere are being blown to smithereens.
Anyway, resentments will kill you. Best not to have them, even if you resent the doctor’s advice.
Good heavens, the beer did that to you?
Beer just makes Paul and I feel sleepy and overly full. Tequila, however, is another matter. Apparently it is BOTH a stimulant AND a relaxant. Once long ago, I was picking him up from work at a bar where he had had a couple margaritas after work. Fortunately, my friend Bill was in the back seat of my car at the time. Paul was acting uncharacteristically assholey. We argued in the car, and he tried to get out of the passenger seat while we were moving. (Old cars didn’t automatically lock when being driven back then.) Bill reached over from the back seat and pulled him in. The next day, after he slept it off, i had one of those “we gotta talk” discussions. He hasn’t touched tequila since.
I lost my sense of humor about alcohol a long time ago. I chalk it up to too many alcoholic patients, many on the rotating door plan. And then having a husband who for the first 20 years of our marriage had much the same thoughts as you about his drinking. “It’s only a couple. I’ll cut down. I’ll give it up some future date in the unforeseeable future.” It all worked well until I came home from my 12 hour nursing gig one night to him slurring his words and claiming he couldn’t find our cat (who was right there). And swearing that he’d had no more to drink while making dinner than usual.
Suffice it to say we had a come-to-Jesus meeting, a year of counseling, along with a forced sobriety (my condition for the marriage to survive). That was a little over 5 years ago and he’s still sober.
Good luck on your moderation. I hope it continues to work for you.
I’ve lost my sense of humor about Republicans. All else is fair game.
I’ve kept my sense of humor about all this. But it’s “gallows humor.” We’re ALL dying. Act accordingly.
Living, first!
The main social event for my parents was the cocktail party. Lots of that. Both were alcoholics, Mom worse than Dad, and later my brother. We had an eye-opener the first Christmas after my father died. Our very small family events would usually start out fine, but by the afternoon there was sniping and cranky and one or more persons leaving the room.
However, this post-Dad Christmas was quite different; very calm, very friendly. We realized that Dad’s self-appointed role of the day, all day, had been making sure that everybody’s drinks were topped off (nog, wine, otherwise). And without that, folks weren’t annoyingly drunk.
And another weird Dad/alcohol thing. I really hated the taste of booze, and swore I would never drink. Dad was patronizing about it, assuring me that I would. Back and forth, until finally he wrote out a small contract for me to sign: “On the day I take an alcoholic drink and like it, I will turn to the East and shout ‘The old man is always right!'”
Good alcoholics always insist on company. We have very little drinking in my family. My mom and dad had a tot of sherry once a year. My sister doesn’t drink. My brother and other sister drank moderately. I’m the only one who overdid it. Oh, and my uncle Bill, but that’s a WHOLE other story…
I NEVER call myself an “alcoholic.” Alcoholics go to meetings. I’m just a drunk who doesn’t like meetings. Plus I’m an atheist, so a “faith-based cure” would not pass muster for me. Higher power? Sorry… I don’t believe in that. Just as I don’t believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, or the Easter Bunny.” It all seems like whistling past the graveyard.
I told Dave to just think of me as his higher power.
More about Uncle Bill, please!
Too long a story for a blog! I have written him up at one point for some other market, but never got it where I wanted it.
We would gladly have his story in installments!
Yes! Please! Julie does installments. You can, too! Don’t tease us like this, Murr. You have piqued our interest in Uncle Bill. Pleasepleaseplease, tell us the story! *looking all expectant*
Nope. Not for here. I just went searching for what I’ve already written about Uncle Bill but couldn’t find it, at least yet. My thought is the story needs a wider audience than this blog has, and if I ever get it properly written up and published anywhere, I’ll let you know.
I quit drinking 32 years ago when I found out my doctor was right. At my annual physical he said, “How much do you drink?” I said, “Oh, a glass or two of wine in the evening.” He said, “Try this. For the next week, drink one – only one – glass of wine on three of the evenings.” The appointment was on a Monday, so I had my glass of wine that night, my second glass on Tuesday, my third on Wednesday. On Thursday I decided the doc didn’t know what he was talking about and continued on my merry way.
For me there was no such thing as one of anything. Tried that. If you can do one beer a night, good for you! No regrets at all about staying sober. Life is more interesting now.
According to my juvenile memories, my parents were not heavy drinkers, but my father had a considerable capacity for alcohol, showing no effects (that were visible to me). My mother got silly when she did drink, embarassing me in a restaurant by whispering “Higglety-pigglety, my black hen” in my ear.
My wife hates the taste of ethanol. If I make ice cream, I have to be sure to boil off the alcohol fraction of the vanilla flavoring if she is to like it. But she seems to be able to set aside that aversion for a good white or red with dinner.
I’m in little danger of exceeding the recommended dosage of ethanol, as my ethanol metabolism appears to be faulty. If I drink enough to the feel the slightest hint of vertigo (is “tipsy” the right word?), even if I stop right there, I am irrevocably on my way to calling Ralph on the big white phone, with no way to interrupt that journey. Alcohol dehydrogenase deficiency? Acetaldehyde dehydrogenase deficiency? A just plain obstreperous liver? Dunno, but I’m very susceptible to motion sickness (“He got seasick just standing on a wet lawn” — Terry Pratchett) which is what it feels like. Maybe a connection? I’ll never know. I do realize there are plenty of alcoholics who will go ahead and drink to the point of puking, but I’m glad to say that’s not my world. You might say that a drink is the ONLY thing I can have just one of.
For more about ethanol metabolism, see
https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Basic_Science/Cell_Biology_Genetics_and_Biochemistry_for_Pre-Clinical_Students/09%3A_Disorders_of_monosaccharide_metabolism_and_other_metabolic_conditions/9.02%3A_Alcohol_metabolism
Just like Jerry Seinfeld in his eponymous show said, “I haven’t thrown up in YEARS.” I don’t even get hangovers or headaches. So either I’m not as bad as I think, or I’m acclimated. Paul and I joke that we are “ethanol-based life forms.”
I don’t know how people get through our current times without some sort of “buffer.”
Even at my worst, I don’t remember ever throwing up. I would’ve been better off if I had, though. I don’t care for liquors except for a little gin and a lot of tonic and lime. Wine is just okay but just with dinner. Beer I like before dinner and none with. We’re all diff’rent.
I never had a hangover either, but that’s because I can’t drink enough to get a hangover. I do like Islay scotches. People who dislike them say they taste like smoke and iodine. Smoke yes, absolutely, that’s what I like about them, but I worked for years in chemistry labs with pure iodine and I went to great lengths to make sure I would NEVER find out what iodine tastes like. Maybe the people who say Islay scotches taste like smoke and iodine used to drink the antiseptic used on them when they were children?
Wow, this post and it’s comments have been eye opening! Growing up with an alcoholic father had me easily vowing never to drink. I married a non-drinker of course. My Dad’s health was not great later in his life with multiple issues. I have seen too many people who imbibe and have health problems. A friend had to have a triple bypass recently. The first thing to go was the daily beer he had been having for thirty years. The doctor said no more. Canadian guidelines for healthy drinking advise no more than two drinks a week. Sorry, not meaning to sound preachy but I enjoy life sober and hope to be around a while yet!
You don’t sound preachy at all. My one beer a night is holding steady and I imagine I can occasionally skip one now and then at some point. It is, however, a significant pleasure of mine, and that goes in the balance too.
I admire how you can do this, Murr. Thank you for being such an inspiration to me. please let us know how this goes.
Wow, this has been some eye opener for me as well. Like Robin, I grew up with an alcoholic dad (and his 2 brothers, who drank like him) and also vowed to not drink. Dad smoked too and died from cancer at age 63. I was always convinced his alcohol “sped the bad stuff along”. Murr, you obviously have a lot more to say in this life so I hope your efforts pay off. :^)
You have to figure I’m going to run out of things to say sometime, but you’re right–still going strong! I think it’s because I have fun with the *way* I say things so I don’t require much in the way of subject matter.
Wow, such interesting conversations. I came from a family that simply didn’t drink hardly at all. (My Grandpa would have a beer at the end of a long day working in the garden… a little stubby bottle of “oly”… And I didn’t much like the taste although I did drink for the effects… I was out for a date in my 20’s and my date ordered a carafe of red and grape kool-aide for the lady. I thought that was pretty hilarious. My uncle that I never met died of alcoholism as did my walking partners son died from alcohol poisoning just this spring. I no longer smoke like I did in my 20’s and don’t drink and don’t indulge in recreational drugs… but I do like desserts. LIke carrot cake and cookies….That is not so good for me either although it does make a day nicer… gotta stop having any sugar from 6;00 on since it makes restless legs so much worse. Damn… what’s left?
Shoot, you just named a bunch of things I don’t crave and ailments I don’t have–maybe I’m in good shape after all! [“Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue”]
Yeah, I was just telling someone how I never craved sugary stuff even from toddlerhood. (When I had my tonsils out, and I was told that I could have all the ice cream I wanted, I was like, ” Nah… I’m okay. I actually prefer Italian water ice.” (Probably not my exact words,but my sentiment.) I never was into sugar.
My first thought was that I wish I were like that. A moment later I recalled that I found it was quite possible to get quite fat on starch, fat and protein.
I like beer.
I wish I had more tolerance to alcohol. I would like to enjoy all the different flavors in beers and wines. I can have maybe an ounce of beer or half an ounce of wine before I start feeling yucky. I’ve been drunk twice: once when I was 14 and once at 15. I didn’t like how it made me feel, so I stopped. I missed my best friend’s New Year’s party because I was puking and passed out, then I drove home still drunk (I was almost 16).
Caffeine is another issue: it gives me a migraine. I would like to have the benefits of drinking coffee, even though coffee tastes horrible.