Thursday, July 19, 2007

Surrounded by Assassins


Have you ever had one of those days where from the time you got up in the morning until the time you put your head on the pillow at night, everyone you ran into was out to get you?

I’m not talking paranoia either. I’m talking solid irrefutable proof that people were out to just kill you. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I just had one of those days. A day that just felt like I had been chewed up, swallowed, puked back up, stepped and then rained on.

There is a bright side to those kinds of days. You realize you cannot be any farther down without being dead. It’s a comforting thought to mulder (combination of ponder and muse) as you down a couple of Jose Cuervo Blacks over ice, and suck desperately on a cigarette when you haven’t smoked in 10 years.

(Sidebar: Jose Cuervo Black. A woman in my office recommended it to me. There are literally NO WORDS to express the look on her face as she described how beautifully f’ed up it got her. As she was glorifying her drunken state, one of the dietary aides came in and heard what we were saying. His eyes got huge. He pointed to his head and shook it violently. “Jose,” he cried terrified in broken English. “Jose Black – bad. Terrible head. Makes head terrible. NO! NO!” He exited quickly as though the sheer memory was too much for him to bear.)

Anyway, I was thinking about terrible days and how we, as functioning adults, handle them. I’m sure some meditate. Some pray. Some take a moment of reflection and try to get a handle on their own emotions. Others, like me, stop for a pack of cigs and Snickers on the way home and yank out the booze as soon as their foot hits the damn doorway.

Yes, I know I’ll regret it. Yes, I know I shouldn’t. Yes, I know it’s BAD for me. But here’s a scenario inspired by Dr. Dean Ornish’s book, “Love and Survival”:

Doctor, Doctor, Mr. M.D.: Lara, you have heart disease, panic attacks. Smoking is verboten. Drinking in excess is NOT good for you. WHY, why are you doing this to yourself? Do you know that smoking and drinking can cut YEARS off your life? That eating high fat treats can literally kill you?

Lara: Doc, what the hell do I care about living an extra couple of years if I can’t get my shit through TODAY?

Doctor, Doctor, Mr. M.D.: ahh, um, well, eh…uh………….

No comeback. I retorted him right back into his Mensa corner. Years of medical school and training---right down the hopper. Oh sure, he could give me prescriptions for Xanax and Zoloft and Cymbalta and Wellbutrin and Paxil and Prozac and Ativan – but he won’t. They are dangerous when abused and addictive and….oh, just like alcohol and cigarettes. Oops.

I firmly believe that emerging alive after a good alcohol/cigarette hangover gives us incredible incentives to live again. That life is good. You show me anyone who isn’t grateful to be alive 24 hours after a head banging, porcelain grabbing, gasping for life hangover….Right?

So embrace your need for crutches now and again. It’s ok. Nobody’s perfect.

Least of all me.

2 comments:

DSB said...

Thanks for stopping by my blog earlier!

I haven't recently had as bad a day as you, but I did recently have a night where I came home immediately and couldn't even breathe right without downing a stiff one. I get that way sometimes.

Hope your week gets better!

This Eclectic Life said...

"mulder" is a good new word that you got out of the deal. Sorry the day was that bad. Yes, I've had them, but I don't meditate. I don't often drink about them either. In fact, I haven't pondered what I do...hmmm.

Hope it's all better now.