Monday, May 3, 2010

Remission

I'm not really sure what remission means...I know if you have cancer remission is a good thing. However I am going to portray it in a completely different light.

Remission re·mis·sion noun- a temporary or permanent decrease or subsidence of manifestations of a disease.


A decrease of manifestations of a disease, that sounds like a particularly good thing. You had a problem and now it is at least temporarily gone. What if you problem is that you are a full blown alcoholic Thursday-Saturday. I would argue that during those 72 or so odd hours you are at the height of your disease; poisoning your body to the extent of slurred speech, loss of body functions and the systematic shutdown of many of your bodies core proccesses. However, during these intense periods of "disease" I feel like I could fight a Polar Bear in heat and/or beat Bobby Fischer in chess. I'm a fucking rockstar. Now just becaus my liquid confidence dictates that when embibed I can bring any karaoke crowd to its knees and pick-up any girl at any bar; this is not the issue at hand. When I am tanked I physically feel great, have more energy than an ADD 6 yr old and can party until 5 in the morning.

Then I wake up Sunday morning in a pile of my own urine/blood/vomit laying on a broken mirror in my closet with a tattoo that reads "I <3 black cock" on my forehead and I enter a state of remission. The toxins, or af I have loosely based my metaphor, the "disease" is slowly leaving my body and I want...to fucking...die.

No cold shower, water, greasy food, sleep, blow job, Advil, uppers, downers, crying, Hugh Grant movies, Steak N Shake Milkshakes, or even a nice back rub from my roommate can do anything about it. It is a feeling so miserable that I cannot put it into words, I can only tell you to go drink a fifth of tequilla, eat 80 mg of Addy, do this 4 nights in a row and then tell me how you feel on the fifth.

Some call it withdrawl, some call it a hangover, some don't even realize they have a broken arm until days later because of the throbbing in their temples is so severe. Light, sound become unwelcome and the only thing that brings temporary relief is running your head under cold water or the knowledge that perhaps vomitting will somehow improve your current state. It won't...

But sometimes for the true soldiers of fortune out there, there is a cure. Drag yourself to the kitchen, or your local corner pub and try to put down a 32 degree light beer, bloody mary, or mimosa...it will be one of the most difficult things you ever do. The first one will be the hardest, but then 2, 3 and four will become exponentially easier...you slowly transform from "I'm never drinking again" to "I'm kind of thinking I should go to Stanley's tonight." And as you let the disease re-enter your body and that you get your confident swashbuckling swagger back, you will be sure of one thing...remission fucking sucks.

No comments:

Post a Comment