Day Two—OMG!!! Detox symptoms had kicked in. I NEEDED a drink, no, LOTS of drinks. My body started to shake, my heart rate rose until I thought it was coming out of my body. All I wanted to do was vomit and crawl up into a ball and die.
Luckily, the place was CRAWLING with Dr.’s, so when I cried out, they came. Drug after drug entered my body in the hopes to relieve some of my suffering. This was really the first time that I realized the severe damage I had done to myself.
Eating was impossible. Even trying to drink liquids became a thing of the past. Ginger Ale seemed to be the ONLY thing I could keep down, and even THAT burned like the strongest acid, turning my stomach to mush.
Anxiety was daily and my mind, once sharp as a tack, became muddled like Jell-O on STEROIDS. Needless to say I was a mess. At this point, I wondered if I had made the right decision, but then, I remembered my mother dying of this horrible disease and realized that I did NOT want to go through the same horrible nightmare.
Day after day, I experienced the same routine; get up, puke, try and eat, puke some more, CURSE like a DRUNKEN sailor not getting sex, and then back to the drugs. Life was just a bowl of cherries. Was I REALLY doing this?
Group therapy I enjoyed, it was very helpful hearing the different trigger points causing others to drink. Interestingly, people came here from all walks of life, from the wealthy celebrities, to regular working people, alcoholism plays no favorites.
What I thought was interesting was almost everyone here came from a background of alcohol abuse in their immediate family. The information I gained from these sessions was invaluable and helped me to realize that I was where I NEEDED to be.
To be continued…