More Memories

Relapse:  To slip or fall back into a former condition, especially after improvement or seeming improvement.


My friend's death has stirred up some old memories.  I remember going to visit him once in the Old City when he was in the middle of another relapse.  Normally, I don't go to see people who are actively drinking without bringing another sober alcoholic along -- and I recommend that you don't, either -- but I had a long history with this guy so I made an exception.  He was still doing well financially at that point and had purchased a nice home in a very nice neighborhood with a nice garage to park his very, very nice cars.  I had called him the previous morning and wondered if he would like to get together.  He suggested the following day,  saying that he had been drinking and wouldn't be a good host.  It was 9 in the morning.  I wasn't in the least surprised.


I stopped by the next day.  His house was beautiful and well appointed, immaculate, and devoid of any personal touches.  It felt like all of the oxygen had been removed.  It was soulless and cold and the air was rotten with human misery.  While I realize that I'm a great exaggerator most of the time this really is my recollection.  It was really quite eerie.  It had a haunted aspect to it, that house, like something had died somewhere, which wasn't far from the truth.  I was totally creeped out.


My friend was drinking, of course, the brave resolve of the previous day long gone.  He had a can of that Australian beer that looks like it's in a 50 gallon drum and he was chain smoking cigarettes.    He was taking no pleasure from either habit.  He appeared to me to be a guy hooked up to a dialysis machine or receiving chemotherapy.  This was something he was doing because he had to do it, not because he wanted to do it.  He would pick up his cigarette and take these incredibly long drags.  I swear he smoked each one in about 4 puffs.  It was fascinating watching it.  I couldn't fathom where all of the smoke was going.  It was the same with the beer: a few deep pulls on the can, then off to the kitchen for another.


I had felt some mild disquiet before I walked in the door which evaporated immediately.  I try not to pity another person because I think it can be a condescending emotion but I pitied this man.  I really saw the truth in the axiom that for a Real Alcoholic who continues to drink there are 3 possible outcomes: death, insanity, or an institution.  


"Is this bothering you?" he asked after a few minutes.


I didn't know what to say for a couple of beats.
"Are you kidding me"? I finally asked.  "Do you think this looks good?  Do you think this is tempting me?"


I don't remember if he answered.  I left not long after that.  I was obviously making him uncomfortable and I had seen all I needed to see.  I wanted to help but I knew that was a fool's errand.  It's a bitch getting sober if you're all in; it's not possible if you want to hole up and drink alone.


They say that when a suffering alcoholic is given the option of accepting a spiritual solution or dying a slow, miserable, solitary death,  the response is often: "Can I get back to you on that?"


Rest in Peace.