Pickling A Liver

I’ve been attending AA meetings at the Federal Prison Camp (FPC) for five weeks. I started AA the same week I surrendered, and it’s been an invaluable source for dealing with alcohol, self-control, and accountability. I have always considered myself a reasonably intelligent guy. I did well in school, graduated college, and operated a successful business for 20 years before joining the solidarity of inmates at FPC. Then I started taking AA more seriously.

I’ve been consuming libations since I was eighteen years old, started abusing liquor in my mid-thirties, and hit it hard when I became the subject of a government investigation and subsequent federal prosecution. I landed on a six-pack of beer or bottle of liquor, usually a modestly priced bottle of wine, but Jameson would do when the wine ran out. I would work while drinking the six-pack and ended the evening with the bottle. This was the routine in the months before sentencing in my case.

My wife became concerned and made me swear to quit and find help. I chose AA as the place to start, and it worked for the first few months, four months to be exact, and then I surrendered to the FPC. I thought it would become easier, but I was terribly wrong. The craving began anew and intensified.

I found a meeting the first week I was at the camp and have been attending meetings three times per week. I am thankful for the group of men I found. The breakthrough finally came. Remember, I’m a reasonably intelligent man, but I didn’t see this coming. I was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver several years ago, and I stopped drinking to cure the condition, much to the delight of my doctor. I was happy too. I cured my liver and celebrated with a few vodka tonics that evening. It was wonderful to be cured and I start enjoying the bottle again.

Last week at AA at the FPC I came clean and was taken to task about my addition. It was a simple question, “What sane person would start drinking again after cirrhosis of the liver?” I thought nothing about it until that moment. It was crazy? What was I doing? I knew better than to keep abusing my body with alcohol, but I wanted another drink. I ignored the obvious and rationalized my behavior as the normal thing to do. It never occurred to me that I was deceiving myself. Alcohol is cunning. It outsmarted me, and I didn’t think it was irrational. How wrong I was.

The craving for the next drink rages on in my mind. I am not sure I’d turn away either if offered a drink. I continue to tell myself ... just one drink won’t hurt, but I know myself. It would lead to another, and then another, and then another. It is troubling to know this about myself and finally admit it. The honesty is freeing and burdensome at the same moment. I have more work to do and AA revealed the revelation of cirrhosis in my life, but what’s next? I want the next drink and realize I must quit. It continues to be a struggle.