Two Hikers
I think my reputation at rehab was that I was a man of few words. Or that I leaned on the gallows humor maybe more than was appropriate. Before my counselor gave me my certificate I was supposed to address the group: “I’m really grateful for all of this. I’ll miss you guys, but I think I’ll see some of you in CC.” CC stands for continuing care. “I’m happy to be 67 days sober. I think about Taft Bridge less and less, so that’s good.” A few people who had been in the group with me since the beginning knew what the last part meant.
I got a new gig gardening and landscaping around DC. I love it, and it’s good for me to stay busy and focused and get my hands dirty under the sun and sky. But as the weather gets nicer, more and more drinkers are spilling outside, onto their stoops and patios. I think I would give just about anything to have a brain that allowed me to have a couple beers or a glass of wine and then leave it at that. Today when I was putting down mulch I wondered when they’ll come up with a surgical procedure or a pill that could fix that. I wondered why they haven’t already.
“I just want to keep getting healthy,” I told the group. “And I want my brain to keep healing. It’s like a richter scale and for the last 15 years it’s been at a flat, mostly blissful flat line, and now without booze it’s just — ” I waved my hand up and down dramatically. “And then as it smooths out and gets used to there not being alcohol it’ll go back to what it’s supposed to be.” I slowly lifted my hand up and down a few inches. “Which is what it was supposed to be that whole time. It’ll probably take a little while though. I get that.”
One of my favorite jokes is about the two hikers who are out in the middle of the woods, when all of a sudden they see a huge grizzly bear right in front of them. So, scared shitless, they start running away and miracle of all miracles they find a cabin, and make it in before the bear gets them. But the bear starts beating against the wall, and the wood is splintering and the wall is coming apart and it’s just a matter of time before the bear gets in and kills them. So one hiker grips the doorknob and tells his friend they’re gonna have to make a run for it. His friend says, “Are you crazy? You can’t outrun a grizzly bear.” And the other hiker says, “I don’t need to outrun the bear, I just need to outrun you.”
Alcoholism caught up with me years and years ago. I guess technically, it had me the day I was born. And there’s no point in trying to outrun it. But if I can just beat one day without drinking, and a week, and a month, six months, a year. That’s what I have to do. And then maybe by then scientists will have invented that pill.
