Experience is the best teacher, but it doesn’t have to be…
That day I woke up at around 11 a.m feeling cold. Extremely cold. And I had a sore throat.
Me being the African I am, decided to boil lemons and down the juice with honey. Lots of lemons. I thought it was just another common cold episode.But I did not improve. In fact I only got worse.
Within two hours I was being rushed to hospital. My skin really hot and me shivering. I had a high fever.Turns out I had a pneumonia relapse AND hyper-acidity, not just because of the lemonade but also because whiskey had started consuming my insides months earlier.
Forget the pneumonia. It’s the whiskey manenos I want to talk about.
I was never a whiskey person. In fact, two tusker lagers used to be enough to send me on all fours. That was two years ago. And circa 1 year before the episode.Then I happened to discover Jameson. Oh the mighty Jameson. They claim that it is tripple distilled. And heck it is.
Started off with only a few shots once in a while, then several doubles while out clubbing. Then I started buying a bottle to take home, two, even three. Then I lost count.
Six months later, I was consuming 1 liter in two days. Never mind, my job allowed me to be indoors all day. Anytime was a drinking time.And I was quite philanthropic alcohol-wise. House parties every weekend at my place. Like 2 liters Jameson and a few more bottles of cheap whiskey. And meat and ugali. I would host like 10 folks in one sitting.My pocket was ever accommodating. Didn’t have many obligations. I was living large.But I was suffering unawares. I kept getting stomach upsets every now and then. I dismissed them and stocked enough Actal tabs, ENO and Omeprazol. Arent we doctors sometimes
Did I mention my pocket’s suffering? I had stopped saving and actually spent my savings. Had I kept up with the lifestyle, I would have started converting my business’ working capital into those green bottles containing that tripple distilled stuff.So after dealing with the hyper-acidity and pneumonia, I invited my crew over for one last party. Except only I knew that it was going to be the last.
It was rather funny that the first thing I did was call for a house party straight from being warned that I was staring at gastritis and ulcers if I continued drinking. Liver cirrhosis? Who knew!But at least i did not drink. I was armed with a ticket for very early morning flight, a pretty good excuse for not drinking. I urged them to drink like the apocalypse had just been declared!Tougher times were coming. And they did.
During my 4-day out of country I got me some time to reflect. And I did. And I came back and acted.And here I am, one year later. Slightly over half the house party crew is sitting quietly in the outer circle, maintaining essential contact. The remainder sits close by, encouraging me as I do them.
We got into an unwritten agreement to not quit drinking, but to drink less (often). To not spend all our monies on entertainment, but to entertain ourselves after saving. And of course to encourage each other along the way.And we could never be more proud now.
Some have settled into stable relationships
Others have moved out of toxic relationships and found something beautiful to live for.
Others have acquired assets to store their idle cash so that it is spared the green bottle’s wrath.
In short, we’re all happier and healthier than we have ever been before.
So I say, experience is the best teacher but it doesn’t have to be.
Why?:eek: