This year I...
1. Got accused of being a terrorist
2. Finally finally got my wish for a niece
3. Learned to crochet and produced 4 blankets
4. I met Eddie, the cat of my life, only to lose him when he moved away (still sad about that by the way)
5. Broke someone’s heart.
6. Moved in with Dorothy
7. I had an exhibition with my fellow Stitchettes
8. I signed up to the cult of Weightwatchers and kinda lost an awful lot of weight (4 stone so far!)
9. I, you know, nearly died and stuff.
10. Saw more snow than I have ever seen in my whole life
11. Visited a new part of France
12. Fell in love again
13. Started a new blog (you’re totally reading it!)
14. Spent time with American Girl and American Boy for the first time in nearly 2 years (how was that a year ago already?!)
15. Watched someone pass away (the ex’s Grandmother)
16. Hosted my first ever giveaway on my old blog (I really need to do that again you know - next year I promise)
17. Saw Flight of the Conchords and Goldfrapp in concert
18. Got a better idea of who my real friends are.
19. Met Roy Hattersley and Henry Winkler (as you do)
20. Visited Blackpool for the first time
21. Saw one of my best friend’s get married
22. Babysat for guinea pigs for the very first time
23. Walked across the Humber Bridge for the very first time
24. Discovered that the gym wasn’t that scary after all and discovered the delights of Zumba.
All in all, not too shabby I reckon. Here's hoping 2011 is not quite as eventful!
Showing posts with label Warfarin wafflings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Warfarin wafflings. Show all posts
Thursday, 30 December 2010
Tuesday, 16 November 2010
A letter to my anti-coagulant.
Dear Warfarin,
I just thought I’d drop you a note to say goodbye and wish you well.
Oh didn’t you know? Our 6 months are now officially up and it is time for us to part ways. I’m sure you’re not too upset about it we haven’t had the best of relationships have we?
Remember when we first met in hospital? Those were fun days weren’t they? Days of excruciating pain in my chest, a tube up my nose and chillin’ with the old ladies. Those times were good and we were pretty good mates, I mean really it was all down to you that I got to leave wasn’t it? I had to wait until my blood was thin enough and you did the job – I wasn’t too worried about how we were going to get along at all.
But then. Then I came home and you decided you hated me and that you weren’t going to make my blood thin enough and that meant I had to stab myself in the stomach and it hurt and it freaked me out and it left me all bruised and gross and then I had a complete moment of madness and actually posted a blog entry with a photo of my stomach on it (still no idea what I was thinking about there).
I know that things got better but we have most definitely had our ups and downs. Remember when you stopped me drinking alcohol? Yeah....that was fun. In 6 months I’ve been drunk on 2 occasions. I am displeased with those odds to be honest. Although I feel I should extend thanks your way for getting me to look at and re-assess my drinking habits and why I do drink. That has been a useful lesson and I hope I don’t forget it but I won’t lie, I’m going to get incredibly drunk at the wedding this weekend and mostly just because I can.
I won’t miss too much about our INR appointments. I won’t miss the fact that despite the nurse telling me I would probably end up only having to go once every 2 months, it was never more than once every 2 weeks and more often it was once every single week because my INR just refused to stay stable. It was up and down like a jack in the box and they never seemed to be able to figure out why (although the weight loss is probably a prime suspect). No matter how hard you tried you just didn’t seem to get my blood thin enough did you? That’s why I ended up on a stonkingly big dose of you. 12mg. That’s a lot in case you didn’t know, most people seem to get somewhere between 4-6mg of you daily – why did I need so much of you?
I won’t lie though, you have been a source of comfort to me. At least when I was taking you I knew that my blood was going to be thin. Ok, so not as thin as they would have liked, but still thinner than normal. And I knew that as long as I was with you, someone would be keeping an eye on me. So I do feel upset that we’re parting ways because due to the incredibly sub-standard care I’ve received from the NHS no-one is going to be watching out for me from now on. You were there after all when the Doctors told me several times that I would be with you for 6 months and then they would do a Thrombophilia test because of my family history to check that I wasn’t at a risk of developing more clots. Do you remember that?
Shame they don’t remember or didn’t write it down on my notes because they’re now denying they ever said it. So despite the family history of developing embolisms and DVTs out of nowhere and despite the fact that a healthy 27 year old shouldn’t randomly get blood clots on her lungs, they’ve basically told me where to go. That’s a shame really isn’t it?
Thankfully I’ve found a saviour. I’m going to be taking part in a study for a year for a different anti-coagulant. They want to see if this drug will be useful for people like me who have had random clots and are therefore at risk of getting them again – hopefully in the future they will complete their 6 months of Warfarin and then be put on this drug for another year to make sure they’re ok. Although it’s nice to be part of something that’s trying to advance medical knowledge, I’m mostly doing it because I’m scared and this way someone’s going to be checking to make sure I don’t die.
Don’t be jealous. This new guy isn’t really your replacement. No-one can ever replace you, you kind of saved my life and for that I’m ever go grateful.
(But this guy’s pretty cool, makes sure my blood is thin (if I haven’t got the placebo that is, this is a double-blind study), there are no restrictions to what I can eat and I can drink until my liver fails.)
Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for everything, I know we haven’t always been the best of friends but I’d hate to discount what you’ve done for me.
I hope you don't think me rude if I say that I hope I don't see you again.
Lots of love
The Girl
I just thought I’d drop you a note to say goodbye and wish you well.
Oh didn’t you know? Our 6 months are now officially up and it is time for us to part ways. I’m sure you’re not too upset about it we haven’t had the best of relationships have we?
Remember when we first met in hospital? Those were fun days weren’t they? Days of excruciating pain in my chest, a tube up my nose and chillin’ with the old ladies. Those times were good and we were pretty good mates, I mean really it was all down to you that I got to leave wasn’t it? I had to wait until my blood was thin enough and you did the job – I wasn’t too worried about how we were going to get along at all.
But then. Then I came home and you decided you hated me and that you weren’t going to make my blood thin enough and that meant I had to stab myself in the stomach and it hurt and it freaked me out and it left me all bruised and gross and then I had a complete moment of madness and actually posted a blog entry with a photo of my stomach on it (still no idea what I was thinking about there).
I know that things got better but we have most definitely had our ups and downs. Remember when you stopped me drinking alcohol? Yeah....that was fun. In 6 months I’ve been drunk on 2 occasions. I am displeased with those odds to be honest. Although I feel I should extend thanks your way for getting me to look at and re-assess my drinking habits and why I do drink. That has been a useful lesson and I hope I don’t forget it but I won’t lie, I’m going to get incredibly drunk at the wedding this weekend and mostly just because I can.
I won’t miss too much about our INR appointments. I won’t miss the fact that despite the nurse telling me I would probably end up only having to go once every 2 months, it was never more than once every 2 weeks and more often it was once every single week because my INR just refused to stay stable. It was up and down like a jack in the box and they never seemed to be able to figure out why (although the weight loss is probably a prime suspect). No matter how hard you tried you just didn’t seem to get my blood thin enough did you? That’s why I ended up on a stonkingly big dose of you. 12mg. That’s a lot in case you didn’t know, most people seem to get somewhere between 4-6mg of you daily – why did I need so much of you?
I won’t lie though, you have been a source of comfort to me. At least when I was taking you I knew that my blood was going to be thin. Ok, so not as thin as they would have liked, but still thinner than normal. And I knew that as long as I was with you, someone would be keeping an eye on me. So I do feel upset that we’re parting ways because due to the incredibly sub-standard care I’ve received from the NHS no-one is going to be watching out for me from now on. You were there after all when the Doctors told me several times that I would be with you for 6 months and then they would do a Thrombophilia test because of my family history to check that I wasn’t at a risk of developing more clots. Do you remember that?
Shame they don’t remember or didn’t write it down on my notes because they’re now denying they ever said it. So despite the family history of developing embolisms and DVTs out of nowhere and despite the fact that a healthy 27 year old shouldn’t randomly get blood clots on her lungs, they’ve basically told me where to go. That’s a shame really isn’t it?
Thankfully I’ve found a saviour. I’m going to be taking part in a study for a year for a different anti-coagulant. They want to see if this drug will be useful for people like me who have had random clots and are therefore at risk of getting them again – hopefully in the future they will complete their 6 months of Warfarin and then be put on this drug for another year to make sure they’re ok. Although it’s nice to be part of something that’s trying to advance medical knowledge, I’m mostly doing it because I’m scared and this way someone’s going to be checking to make sure I don’t die.
Don’t be jealous. This new guy isn’t really your replacement. No-one can ever replace you, you kind of saved my life and for that I’m ever go grateful.
(But this guy’s pretty cool, makes sure my blood is thin (if I haven’t got the placebo that is, this is a double-blind study), there are no restrictions to what I can eat and I can drink until my liver fails.)
Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for everything, I know we haven’t always been the best of friends but I’d hate to discount what you’ve done for me.
I hope you don't think me rude if I say that I hope I don't see you again.
Lots of love
The Girl
Goodbye Warfarin - goodbyyyyyyyyeeeeee!!
(For those who like to know these things, pink = 5mg, blue = 3 mg and brown = 1mg)
Monday, 1 November 2010
Post hen do
I am a broken woman.
The hen do was amazing and Sheffield didn’t know what had hit it but I feel like some kind of casualty of war.
I ache from my head to my feet. My neck hurts but I have no idea why, did it buckle under the pressure of all the hairspray keeping my hair up? My feet hurt, one of them sporting a rather wonderful bruise which was the result of getting in the way of some exuberant dance moves from the Hen. My hamstrings hurt, although this is unsurprising given that I danced solidly for 5/6 hours straight, sitting down was for wusses apparently.
I’m pretty sure that even my fingers hurt.
I couldn’t even tell you if I was hungover yesterday or not (yes I did break the Warfarin rules and drink my little socks off. Fancy dress requires drinks I’m afraid). I can tell you that I was incredibly tired. Incredibly incredibly tired, most likely from the excessive dancing.
The extra hour should have helped us. It should have been an extra hour in bed. But instead we used it as an extra hour of drinking and dancing. My poor little body needed sleep, sleep and more sleep. I even fell asleep during the day, a never heard of activity if you’re me (even if it only was for 30 minutes).
The cold which has been lurking about for weeks and weeks has taken advantage of my run down immune system and is trying to invade my whole body, the lungs have been the first to capitulate and I’m hoping I’m not seeing the return of the cough that irritated and annoyed me for 18 months, only to disappear when I had the embolism. But my body (and more importantly my brain) are telling it to just bugger off, I don’t have time to be ill thank you very much so you might as well just leave.
But was it worth it?
Absolutely baby.
Now excuse me while I curl up in a ball somewhere.
The hen do was amazing and Sheffield didn’t know what had hit it but I feel like some kind of casualty of war.
I ache from my head to my feet. My neck hurts but I have no idea why, did it buckle under the pressure of all the hairspray keeping my hair up? My feet hurt, one of them sporting a rather wonderful bruise which was the result of getting in the way of some exuberant dance moves from the Hen. My hamstrings hurt, although this is unsurprising given that I danced solidly for 5/6 hours straight, sitting down was for wusses apparently.
I’m pretty sure that even my fingers hurt.
I couldn’t even tell you if I was hungover yesterday or not (yes I did break the Warfarin rules and drink my little socks off. Fancy dress requires drinks I’m afraid). I can tell you that I was incredibly tired. Incredibly incredibly tired, most likely from the excessive dancing.
The extra hour should have helped us. It should have been an extra hour in bed. But instead we used it as an extra hour of drinking and dancing. My poor little body needed sleep, sleep and more sleep. I even fell asleep during the day, a never heard of activity if you’re me (even if it only was for 30 minutes).
The cold which has been lurking about for weeks and weeks has taken advantage of my run down immune system and is trying to invade my whole body, the lungs have been the first to capitulate and I’m hoping I’m not seeing the return of the cough that irritated and annoyed me for 18 months, only to disappear when I had the embolism. But my body (and more importantly my brain) are telling it to just bugger off, I don’t have time to be ill thank you very much so you might as well just leave.
But was it worth it?
Absolutely baby.
Now excuse me while I curl up in a ball somewhere.
Friday, 27 August 2010
One night in Torbaydos a.k.a. The Night I Fell Off the Wagon.
My problem is that I'm not very good at exercising self restraint. The phrases "I'll just have one" or "I'll just have a small bit" just don't seem to appear in my vocabulary. I'm an all or nothing girl. That's why it's just safer to not surround myself with temptation. It's best for me not to buy a multipack of crisps so they last me for the week. Because they won't last me for the week. They'll last for 2 days, maybe 3 if I'm lucky. I can't buy a packet of biscuits without shoving the whole lot in my mouth so it's easier to just not buy biscuits. I had hoped that now I'm eating much more sensibly I would somehow miraculously discover the ability to not plough my way through a massive bag of Sensations in one go but so far that hasn't happened.
The same rule used to apply for alcohol. I'm your classic binge drinker. I will never have just one glass of wine. I'll have 1case bottle instead. I've never been the kind of person that will go "Ooh I'll have a lovely glass of wine in the bath". Nope. I drank to get drunk. If it wasn't a big night out, that was fine, I just wouldn't drink, I had no interest in just having one glass of wine, I'm not desperate for the taste of alcohol. In some ways this has been useful since going on the warfarin because it's meant that, to be honest, I haven't missed alcohol that much - I only drank once in a Sheffield flood, it just happened that when I drank, I drank.
I've been lucky in that I have a friend who is also a warfarin addict so I've been able to turn to her for advice. I asked her how she coped on big nights out when she was the only one sober and she informed me that she was a bad girl who, on those nights when it was a big occasion, she would just not take her warfarin, have a drink and hope that the alcohol thinned her blood out enough. I was dubious. I am a rule follower after all and the Doctor said I could only have one drink.
But.
I went down to Torquay. I knew that drinking would be involved. And, seeing as my INR has stabilised a little bit in the past month or so (hurray!) I decided that I would try this little bit of trickery out. I would forgo my warfarin, have a few drinks instead of just the one glass of wine and everything would be alright. I did feel a little dubious about it but my cousin assured me that everything would be fine and she is literally the only person I know that can use the phrase "Trust me, I'm a Doctor".
Except I forgot didn't I. I forgot that there was no way I was "just going to have an extra couple of glasses of wine". Because I can't do that.
And so I fell off the wagon.
And let me tell you. When I fall. I fall.
I was like Phil Mitchell getting addicted to crack. I was like a kid in toyshop. I was like a bunch of army lads on leave. I might as well have just asked for a top shelf drink. I managed to consume over one evening:
And I have no idea how many of the above I had.
I'm not proud. It was not big and it was most certainly not clever and my hangover the next day punished me (although I have to confess that I didn't feel more hungover than I would have been on any other big night out, I thought I would be much worse considering this would be the first time I'd had a mental night out since the beginning of May).
But more than that, I felt like crap because I knew that I was drinking for all the wrong reasons. I went back to my old ways of using alcohol as my safety blanket, as my secret confidence booster and I should know better than that, I should be able to handle myself in a group of strangers without being drunk. I've done alright with it so far but this night out was tough - I was surrounded by ridiculously good looking people and if they weren't good looking, they were clever and doing worthwhile jobs. It's bad enough that I was out with a load of Doctors but when the only other person who isn't a Doctor works with a freakin' bomb disposal unit in the army, you can start to feel more than a little pathetic that you do nothing really worthwhile with your life.
So I drank to care less that I was the fattest person there (and this is after losing 2.5 stone, if I'd been in this situation a few months previously I'd have probably ended the night by throwing myself in the harbour) and I drank to care less that I was having to talk to strangers, and I drank to make myself not care about either of these situations.
And I ended up becoming the person that I don't really like. I was like the person that I've been observing on my nights out when sober - I was too loud and probably obnoxious and my sarcasm levels went absolutely through the roof. My sarcasm can get me in trouble at the best of times but when I'm drunk the opportunities for me to come across as a complete bitch are many.
I won't lie. I had an amazing night. It was hilarious and I wouldn't change it for the world. It was just that afterwards, as the sea wind was blowing my hangover round my head, I realised that I don't want to go back to being that person. I don't want to go on a bender like that again. And I hope that this realisation is enough to finally knock the notion of self restraint in to my head.
I just need to find self-confidence some other way but have no idea how.
Reckon Phil Mitchell will lend me his crack pipe?
(Obviously joking. Don't do drugs kids)
The same rule used to apply for alcohol. I'm your classic binge drinker. I will never have just one glass of wine. I'll have 1
I've been lucky in that I have a friend who is also a warfarin addict so I've been able to turn to her for advice. I asked her how she coped on big nights out when she was the only one sober and she informed me that she was a bad girl who, on those nights when it was a big occasion, she would just not take her warfarin, have a drink and hope that the alcohol thinned her blood out enough. I was dubious. I am a rule follower after all and the Doctor said I could only have one drink.
But.
I went down to Torquay. I knew that drinking would be involved. And, seeing as my INR has stabilised a little bit in the past month or so (hurray!) I decided that I would try this little bit of trickery out. I would forgo my warfarin, have a few drinks instead of just the one glass of wine and everything would be alright. I did feel a little dubious about it but my cousin assured me that everything would be fine and she is literally the only person I know that can use the phrase "Trust me, I'm a Doctor".
Except I forgot didn't I. I forgot that there was no way I was "just going to have an extra couple of glasses of wine". Because I can't do that.
And so I fell off the wagon.
And let me tell you. When I fall. I fall.
I was like Phil Mitchell getting addicted to crack. I was like a kid in toyshop. I was like a bunch of army lads on leave. I might as well have just asked for a top shelf drink. I managed to consume over one evening:
- gin and tonics
- wine
- wine
- margarhitas
- jaegerbombers
- vodka and coke
And I have no idea how many of the above I had.
I'm not proud. It was not big and it was most certainly not clever and my hangover the next day punished me (although I have to confess that I didn't feel more hungover than I would have been on any other big night out, I thought I would be much worse considering this would be the first time I'd had a mental night out since the beginning of May).
But more than that, I felt like crap because I knew that I was drinking for all the wrong reasons. I went back to my old ways of using alcohol as my safety blanket, as my secret confidence booster and I should know better than that, I should be able to handle myself in a group of strangers without being drunk. I've done alright with it so far but this night out was tough - I was surrounded by ridiculously good looking people and if they weren't good looking, they were clever and doing worthwhile jobs. It's bad enough that I was out with a load of Doctors but when the only other person who isn't a Doctor works with a freakin' bomb disposal unit in the army, you can start to feel more than a little pathetic that you do nothing really worthwhile with your life.
Lots of good looking people + lots of talent = levels of self-loathing through the roof
So I drank to care less that I was the fattest person there (and this is after losing 2.5 stone, if I'd been in this situation a few months previously I'd have probably ended the night by throwing myself in the harbour) and I drank to care less that I was having to talk to strangers, and I drank to make myself not care about either of these situations.
And I ended up becoming the person that I don't really like. I was like the person that I've been observing on my nights out when sober - I was too loud and probably obnoxious and my sarcasm levels went absolutely through the roof. My sarcasm can get me in trouble at the best of times but when I'm drunk the opportunities for me to come across as a complete bitch are many.
I won't lie. I had an amazing night. It was hilarious and I wouldn't change it for the world. It was just that afterwards, as the sea wind was blowing my hangover round my head, I realised that I don't want to go back to being that person. I don't want to go on a bender like that again. And I hope that this realisation is enough to finally knock the notion of self restraint in to my head.
I just need to find self-confidence some other way but have no idea how.
Reckon Phil Mitchell will lend me his crack pipe?
(Obviously joking. Don't do drugs kids)
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
Two months in...
It’s now been about two months since The Big PE of 2010. Which also means it’s been the same amount of time since I said goodbye to my alcohol friend.
To be honest it’s not been that hard. Mainly because I’m your classic binge drinker. I could easily go for a few weeks without touching a drop, but when it came to a night out I’d make it my intention to make up for lost time.
Nevertheless the past couple of months have thrown up a few observations:
1. Company is key
A good friend of mine went through a period of a couple of years where she couldn’t drink because it would make her violently ill. I asked her how she coped with going out and being the only sober one and she said that a lot of it depended on who she was with. She was bang on.
If you’re with people who are nice and you get on well with, you won’t even notice that you’re the only one drinking. If you’re out with people who are awful the night will drag....and drag........and.....drag.
2. There is only so much Diet Coke you can drink
Fact. I’ve had to switch to water at some point in the night, or alternate between the two. There’s nothing that makes you feel like more of a pretentious boring twat than ordering a glass of water at the bar, at least when you have a coke you can pretend that there’s vodka in it and nobody is any the wiser but with water you are laid bare. Of course you could always pretend that you are so drunk you’ve had to switch to water.
3. Being trolleyed isn’t attractive
This has been rammed home to me with a sledgehammer. There’s nothing like cold sobriety to juxtapose extreme drunkenness. I’ve seen people, especially girls, be incredibly drunk and had that horrible feeling in the back of your mind where you think “Oh my god is that what I’m like when I’m drunk?....” It’s not a nice feeling. Whereas before I’d wake up with a stinking hangover and secretly feel a little bit cool for being so drunk the night before I now realise that I most definitely wasn’t cool and was probably more likely a loud-mouthed bint who was staggering all over the place and immensely annoying people with my witty repartee. Not a look I particularly want to go back to. If I ever do get to go out and drink again I’ll be taking a lot of care not to be that person.
4. Watch your mouth
Important to remember. You can’t get away with the old “Oh I didn’t know what I was saying I was so drunk last night” line. Other people’s tongues might be loosened once they’ve had a drink and this might encourage you to do the same. Stop. Think. Because in the morning you might regret being quite so honest with your opinion when you can’t hide behind the Long Island Iced Tea excuse.
5. Being sober is not easier on the wallet...
Seriously. I haven’t saved much more money by being sober. Soft drinks are ridiculously expensive and don’t get me started on the bar that wouldn’t give me tap water meaning I instead had to buy an incy wincy bottle of mineral water for nearly £3. Times like that I really wish I was still drinking. Being hammered meant that I could cope a little more with the rape and pillage of my bank account, when you don’t even have a hangover to show for your night out it makes me perversely resent spending the money that little bit more
Also. I’ve found myself caught up in buying rounds. Tricky because you don’t want to be the tightarse in the corner but does mean that you spend more money than you would like to because everyone else is on the wine. This is exacerbated by the fact that you don’t drink your soft drink/water as quickly as others drink their alcohol so you end up missing out on getting your drink back from someone else.
6. ...but might help your waistline
I don’t really know if this is true or not but it could be a contributory factor to my rather (in my opinion) impressive weight loss as of late (22lbs thank you very much. Man I had to fight with myself not to put that in massive capital letters). In WW speak, alcohol can be pretty hefty on the ol’ points side of things, diet coke and water on the other hand, is zero. Could be something in it.
---------------------
In summary, I think because my relationship with alcohol waskind of very unhealthy in the past, this experience has been, for the most part, a positive one. A re-education if you will.
But still. Sometimes. I’d give my right arm to feel that familiar dull ache behind my eyes on a Sunday morning which means you’ve had a cracker of a night before.
---------------------
(My INR rating, in case you were interested, (and obviously you are, why wouldn’t you be?) has been frankly all over the shop. We thought we’d cracked it when I had two readings which were between the correct range of 2 and 3 but my smugness was shortlived as it has since spiked up to a stonking 5.4, making me worried my blood was so thin I was going to start bleeding out of my eyes, before dropping to an annoyingly thick 1.6 in the space of a week. I’m back on Monday and fingers crossed it’s gone up a wee bit because I don’t want to have to start injecting Fragmin again and end up with a stomach looking like this again.)
To be honest it’s not been that hard. Mainly because I’m your classic binge drinker. I could easily go for a few weeks without touching a drop, but when it came to a night out I’d make it my intention to make up for lost time.
Nevertheless the past couple of months have thrown up a few observations:
1. Company is key
A good friend of mine went through a period of a couple of years where she couldn’t drink because it would make her violently ill. I asked her how she coped with going out and being the only sober one and she said that a lot of it depended on who she was with. She was bang on.
If you’re with people who are nice and you get on well with, you won’t even notice that you’re the only one drinking. If you’re out with people who are awful the night will drag....and drag........and.....drag.
2. There is only so much Diet Coke you can drink
Fact. I’ve had to switch to water at some point in the night, or alternate between the two. There’s nothing that makes you feel like more of a pretentious boring twat than ordering a glass of water at the bar, at least when you have a coke you can pretend that there’s vodka in it and nobody is any the wiser but with water you are laid bare. Of course you could always pretend that you are so drunk you’ve had to switch to water.
3. Being trolleyed isn’t attractive
This has been rammed home to me with a sledgehammer. There’s nothing like cold sobriety to juxtapose extreme drunkenness. I’ve seen people, especially girls, be incredibly drunk and had that horrible feeling in the back of your mind where you think “Oh my god is that what I’m like when I’m drunk?....” It’s not a nice feeling. Whereas before I’d wake up with a stinking hangover and secretly feel a little bit cool for being so drunk the night before I now realise that I most definitely wasn’t cool and was probably more likely a loud-mouthed bint who was staggering all over the place and immensely annoying people with my witty repartee. Not a look I particularly want to go back to. If I ever do get to go out and drink again I’ll be taking a lot of care not to be that person.
4. Watch your mouth
Important to remember. You can’t get away with the old “Oh I didn’t know what I was saying I was so drunk last night” line. Other people’s tongues might be loosened once they’ve had a drink and this might encourage you to do the same. Stop. Think. Because in the morning you might regret being quite so honest with your opinion when you can’t hide behind the Long Island Iced Tea excuse.
5. Being sober is not easier on the wallet...
Seriously. I haven’t saved much more money by being sober. Soft drinks are ridiculously expensive and don’t get me started on the bar that wouldn’t give me tap water meaning I instead had to buy an incy wincy bottle of mineral water for nearly £3. Times like that I really wish I was still drinking. Being hammered meant that I could cope a little more with the rape and pillage of my bank account, when you don’t even have a hangover to show for your night out it makes me perversely resent spending the money that little bit more
Also. I’ve found myself caught up in buying rounds. Tricky because you don’t want to be the tightarse in the corner but does mean that you spend more money than you would like to because everyone else is on the wine. This is exacerbated by the fact that you don’t drink your soft drink/water as quickly as others drink their alcohol so you end up missing out on getting your drink back from someone else.
6. ...but might help your waistline
I don’t really know if this is true or not but it could be a contributory factor to my rather (in my opinion) impressive weight loss as of late (22lbs thank you very much. Man I had to fight with myself not to put that in massive capital letters). In WW speak, alcohol can be pretty hefty on the ol’ points side of things, diet coke and water on the other hand, is zero. Could be something in it.
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In summary, I think because my relationship with alcohol was
But still. Sometimes. I’d give my right arm to feel that familiar dull ache behind my eyes on a Sunday morning which means you’ve had a cracker of a night before.
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(My INR rating, in case you were interested, (and obviously you are, why wouldn’t you be?) has been frankly all over the shop. We thought we’d cracked it when I had two readings which were between the correct range of 2 and 3 but my smugness was shortlived as it has since spiked up to a stonking 5.4, making me worried my blood was so thin I was going to start bleeding out of my eyes, before dropping to an annoyingly thick 1.6 in the space of a week. I’m back on Monday and fingers crossed it’s gone up a wee bit because I don’t want to have to start injecting Fragmin again and end up with a stomach looking like this again.)
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