Gradually. That's what the doctor tells me. Gradually I will get worse. My liver will gradually fail; my arthritis will gradually turn my hands crooked.
So gradually, you mean, I'm dying? Isn't that bullshit? Could there be something worse for me to hear? So gradually since the age of 13, I've been killing myself. That first drink, to the last, I "gradually" ruined my insides? All because my parents failed to tell me what drinking really does to you? So it's my fault that during summers, parties, college, and beyond, that I "enjoyed" my life while ruining it at the same time? Yes. That's exactly it. My own fault.
No one can tell me it gets better. No one can tell me there's a cure. "An abnormality in the liver." "Could be anything." No, really, drinking for 365 days straight will cause an "abnormality," I'm not dumb. "Maybe the blood test will prove different." I think, maybe not. Until that blood test...
Yikes! But, hell, we all die don't we? So what's the point of getting there in a mediocre fashion? Better to be great, no? Or at least have a ball while we're at it?
We do all die, some faster than others. This story being kind-of true, I'm healthier than this story suggests, thank goodness. But, yes, it's better to be great, while having a ball. : )
I'm 34 and live in NY.
and these are my stories...(insert Law & Order sound here)...