Before you read this, let me say that I am NOT minimizing the devastating impact and painful aspects of cancer or any other chronic or terminal disease. Moreover, progress is being made in accepting alcoholism and addiction as a disease and thus the compassion for those who suffer from it. This is for discussion and meant to set a certain perspective up for view here.
If someone has cancer and they don’t treat it, most likely they’ll die. If someone with cancer is in remission, and their cancer returns, its sad and people support them unconditionally.
If someone has alcoholism and they don’t treat it, most likely they’ll die. I know, I see it all the time. Yet, if someone with alcoholism stays sober for a while then drinks again, they’ve “fallen off the wagon“, “don’t want it bad enough” , “have no will-power“, “or just aren’t ready.”
I say bullshit. Can you imagine someone saying that to a cancer patient who’s cancer returns? “Guess they’re not ready and or just don’t want it bad enough…”
With shows such as A&E’s Intervention, the public perception of alcoholism and addiction is changing. This is a good thing, especially since it is making it more acceptable for those who have issues with addiction to ask for help.
The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (NIAAA) a part of the National Institutes of Health, answers the question:
Is alcoholism a disease?
Yes, alcoholism is a disease. The craving that an alcoholic feels for alcohol can be as strong as the need for food or water. An alcoholic will continue to drink despite serious family, health, or legal problems.
Like many other diseases, alcoholism is chronic, meaning that it lasts a person’s lifetime; it usually follows a predictable course; and it has symptoms. The risk for developing alcoholism is influenced both by a person’s genes and by his or her lifestyle. (See also “Publications,” Alcohol Alert No. 30: Diagnostic Criteria for Alcohol Abuse and Dependence.)
A Look at The Disease Concept from An Alcoholic
Even though in treatment I was told alcoholism was a disease, it was hard for me to accept. A part of me wanted to hold on to the idea that I could control my drinking, thus rejecting the entire disease concept. Each time I would end up at a new bottom, I slowly started to accept that maybe it was a disease after-all.
Finally, in my last treatment visit in March of 2006, I simply conceded to myself, that if I could start to accept the disease concept, maybe it meant I wasn’t a total peace of shit after-all. Now this may seem sort of like a paradox, that by blaming my terrible alcoholic actions on a disease, I’m avoiding responsibility. Or maybe this is just an alcoholic getting into their head too much, but for me it was an important step towards recovery.
I had such low-self esteem as the result living years of self-destructive behavior. Now, it’s important to point out that this is NOT what I showed on the inside. And for the most part, not what I believed about myself on the inside. Alcoholism is the only disease that continually tries to convince those who suffer from it that they DO NOT have it. Conversely, I had what I was showing the world on the outside, confused with what I was feeling on the inside. As long as I had my shit together, I was OK. Truth was, inside I was dying a slow painful death. I can clearly look back and see that about myself today. Compared to the peace and happiness I have inside today, it’s night and day.
There’s some dialog in the movie 28 Days that sort of puts into perspective the mindset of an alcoholic or addict. The person speaking is Steve Bushimi’s character, Cornell:
“If that will make you happy, I will stop drinking. And then I would tell myself tonight I will not get wasted. And then something would happen. Or nothing would happen. And I’d get that feeling and you all know what that feeling is; when your skin is screaming and your hands are shaking and your stomach feels like it wants to jump through your throat. And you know that if anyone had a clue how wrong it felt to be sober, they wouldn’t dream of asking you to stay that way. They would say oh geez, I didn’t know. It’s okay for you. Do that mound of cocaine. Have a drink. Have 20 drinks. Whatever you need to do to feel like a normal human being, you do it. And boy I did it. I drank and I snorted. I drank and snorted. I drank and snorted. And I did this day after day, day after day, night after night. I didn’t care about the consequences because I knew they couldn’t be half as bad as not using. And then one night something happened. I woke up. I woke up on a sidewalk and I had no idea where I was. I couldn’t have told you what city I was in. And my head was pounding and I looked down and my shirt is covered in blood. And as I’m lying there wondering what happens next and I heard a voice. And it said man, this is not a way to live. This is a way to die.”
Many nights I prayed for cancer. As I write this, I feel that maybe those who have been deeply affected by cancer think I’m making light of their fear, pain, suffering, and struggles. How could someone wish that? The alcoholic depression, fear, and self-loathing was so much I prayed for death. I slept under a bridge with hopes of being mugged. I would walk through the seedy part of downtown with my bag of liquor and nice wool coat, thinking how easy it would be if someone just robbed and shot me dead. And I prayed that I would die in my sleep or get cancer. At least with cancer people would say, “that’s so terrible, he was a great guy” and I could get love and sympathy, OH, and drugs!! What a way to go. Drinking myself to death was just pathetic.
On the night of March 12th, 2006, I had finally ran out of alcohol and was too weak to walk the two blocks to the liquor store. Besides, the vodka just wouldn’t go down anymore. When the poison touched my throat, it burned and immediately sent my throat and esophagus into convulsions. I would try and follow it with water, but I couldn’t swallow it quick enough.
I had tried treatment centers a few times before and just figured I was too broken. Plus I owed them a lot of money already. Surely they wouldn’t take me back. So the way I saw it, I had two choices; suicide or try recovery again. Suicide was a real option and I totally understand why so many people choose it. Sometimes it’s better for people to just get some relief. What that said, I do think NOT committing suicide was one of the first real unselfish things I did.
One way or another, alcoholism will kill me if I leave it untreated. In recovery, I surround myself with people who understand the disease. Who won’t completely shut me out and judge me if I show symptoms of my disease. Symptoms like drinking. As I’m writing this, I haven’t had a drink in 1,334 days. Yes, there’s an “app” for that 
Some people…(OK, I’ve read and heard people say it so I know it’s out there)… believe that alcoholism treatment centers are only there to make money off information and programs most alcoholics and addicts can get for free through AA or NA. As I’ve said before, Alcoholism Treatment centers are great places for discovery, but recovery happens as a result of the type of program you work when you get out of treatment. True long-term sobriety comes from spiritual and holistic growth, however you go about getting that.
The amazing thing about recovery and the disease of alcoholism, is that as I help others and become a useful member of society “AS” a recovered alcoholic, I represent those who are still drinking and have a chance. I sponsor a lot of guys, sometimes more than others, and the majority of them go back out. Many come back, and some I never hear from again. But I always tell them the same thing if and when they come back, “just stay alive.” As long as you’re alive, there’s a chance.
photo credit: David Paul Ohmer