Alcohol and shock absorbers.

As the months went by after my illness, I found that beer REALLY tasted good. I was on meds for depression, due to the survivors guilt but I found that I felt better when I drank. I remember going to my friend Al's house in Frankfort in pain from the still regenerating nerves, and leaving feeling great. In between I usually drank around 16 beers. He eventually moved back to Charlevoix, and we had a place to party called "The Back Shop" It was a garage/workshop that was behind his mother's house. I hung out there with several friends every night, drinking and shooting the bull. It was simply a concrete oasis from the stresses of everyday life. We would play Quake 2, and other games on the computers during the afternoon, and drink all night.

The shop consisted of a couple of benches, 2 couches 2 chairs, a CD player, a TV various other things. The main attraction was the wood burning stove. Whoever manufactured this stove was a genius. Wood? Sure we burned it. Cardboard, yeah it burned. Electric can opener? Yeah, it burned too.

Yeah. An electric can opener.

We would burn it all. We didn't care what it was. If it put off heat, we burned it. There could be a raging blizzard outside, and we would always be warm. Now, we drank. ALOT back there. Our drinks of choice were Icehouse Beer, Ice Hole Schnapps, 99 Bananas and Aftershock. Of course, we would mix it up but we never had anything go to waste.

We would push the limits of that poor stove. On several occasions, that shop should have exploded from the intense heat that stove put off. Shock absorber? Sure! It was funny when it expanded denting the side of the stove. We always prided ourselves on not killing that damned thing.

One night, we decided to put a motorcycle tire in there. We of course were beyond drunk, but it was so cold and snowy, we just wanted to crank it up.

So in it went.

Within 2 minutes a raging fire was cranked up. Then it got stronger.....and stronger....and STRONGER. The heat was almost too intense. Then the stove started to bulge. The roar from the flames were intense. We went outside only to look up and see fire jetting from the pipe like a rocket booster. We of course thought this was funny, until we came to a realization that the place could easily explode. We ran into the shop and grabbed a shovel. We scooped snow from outside directly onto the stove. Oh man was it insane. Steam filled the shop like a sauna as we dumped pile after pile of snow over the now glowing stove. Finally, after about 15 minutes we had it "under control". Truth is I think we just accepted the fact that we could not control what happened, and sat back and drank. It had to be 90 in the shop.  The stove survived. The shop survived and we survived. For several years after, I drank alot. It started taking it's toll but I kept drinking. I had always had a VERY hard time accepting that I had lived.

One morning I woke up, and thought I was going to die. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest, and I didn't think I was going to live. My body had finally had enough, and it was saying "Enough is enough."

I stopped drinking that day. I sat back and looked at my life, and decided I was NOT going to waste the gift that I was given after I almost croaked.

All of this time I had no idea that my GBS still had one final surprise left for me. I had been slowly killing myself with alcohol because of a health issue that was lurking in my heart, and it was about to make it's presence known.

Tune in tomorrow and see if I live to eat nachos!