A bit of a blip, part 2
Kay was so freaked out about the how the trip was going and about her own behaviour that she'd managed to stop drinking. This made it easier for me - I only had to worry about myself. Unfortunately I'd got to the point where every cell in my body was screaming for alcohol. As soon as I'd flush out the booze with soft drinks and water I'd get chronic DT's. Puking and convulsions; it was astonishing how quickly I'd got back into full alcoholic mode. When you've been alcoholic for a few years your nervous system is ravaged. It feels like all the insulation has been stripped from around your nerves and they misfire like faulty wiring. It takes a few months to get back to normal; your liver is working at half capacity so poisons take a long time to leach out. I went to a chemist to buy some Librium. This is a drug they give you to calm DT's. It suppresses the central nervous system. The chemist didn't stock it. There were two women behind the counter laughing at me trying to explain what I wanted. I was miming throwing up, laughing as I faked a juddering convulsion. 'I have spoken to my Doctor in London, England. On his advice I have drunk two beers to stop me being sick. He told me to get some Librium or any other tranquilisers you might have.'They laughed some more. Tears were running down my face with hilarity and frustration. They were laughing because they thought it was all an elaborate plan to score tranquilisers and had no idea why I was bothering - they'd give me whatever I wanted anyway.
They pulled out a thick book of medicines; highlighted were the drugs they stocked. I didn't recogenize many of them but chose one that appeared to be similar to Valium. I went back to the hotel and washed a few down with some Heineken shandy. They didn't seem to do anything. I was in so much pain, I needed to be knocked out for a couple of days, to sleep through the withdrawal. I sent Kay out to get the strongest ones she could. She came back with four diffrent types, anti-psychotic, anti-schitzophrenic, even one that was for allieviating the shakes in Parkenson's disease sufferers. They were all strong, I was popping them like smarties. The next few days passed in a daze. I remember being desperate to go out for a walk at one point and banging my head as I collapsed on my jellied legs.
At nights I would feel well enough, and brave enough, to tell Kay this; 'You've got to help me stop drinking. I've got to cut down drastically over the next few days. I'm going to lie to you, saying I desperately need a beer. You've got to ignore me, no matter how desperate I seem. Tommorrow I shouldn't have more than six large beers, with a huge ammount of water in between.' She listenned and nodded solemnly and swore to follow my instructions. In the mornings I'd ask her for a few beers, say I really needed them. She'd say, 'You're not lying to me are you? You said you'd lie.' No Kay, of course I'm not lying. And off to the shop she'd go. Despite this I managed to cut down a bit - even manged to keep some food down.
I borrowed some money from a friend in London and set in motion all the boring stuff I had to do to get new tickets and a re-issued passport. We left filthy Bangkok for Pai, up in the north-east, to recuperate. The coach stopped at a garage on the way there, I found a few coins in my pocket and bought a beer. Kay looked at me distraught; my last beer had supposedly been drunk a few hours before in Bangkok. I promised her that this really was the last one and it was.
