According to the English calendar I have been thirty years old for one hour and eight minutes (well, technically I was born at 14:24 so I suppose there's still a bit of my twenties left), and by the Hebrew calendar, 9 Kislev passed a few days ago. Thirty! A new decade, hopefully filled with exciting changes.
Except I'm not excited, even by the thought of birthday cake. And I have a sweet tooth that should be in a dental museum.
Someone I love very very much is suffering from a serious alcohol problem which has worsened dramatically in the past couple months. This person is one of the most wonderful people in know: generous, loving, creative, and always putting other people first. And this person has no insight into the problem alcohol is causing. And the rest of the family is concerned enough that they are talking about organizing an intervention and inpatient rehabilitation.
I love this person so much! He or she (I'm trying to respect this person's privacy) is not a bad person, but is suffering from an addiction which has led to lack of insight and poor decisions. If anything happens to him or her, I don't know what I would do. And as a physician, I'm scared to death because I have seen end-stage alcoholism, and I could not bear to see my loved one in that place.
I hope there is a chance for recovery. This person is a strong individual and has been through a lot but always come out resilient, and this person wants to be healthy to be there for our Little One. That's a pretty strong bit of motivation. I wish somebody could give me a hug and make me a glass of tea with sugar and lemon and tell me everything will be okay. But I know it doesn't work like that, and even if someone is motivated to quit, it's a lifelong uphill battle.
So I have spent the first hour of my thirties trying not to cry too much, because it makes it hard to read about dizziness and Meniere's diease -- oh, yes, I also have the pleasure of starting my birthday working overnight at the local VA hospital -- and trying to self-sooth with Chopin.
At least there will be Shabbat dinner tomorrow night (today now, I guess) and my brother has ordered a delicious lemon-white chocolate cheesecake torte in which to drown my sorrows. (The meal will be dairy.)
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