Something changed three weeks ago. I have it marked because I wrote about it but didn't post it, because I didn't know for sure.

OK, I was having persistent hiccups, and when I have those hiccups, I consider myself sick. I made that call a few months ago, and I know it's strange because it doesn't have quite the physical symptoms of an illness, but the psychic effect is one of an illness. But the illness also has a timer on it. I can be over 90% certain that within 48 hours, it will be over.

That's the background. I was sick. But I was also looking up symptoms for alcoholic liver disease and several pages completely matched what I was experiencing as being close to the final stages of alcoholic liver disease. I didn't have the final final stage symptoms, and I didn't have jaundice or yellowing of the skin, but I'm Asian, so who could tell, yo'm sayn'?

Anyway, I was convinced that this was the last tip of the edge before heading down that slippery slope. I was definitely going to die sometime soon. My plan had worked: if I wasn't able to die on my own accord, then alcohol would finish me off.

I went about for two days thoroughly convinced it was mission accomplished. I came to terms with it and was glad to have the finish line in sight. I started looking around my apartment and preparing to get rid of as much of the crap I've accumulated so that someone else didn't have to do it. They could just deal with the quality stuff.

Then suddenly everything just turned around. Just about overnight.

Not only did most of the symptoms go away, but the long-term things I've been feeling for the past year and a half or more also disappeared. Most notably was the lack of appetite. The ennui was also gone; I was no longer perfectly happy lying about listening to music all day. Intestinal problems were gone. Insomnia abated for a while, but now it's back, but I don't consider that a problem anymore.

But the appetite is the big thing. It was a bit of torment to not be hungry at all, and when I would convince myself I was hungry and get something to eat, I'd take a bite and immediately regret it, feeling immediately full and that finishing what I had would be miserable.

I don't know what the hell is going on. Since then I've rolled back on alcohol and I've been getting out and about more than I have in the past two years. I've started riding again, getting my road bike out of the apartment for an unprecedented three days in a row, only to be stopped by more than a week of rainy weather.

There's actually some overlap there. I started forcing myself to get out and farther away everyday before three weeks ago in an attempt to not drown in a full torpor. Getting on my road bike was a result of the aftermath. 

Rolling back on alcohol was planned since the incident. When I thought I was going to die, I wondered whether I could stop drinking if I tried, and I told myself 'probably not'. But if I was going to die, I didn't want to die feeling like crap, and I did realize that drinking made me feel like crap and I still pushed myself to drink ridiculous amounts.

So I eased off the drinking, although I still drink enough to put me at a level where doctors would say I'm at risk for long-term health risks. Long-term health risks? I've been drinking like this for over 20 years. The point is that I'm monitoring how I feel about it and if I don't feel like having a drink, I won't; or if I feel it'll make me feel like crap, I won't. There's just a point later on approaching bedtime when I'll let go and throw back a few.