Since my discharge from hospital I have not drank, nor have I even thought about drinking, and I’ve experienced zero cravings. My doctors made it clear I could never drink again — by their orders — and one of them told me that one more drink would kill me. I don’t know exactly how he could be so certain of that outcome. What if I were to have just half a drink? I’ve explored these questions and similar worries in many of my older posts.

Having the doctor tell me this was perhaps the best news I have ever received. I needed a clear reason to give up, since my willpower tends to fail me at critical moments. Now that I know, all temptation seems to have vanished, and that realisation has made my life considerably easier in a number of important ways. I can’t help but wonder where he was twenty years ago. I must admit I feel a little shortchanged for being so young and getting this news, yet I’m confident it’s ultimately for the best. God works in mysterious ways.

I’d like to have more to write about, but there’s genuinely nothing new to report right now. I’m improving steadily each day, both physically and mentally, and those small gains add up. There’s something quietly romantic about the idea of giving up beer for good. Even after just a couple of weeks I’m thinking more clearly, and I’ve already noticed some lingering health problems ease now that I’m not drinking. I haven’t reached the pink cloud yet, but I’m almost completely confident it won’t get the better of me when its ugly face appears.