At midnight the annual ritual begins anew for many people, but not I.
Honestly, I never was much of a drinker, most especially on New Years Eve.
I have never been what could be referred to as a “socialite,” preferring always the term “introvert,” or later in life, “eccentric,” to be diagnosed in mid 50’s with pervasive “Social Anxiety Syndrome” at a debilitating level and putting me on Social Security Disability after having worked continuously since the age of 13.
So debilitating, even, as to have become reclusive and paranoid around society.
So, in all those years I never did get around to any heavy level of using alcohol use, either socially, or by myself.
Not to say I never drank, because I did, once in a while.. Maybe a total of less than 5 drinks a year, but I never have been in the habit of keeping alcohol in the house waiting for me.
30 months ago I was diagnosed with throat cancer.
Non smoker, having quit all tobacco use by the age of 19, but still, throat cancer at age 59.
So, some two years, four months post chemo, radiation and neck surgery I find myself on this particular New Years Eve contemplating, and even desiring, a couple cold beers, as a sort of celebration of many things, most especially celebration of survival,
but, the concern of relapse, and the knowledge that alcohol use is a contributing factor to throat cancer.
No that I could actually obtain take out beverages at this hour. Not being in a regressive, no alcohol sales on Sundays midwestern located state of Indiana.
Still yet, I wish, this one time, a special exemption to myself, from myself.
But, not to be.