Antabuse works! But, does it have its dangers?

I can now say officially that Antabuse works.

I don't mean that of course, I'm not an official of anything, barely even the boss of me and I don't wear a uniform or have a clip board.

What I mean to say is that I accidentally ingested some alcohol - nearly a week ago now, last Friday - and the Antabuse in my system reacted badly to it in the promised way.

We had someone over for dinner and Mrs CD cooked. I remember her asking if anyone minded if she put some wine in the sauce (our guest had a couple of food allergies) and no-one did. Least of all me, I believed it would be cooked off.

Sadly, dear reader, it was not.

So. Later that evening my heart started to race. I did notice it at the time, but didn't pay it too much attention. I'd had a couple of spliffs and found the experience of having a guest over (both she and Mrs CD drank a bit of wine and got a bit tiddly) nerve wracking.

In the morning however, it was obvious that this was more than a passing little bit of physical silliness.

I woke up with the racing heart still racing and a headache. I went downstairs to make a cup of tea for us both and the effort made me light-headed and shaky. Mrs CD tried to take my pulse when I told her and reported that it was too irregular to count.

I must admit I wasn't overly concerned. Apart from anything, I pay my physical health very little regard and, through all the years of drinking as much as anything, I'm used to being in bad physical state - it's my default setting. But, we did phone NHS direct, who were very nice and said if it got any worse we should call an ambulance.

It didn't, so we didn't.

It had passed by Sunday and on Monday I had the strange feeling of being hungover.

I mentioned this to my website pal when I went round - it put me out of action for a whole day after all - and he popped Antabuse into google and got up the wikipedia page.

It turns out that Antabuse stops the breakdown of dopamine too. I am not a chemist, I'm not very much, but I am starting to get more and more wary of the stuff that's going on in my brain and wondering if it's part of the reason that I feel so grey and flat and emotionless at the minute.

My brain is being treated by Antabuse (as it turns out); Trazadone (a sort of SSRI antidepressant), and Campral, and I don't have any emotions! Really, that's how it feels - I've spoken about it in counselling in terms of my lack of anger about anything, and recently my lack of pleasure in anything, and it's put down to the things the rest of my addiction is put down to - stuff from childhood. But, maybe there's a chemical thing too. I wonder what it's like to not f**k up your brain chemistry, to just have the natural stuff in there? I wonder, because I don't know - I've been taking antidepressants for a dozen years.

I'd like to find out. I'd like to be normal.

If you spent it, thank you for your time.

So, am I ill or just an idiot?

That's a big ol' question up there in the title isn't it. If you have an opinion, please drop it in a comment.

I'm thinking thus, because there's not much to report from today. Another pretty routine (and thus successful and also unsuccessful one of sobriety).

Again, I went to the pub and saw my mates and that's where the question came up. But it's one that plays on the mind of anyone who's had a drink problem I should imagine, and it's also a BIG and IMPORTANT question because knowing the answer is vital to how drink problems (I'm avoiding the word alcoholism for the moment) is treated.

One of my pals has experience as a drugs counsellor and started off on a fairly strong and long-gestated attack on AA. Lots of people don't like AA because they see it as cult like and religious. I haven't yet been to a meeting, but I do plan to go and will reserve judgement till then - I also understand that each meeting is very individual. We were visited on the ward by members of AA who hold a meeting in the hospital and their main thrust was to play down anything to do with religion and Jesus. I know the organisation uses the term Higher Power rather than God and asks people to define that in their own way.

Anyhow, my purpose is not ill-informed pontificating on an organisation about which I yet know very little. But, it is the law that any alcohol blogger must ask the, is alcoholism an illness question at some point, and now is my turn, just from what I know of myself.

It matters enormously of course. It matters because it affects spending large amounts of public money and it matters to me enormously because if I accept the disease model that means I'm probably going to have to accept that I can never drink again; something I find hard to contemplate despite all I've been through because of drink. Put the question into Google and you'll see a huge amount written on the subject - much of what I've read is axe-grinding rubbish designed to sell books, or treatments or traduce other books and treatments.

There doesn't yet appear to be any concrete evidence either way, although from what I've read the idea of a genetic predisposition to alcohol abuse seems to have some support.

So, this is what I reckon. And, I really don't know where I'm going with this, it's just a ramble on what I think. By the way if you're a medical researcher and want to look at my brain I'd be only too pleased to help, I've always wanted electrodes on my brain.

One reason I think they're might be some merit in the predisposition concept is my own first experience of getting drunk. Charles Bukowski may have put it better: "With this, life was great, a man was perfect, nothing could touch him," but I absolutely recognise that thought. It was like a light going on and seeing the world in proper focus for the fist time, it fit, it was the real me this drunk person and straight away I knew I wanted to be like this as much as possible. I was 13. Now, it may be that everyone feels like that the first time they are intoxicated, but they simply learn to ration their pleasure. I also know there is some history of alcohol abuse in my family.

I find that very hard so powerful is that pull. I also recognise that I have a tendency to over-indulge with almost anything pleasurable and along the way I've had abusive relationships with almost every pleasure I've ever encountered from sweeties to porn to speed, acid, weed and coffee to sucking my thumb as a child.

On the other side in going through a therapeutic day programme that has really amounted to very simple, common sense guide to coping with life. And I can see in my love a drink a running away from that - from life, or anything unpleasant there within, from conflict of any kind to responsibility, getting up in morning and living to a budget. I've seen the so-called 'addictive personality' dismissed, it is in fact a narcissistic personality and when I'm not indulging in extreme self-hate there's a lot of that in me, a lot of self-regard, (just look at this blog, it's all me, me me) and the fact that the rest of the world does not bow down at my feet in supplication might indeed be a trigger for drinking. It's tough to take that is but I'm very glad that I've had my learning-to-live-classes and I'm really trying very hard to put what I learned into practice. Don't get me wrong; if you met me you would find me shy and self-effacing, much of my personality is hidden inside and only came out when the shutters were drunk into their open position, that's the only time I would have anything even approaching confidence - I need to try and find a healthy balance here somehow.

Self-medication. Another theory that I think has some merit. Narcissism taken, I was always very nervous and drink dealt with my anxiety and indeed my sadness, (narcissistic?) constant self-examination and self-admonishment. Of course, we all know that it's not a very good medication in the long run, but boy does it work at the moment of administration - instant confidence.

This, you see, could be dangerous temptation talking too. If I can learn to deal with life better, through counselling or what have you and if I get my depression and anxiety under control, through medication or what have you, then I can join those lovely lucky people like Mrs CD who have a glass of wine with their meal or a drink with friends on the way home from work without starting off on a three day bender. Wouldn't that be nice? But can I do that? I never have done, but then I've never grown up and accepted what life is all about in this society either.

This isn't getting to anywhere very conclusive at all. (I warned you). I can see merits in both sides of the argument, but not in the vituperative and self-serving nature of many of the arguees. Perhaps describing alcoholism as a disease does take responsibility away from the drinker but I also think it helps them - yes, it's easier on yourself to believe you ended up in a hideous mess as a result of some predetermined nasty gene over which you have no control, but it also might help you stop once you come to believe that you have an illness which means if you drink you will die. People with serious peanut allergies don't tend to try the odd Snickers bar for the thrill of it.

So, I don't know. I really don't and I'm tired now and in need of 300mg of Trazadone and some sleep - I'm sure I'll come back to it, we all do. But, if you've got a thought then I'd love to hear it, but, I think we'll both have to accept that whatever you say it will be a theory nothing more than that on the current state of evidence, so don't go getting all definitive on us.

21 pills a day - rattle 'em.

Ah yes, 21 pills each day. So many in fact that I've had to invest in one of those trays I had previously thought the product of choice of the mentally enfeebled - which, of course, to some extent is me to a t! Oh, yes.

So, on Thursday I took my lovely big bag from the pharmacy and dumped it all in to the four slots for each day. It would make a cracking percussion instrument, great for samba if anyone's setting up a Latin troupe in Cardiff shout me man.

Sadly, it doesn't go beep at the appointed hour. Writing this reminded me to go and check where I stood today and I missed two so I've just had a big swallow.

This is what I take every day and why. Four Thiamine, remember that from the cereal packaging of your youth? Well, I do. Apparently it's destroyed by alcohol so if you want to soak your kiddies' Cocopops in gin you'll at least be doing a not half bad thing. Strong vitamin B, two four times a day, for similar reasons. Six Acamprosate or Campral tablets; these are supposed to reduce cravings but the medical technicalities of it (and everything else to be honest) are beyond me, stick it in Google and you'll be deluged with discussion on its use and even the ethics of using it. One Antabuse or Disulfiram tablet: this is the big one, the deterrent, the chemical cosh and one which the professionals drink to. The idea in short is; you drink, you're seriously ill.

I was a bit chary about Antabuse at first. I've used it in a previous suicide attempt plan and knowing how low my mood can go I was wary of having access to a guaranteed self harmer like that. Also, in hospital, it turned out that every damn cream, lotion and unguent I used to treat my eczema contained alcohol. I was offered another drug called Naltrexone which works by making alcohol impotent, you can't get drunk it, therefore drinking it is pointless.

However, in the end, and I think to my relief too (a subconscious part of me didn't want something 100% effective I think), alternatives were found for my eczema treatments (although since leaving hospital - where my skin became as a lovely nectarine in its smoothosity and loveliness; it was like listening to Al Green singing masses by William Byrd to look at my skin - it's flared badly again) and I am now an antabuser.

It's not part of my 21 tablets a day in reality because I've decided to have my intake supervised. This shouldn't really be necessary but I relished the chance for another appointment, another reason to leave the house and get into some sort of routine of obligation and timetabling. So, each Monday, Wednesday and Friday I trot off down to the Community Addiction Unit. There I am breathalysed to ensure I'm not about to poison myself and take two pills or three on Fridays.

Of course, me being me, I mislaid my tablets on Friday so didn't go and wasn't able to take them until today when they turned up, not in the traditional last place I looked but rather the first place I'd looked but just not seen them. D'oh!

If you spent it thank you for your time.