CMT, neuropathy and alcohol: Nope.

This post, like others that will follow it, is a continuation of my Gambling On Life series.

A week ago I decided I'd go out and have a drink; I was off all of my daily prescription meds in preparation to start a new one in December, so I thought.. Hey, I haven't had a drink in forever, let's go have one.

I've never been a big drinker; I'd go out and have a few, but I hate being drunk, and never drank enough to black out or anything like that.. So, if you're going to come at me with alcoholic neuropathy as your armchair diagnosis, you're wrong (we've already figured out what my neuropathy is caused by, thank you).

Anyway, after so many years of not drinking, literally every place I would visit for a drink is gone.. So, I did some research, and settled on a local whisky bar (because I was going to have either Knob Creek 9 year, Templeton Rye, or Glenmorangie 18 year, because I was a picky asshole at times).

Jess and I settled down at the bar; She had her wine, I had my Knob Creek on the rocks, and I was content. Sipping that bourbon was pure nostalgia; Since I tended to not drink much, I pursued quality over quantity.. And yeah, that shit is sublime.

Things got weird, though, in short order.. And I'm not just talking about the fact that my ex walked in with her husband who's the ex-husband of a mutual friend of myself, Jess, AND my ex (yeah, it's fuckin' weird).

My palms and feet started itching.

Then they started itching and burning.

I then proceeded to have an incredibly awful night as I lay in bed willing the fire to subside.

Thankfully it did after a few hours (that or I just passed out from exhaustion, which is.. Not uncommon now), and my next day I was back to my baseline level of general comfort (which admittedly is not very comfortable, but.. fucking familiarity, ya know?).

So, I get to ask my neurologist about it next year when I have my next follow-up.. Because, as the introduction implies, Google reveals the wrong thing as the answer (unsurprisingly).

Out of all the things I'm missing out on due to the fucking broken funhouse mirror directed by David Lynch (RIP) that is my body, I will say that drinking isn't really high on the list of priorities..

..However, if I were to ever sit in on harmonica with someone again, I don't know what I'll do without my ritual drink (A shot of Maker's Mark in an Amber Bock, or similar dark-but-not-Guinness-beer) to help lube me up.