As an update on the situation, all seems to be working out in a positive manner. It appears that my daughter will be fine. We had been told Thursday she was experiencing an ectopic pregnancy and was rushed to the ER for fear of hemorrhaging, obviously a life-threat. By Friday and a battery of tests, it was concluded that she miscarried and the danger was diminished considerably. Another test on Monday to verify hormone levels have dropped, thus confirming the miscarry. She is feeling fine now, no pain and looking like herself again. The trauma of the incident has been replaced with a great relief, even at the expense of loosing the pregnancy. I believe it was so early in the stage, the bonding had not yet occurred and may lessen the effects of the outcome.
As for me...I survived too, with my sobriety intact. Actually, I had very few cravings during the event. However, last evening, the weather here was astounding. A friend of mine invited my wife and I over for a BBQ and campfire dinner. The friend is a connoisseur of beer and I have been used to attending these events sampling a multitude of unique beers. On the drive to his home, I had the whispers begin.
"Why not pick up a six-pack "just to be sociable?" That notion was almost immediately followed by: Now, is a six-pack enough? A nice buzz by the campfire may require a bit more to insure a satisfactory glow. Maybe a little brandy, hmm? Wouldn't that be a grand evening?"
Well, well, well, look who has come for a visit...the Siren. Hier face puttied in a festered smile and talking with such sweetness and concern for my happiness. She rose up so fast with amazing velocity and determination that I, for several minutes, entertained the notion that I could do this (ready?) just for this evening and I would return to my commitment tomorrow. Of course I could. And a band of roving Lapland goats could show up on my doorsteps playing Finnegan's Wake on ukuleles too. But the stage was being set and I was the candidate for the sucker punch.
Then a quiet, but strong voice came from someone I am growing to admire...Pádraic simply said, "It's not going to happen. Not tonight." Did I say that to that gorgeous addiction? Was that me that deflated that black urge to break my sobriety and send it sliding back to the obscure recesses where it will lick its wounds and try to conspire new tricks? The answer is of course, yes. It was the true self taking charge and I won.
Helpless? Not unless I choose to be...and I am not making that choice.
Thanks for your prayers and concerns.
Pádraic