Hey Paddler, want to add my thanks for the reminder.
This was, by far, the worst physical aspect of drinking for me. It is actually what got me to stop "the first time." I remember last summer having a friend stay with me for a week or so and being in my car one day when I took a swig of some antacid without even thinking about it. She looked at me and said, "You do realize you have about fifteen bottles of this stuff all over your house at 'stations' and there are two bottles in your car that I have seen. What the 'f' is wrong with you and shouldn't you be going to the Dr.?!!" Nevermind the Tums in my purse and the heartburn medicine stashed elsewhere. It had gotten so 'normal' for me to be in constant agony because of my stomach that I just kept compensating for it by ingesting antacid all day so I could drink all night. Long story short: I ended up in the hospital intensive care unit on Thanksgiving last year after I started vomiting after a long binge and couldn't stop. I eventually passed out from the pain and exhaustion and woke up on the bathroom floor in such agony I thought I was dying. Five days in the hospital (and a $18,000 bill later which insurance only covered about 2/3rds of), I knew I was in serious trouble.
I was/am lucky. My bloodwork was still fine although I had signs of the beginning of a fatty liver. I was, however, developing a ulcer in my esophagus which the doctor told me bluntly would basically end up with me having to eat via tube eventually if I didn't stop drinking and allow it to heal. That scared the crap out of me...but not enough to stop until six weeks later. The inability to drink "much" after that hospital stay because of the pain, however, convinced me that I could stop if I wanted to. Still, though, I drank that wine with all of its horrible burning going down until the fourth or fifth glass when the pain was numbed.
So, yeah, long story short, thank you so much for that reminder. I forget now, six weeks out and feeling great, how awful that part of alcoholism became for me. I love food and come from a family of chefs so the thought of never being able to eat solid food again or enjoy their wonderful creations is too horrible to contemplate. And a feeding tube in my 30s? Um, no...not how I pictured it at all...
But I was forgetting until I read this post. Thank you, thank you, thank you again.
((Hugs))