the worst part.

So, I knew the drill.  As long as the doctors thought you were intoxicated, they wouldn't give out any medication.  But the way THEY measure intoxication is very different from the way I measure it. I measure it based on levels of excruciating, heart-pounding, horrible sweaty pain. THEY use a blood alcohol level, with the usual cut-off of intoxication at .08, which means nothing to me. That might be OK with your average soccer mom, drinking for a couple of months, maybe 4 glasses of wine a night, the kids have been getting to her.  Her husband is too late at the office, probably having an affair.  She goes in for help.  Only had three glasses of wine that night. Her best friend is by her side.  She's crying, mascara running.  THEY soothe her, take her blood alcohol, it comes back at .09.  They tell her, 'You're going to be OK. In about a half hour, your alcohol level will be low enough so that we can give you a little something to take the edge off. Something to make you feel better.'  Hell, they probably don't even say anything.  By the time the nurse asks the doctor's approval and gets it, the half hour will have gone by.  Mom's probably not expecting anything anyway, being new to this.  Then the nurse comes by with a little cup of water and a green and white capsule, 'Here, honey, take this.  It's called Librium, it will calm you down.  We're so happy you decided to get help.  You can do this!'

Now, sometimes you find a place where a doctor knows the deal and is sympathetic.  He might even come over to the bed, ask you about your drinking history. 'Hold out your hands, stick out your tongue.'  He knows.  So sometimes you might get a little something to help get through it when you are still over the limit.  That's what you have to hold out hope for.  But, the same doctor who gave mom her pill might take a very different view of a guy like me.  Brought in by the cops.  Disheveled.  Even though doc KNOWS the deal, he also knows medically that the chances of having a seizure with a blood alcohol over .08 are slim.  Really.  So, he follows the rules.  This is what you do not hold out hope for.  Because my .28 is like mom's .08, as far as pain goes, and that little .2 difference makes all the difference in the world.  It's a crap shoot, as far as protocol goes.  So, I decided that I would stick it out as long as I could before I rang the nurse.  Maybe time would be on my side?  I wasn't sure, but I was worried. How much had I been drinking?  I really couldn't remember.