Tuesday, January 19, 2016

41. I Won’t Say ‘Told You So’
Two weeks later I ran into Tucker, the most miserable dry drunk I’d ever met, at an AA meeting.  He had been discharged from the hospital the day before, having survived his wrestling match with a moving car.  To my amazement, he only nodded his head in my direction as I passed him in the doorway.  No snide comments, no name calling, not one sarcastic remark.
Later that night, I learned his accident had been an eye-opener.  To his horror, he’d found he needed certain medications.  He’d discovered he preferred not to be awake for surgery, antibiotics help with the healing process, and sometimes even tough guys get overwhelmed by pain. 
For years he’d sneered at anyone on medications, going so far as to label insulin a mood-altering drug, and antibiotics a ‘crutch for impatient people whose bodies would heal naturally.’ Oh, how I needed to say ‘told you so.' I wanted to ask him if he still thought taking medications was a sign of weakness.
Unfortunately my conscience woke up. I realized Tucker had just discovered he was human, and not immune to the illnesses and injuries that plagued the rest of us. He was down, and kicking him wasn’t likely to make me feel good for long. I swore under my breath and went home without saying anything to him.
Today I will think twice before I say ‘told you so.’

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

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