Socializing and Side Effects

There’s a particular lifestyle associated with twenty-somethings. Binge drinking, nights of mischief and fashionably, attractive outfits (read: painful heels and clothes that don’t actually keep anyone warm) come to mind. Even though many people confine their overindulgences to their college years, the bar scene remains an important part of singlehood and twenty something social dynamics.

Unfortunately for us chronics, this lifestyle doesn’t actually do us any good. Truth be told, it’s probably not good for anyone, but we’re probably a little more aware of our own mortality… Invincibility goes with diagnosis.

Getting all dolled up to go out on the town with the girls is fun. Sure. Getting sloshed can also be fun. Trouble is there’s always a pay the price in pain.

For a chronic, a night out is a series of compromises and challenges. Before you’ve taken you’re first drink, you have to dress yourself. My roommates know my ritual—the number of times I change my clothes directly correlates to how I’m feeling in my skin. If my feet hurt, I’ll pick an outfit around my shoes (and probably change it half a dozen times in frustration). Depending on how peeved I am with my body, having to make a concession for my swollen toes could blow a whole night… High heels compound the pressure on the toes and balls of feet, so sore feet can feel really limiting for getting primped for an evening.

Aside from footwear, living in New England makes weather a consideration in preparation. As it gets colder, it becomes more of a problem (see my post on the snow).
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Once you’re dressed appropriately and out the door, it’s time for a drink order.

Alcohol is no friend to me. In the elaborate dance of social interactions—nights out or business meetings—drinking is the lubricant that makes conversations happen with ease. But as a chronic, I have the tolerance of a gnat. One drink can be more than enough for an evening; with an already compromised liver, it doesn’t take much to get me to my tipsy, sweet spot. I’ve never been much of a drinker, but I’ve had to learn not to try to pace my friends’ refill orders.

The most challenging part of a night out is the next morning. Alcohol increases swelling. So the next morning can be a painful reminder of last night’s good time. I’d trade for a hangover an day of the week.

People say that your twenties are the best years of your life. Being chronic is a new set of premature challenges, but there can be balance.  How do you balance your disease and your social life?