August 2011

Back from Near Death

While waiting for a transplant, an alcoholic suffering from cirrhosis gets sober and begins a new life

The first AA meeting I attended, I shakily entered the door with the help of a walker and my daughter. I had applied lots of make-up, but my yellow skin belied my attempts. I was early, and there were a few men smoking cigars on the patio. One very nice man joined us, extended his hand and introduced himself. After a few welcoming words, Al gently told me I was at a Men's Stag. Well, that sounded good to me; but I was quietly escorted out with a list of nearby appropriate meetings. That was four years ago.

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