Alcohol the antagonist

Lady liquor makes me a hot mess: time and time again, alcohol has proven to be too good a friend, by making me too friendly to be good. I gave it up on my own account, hoping to stop acting like the loud, gay fratboy who shouts at people to take their clothes off – but I’d still occasionally need a reminder.

After my HIV diagnosis, I didn’t know if I would get the chance to let my intoxicated alter ego out of his cage anymore. I worried that alcohol could counteract the medications. The doctor assured me that it wouldn’t, but also gave me reasons to love my liver and not give it a liquid beating.

Eventually there was an evening in which I let it rip once again. Vodka gladly reunited with my lips, and proved you can indeed return to being a lightweight. I made approximately 132 new friends and managed to forget 136 names. My partner safely got me home just in time for me to curl up in a puddle of drool.

In the morning, the hangover took its toll – worse than any hangover I’d had. To make it worse, my cell phone alarm buzzed through my aching head, my morning reminder to take my medications. I tapped the screen to make it stop, and then suddenly realized – I hadn’t taken my meds the night before!

I jumped out of bed to find my pants among the clothes strewn around the floor. I searched pockets for the little pink pill that had become part of my daily routine – and indeed, to my dismay, it was there. I searched my memory for the moment I’d fucked up: My evening cell phone reminder had gone off like always, but this time I was distracted and switched it off without taking the pill.

As an HIV positive person, the single most important thing I do, not only for myself but for those around me, is take that pill. Perhaps the alcohol doesn’t counteract drugs, but it counteracted my commitment to take them, which is just as bad if not worse.

The medicine I use has a ‘95 percent adherence rate,’ meaning the virus can adapt if more than 5 percent of doses are skipped, which in turn would mean the drug could stop working for me. That’s why I used my phone alarm in the first place – my life depended on it. So as I crawled back into bed, I felt a new kind of regret in my adventures with alcohol, this tine one I couldn’t laugh off.

I continued to beat myself up long after the hangover was gone. My track record for total adherence went down the toilet and I couldn’t stop thinking that my night of drinking cost me the benefit of some of the best medication that exists today.

As it turns out, I wasn’t alone. Several of my poz comrades had already been through this, many on their second or third rounds with meds because of slipups under the influence. I couldn’t believe that no one talked about this before. If a split second memory lapse can lead to such a detrimental outcome, I had to wonder if the alcohol was ever even worth it for any of us.

After a few months of paranoia, I went back in to the doctor to see if my virus was still in check. I remained undetectable, the meds still fully effective. But I may not have been so lucky if I drank more often. Though alcohol didn’t counteract the medication, it’s an antagonist of my ability to take them on time.