Exactly one week ago yesterday, I was sitting across from my latest doctor as he dropped the bomb on me that I was to give up drinking coffee. For at least a few weeks. And when he, along with a handful of disaster relief workers were finally able to talk me off the ledge from which I was precariously dangling, I managed to oblige the asshole sweet doctor. I recall responding to him firmly, and with confidence saying, “If you tell me that I need to give up coffee for this treatment to be effective, I’ll do it.” When internally I was actually experiencing something comparable to the movies Armageddon and Titanic meeting up for drinks, which in turn ended with Armageddon following Titanic up to her hotel room and nine months later Titanic pops out a baby comprised of nothing but absolute terror and panic and death, with the voice of Celine Dion. That baby is what I went through in my sweet doctor’s office that day. Minus Liv Tyler’s lips and Kate Winslet’s boobs. IT WAS THAT AWFUL.
Cut to the next day, my first without coffee, and DEAR GOD did I want to die. There are no words to accurately express what my body went through. Not to mention, what my brain went through. For example, I give you one of my many effed up text messages from that day:
“I think I’m dying. Unless the bright light I’m seeing is an alien unicorn ship attempting to make contact with me. In which case, please disregard this message. But seriously, I’m pretty sure it’s the first one. Caffeine withdrawals are a bitch.”
They just kept getting worse. And poor Rhonda. Poor, poor, wonderful Rhonda. I should buy her a Disney Princess or something equally as magical for putting up with me that day.
But, hey! It’s been a whole week without coffee and I’m surviving! Turns out, one caffeine pill each morning and copious amounts of hot tea will do the trick. And dare I say it: I feel better. I HATE (am seriously and with all of the conviction in my body, using the word HATE) to admit things like, I’m sleeping better. And I have more energy. And I feel a little less exhausted. And my tummy is happier. That asshole sweet, SWEET doctor of mine was right, which means I now have to buy him a Disney Princess, too (this process is getting rather expensive). And now that I’ve seen what the grass is like on both sides of the fence, I’m tempted to stay off the coffee for good.
I KNOW. Pack for the apocalypse people, it’s coming.