This is an anonymized experience record that has undergone risk screening and language refinement; it retains no identifiable details about the original author's identity, location, or personal information.
In my hometown, almost everyone from my father's generation died from drinking
In my childhood memories of home, nearly everyone from my father's generation is gone now. Most deaths were alcohol-related. Some died suddenly from cerebral infarction, collapsing outdoors; others withered away from femoral head necrosis compounded by tuberculosis; some from liver cancer, while others passed from unspecified causes—their bodies simply failing, with families unwilling to pursue medical care.
One man stood out—handsome, with a kind wife and beautiful daughter. His drunken abuse drove them away, leaving him drinking alone at home. Eventually, alcohol left him wheelchair-bound, yet he kept drinking. His ultimate fate remains unknown, but he's likely gone too.
These scenes unfolded throughout my childhood, their lessons crystal clear.
My father: Three jin of liquor and five packs of cigarettes daily
My father was alcohol-dependent too—among our hometown's heaviest drinkers. Three jin (1.5kg) of liquor daily, starting with two gulps upon waking, his hands trembling as he poured. Five cigarette packs a day, chain-smoking butt-to-butt.
Twice he nearly died. First from jaundice—hospitals refused him until a distant relative, an old Chinese medicine practitioner, treated him with herbs. Later, doctors urged gallbladder removal for cholecystitis. Suspicious, I consulted the same practitioner who prescribed homecare with Chinese medicine, gradually restoring him.
This isn't endorsing Chinese medicine—I'm skeptical. Whether herbs healed him or his body recovered naturally remains unclear.
Two years sober, then relapse and family violence
Doctors warned continued drinking would be fatal. He stayed sober two years before relapsing into drunken rages targeting family—classic alcoholic cowardice.
His daily abuse toward my mother forced me to relocate her, leaving him drinking unchecked at home. Last year, drunken cycling shattered his kneecap. I refused to visit—my vow: zero tolerance for alcohol-related crises. My sister intervened, hospitalizing him.
At the hospital, her scolding reduced him to tears. When she told our mother, I interjected: "Wait till his leg heals—he'll revert!" Sure enough, surveillance audio captured his solitary drunken rants soon after.
This New Year: Alone
This Spring Festival found him celebrating solo. Later complaining of appetite loss to my sister, tests suggested liver cancer. Further exams revealed multiple conditions: cerebral infarction, severe calcium deficiency (alcohol impairs absorption—his knee surgery recovery stalled last year), and intestinal tumors. Surprisingly, his liver showed minor damage, requiring only intestinal tumor removal. My sister exploded at him: "Want more liquor? We'll buy 100kg—drink yourself to death!"
His liver's relative health might stem from decades of cupping therapy—drawing "toxic" black blood after drinking. This possibly reduced hepatic toxin load, explaining his survival despite outdrinking deceased peers.
His drunken mantras haunted my childhood: "I'm clearer-headed drunk!" "Alcohol fuels my work!" Alcohol's devastation left this 60-year-old resembling an octogenarian. Without robust genetics and cupping, he'd have died years ago.
Alcohol destroys families, not just individuals
Alcoholism shattered our family. Long disillusioned, I left early and disengaged—some battles can't be won.
My father taught me this: alcohol surpasses tobacco in harm. Those claiming "moderate drinking benefits health" merely excuse addiction. The safest dose is zero.
If this resonates, remember: self-preservation matters. You might explore family support strategies or assess your situation. But ultimately, change requires the drinker's own motivation.
An alcoholic's transformation needs internal drive—family's power is limited. Protecting yourself isn't selfish; it's essential.