7th August 2024. The day everything kicked off with my health. Also the last day I had a drink.
I didn't agonise over it. I didn't wean myself off or set a date or make a big announcement. I just stopped. And in the time since, I've thought a lot about my relationship with alcohol — what it was, why it was, and why walking away from it was one of the easiest decisions I've made in a very difficult year.
The fish
Some of my friends used to call me the fish. It wasn't a comment on my swimming ability — it was a comment on my drinking. In my teens and twenties I was a pretty heavy drinker, and looking back now with a clearer head, I understand why in a way I didn't at the time.
I was anxious. Not in a way I ever named or addressed — just that low level background hum of social anxiety that a lot of people carry around without realising it. And I discovered pretty early on that a couple of quick beers took the edge off it. Smoothed things out. Got me to a place where I felt more like the version of myself I wanted to be in a room full of people.
It's a very common story. Alcohol as a social lubricant, as a shortcut to confidence, as a way of quietening the noise in your head. I didn't see it as a problem because it didn't feel like one — it just felt like having a good time.
Beers would lead to shots. Jagerbombs were always a staple. I was always up for one more. I slowed down considerably in my forties — life changes you, responsibilities change you — but I still enjoyed a social beer whenever I was out. If I was in a social setting I'd almost always have a drink. It was just part of being there.
I never drank at home, which I think let me tell myself I didn't have a problem. And maybe I didn't. But I knew it wasn't healthy. I always knew that.
Why I stopped
The kidney cancer made it simple. I have one kidney left. I'd already put it through years of processing alcohol — I wasn't going to keep doing that when it's now the only one doing all the work. That felt obvious to me from day one.
And then beyond the kidney — the medication. I'm on Nivolumab and Cabozantinib. These are serious drugs doing serious work inside my body, trying to keep the cancer stable and give me more time. Why would I introduce alcohol into that equation? You wouldn't drink on antibiotics. You wouldn't pour something into your engine that you knew was going to cause damage and then wonder why things started going wrong.
I would never forgive myself if my body stopped responding to treatment because I decided I fancied a drink. That thought makes the decision completely simple.
The questions
Since stopping I've had no end of it. Why aren't you drinking? Go on, just have one. Surely one won't hurt. You deserve it after everything you've been through.
People mean well. I know that. And I also know that a lot of people in my situation do turn to alcohol — as a way of coping, of numbing things, of getting a break from the relentlessness of it all. I'm not judging anyone for that. I understand the pull of it more than most.
Sometimes I think about getting absolutely plastered just for the fun of it, the way I used to. The memory of it is there. But then I think about what I just said — about the treatment, about the kidney, about not forgiving myself — and the thought passes pretty quickly.
The unexpected bonus
Here's the thing I didn't anticipate. The anxiety that drove a lot of my drinking in the first place? It's largely gone.
A diagnosis like mine has a way of completely reorganising your priorities. The things that used to make me anxious — what people think of me, whether I'm coming across right in a room, the low level social static that used to hum away in the background — they've just stopped mattering in the same way. I've looked death in the face, or at least had a long hard stare in its direction. After that, worrying about whether someone across the room has a good opinion of me feels faintly ridiculous.
I used to drink to feel more comfortable in my own skin. Now I just feel comfortable in my own skin. The diagnosis gave me that, oddly enough.
People probably have the same anxious thoughts about themselves anyway. They're too busy worrying about how they're coming across to spend much time judging me. I know that now in a way I didn't before. And I didn't need a drink to get there — I needed a near death experience. Slightly more extreme, but it worked.
Where I am now
Alcohol free since 7th August 2024. Not struggling with it, not white-knuckling it, not counting the days. Just not drinking. It's the easiest thing I've done and the decision I'm most certain about.
My life is shorter than it should be. I'm not going to spend any of it making my body work harder than it has to.
— Nick