Giving Up Coffee: Day Three

My third day without coffee started with an upset stomach that, to put it nicely, turned into a "cleansing" of sorts. When that was over, I realized that I no longer had the headache, but the brain fog wasn't letting up and all my joints were aching. Was I getting sick, or was this part of the detoxing, I wondered. I popped two extra strength Tylenol and jumped into the shower to prepare for a long day in the city. My son was graduating from Pratt at 11:00 AM and my body had to be on the train in the next hour, with or without my headache and aching joints. With my stomach still rumbling, I also took a Lomotil pill - a prescription drug that stops stomach cramping and calms the digestive tract. It also makes me very drowsy, but given the alternative, I decided I would rather sleep on the train than be running between cars to look for an unoccupied toilet.

When I think back to that day, I realize that I spent most of it in a mild stupor. Sure, I saw my son walk on stage and receive his diploma. I hooted and hollered when his name was called and then I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. The auditorium was dark; I needed no other explanation.

About midway through the day, my other son, who had met us in the city to share in the festivities, asked me what was wrong with me.

"Mom, you seem a little zonked. Are you O.K. today?" he asked.

"This is my third day without any caffeine."

"What?! Why?!" he asked.

"I gave it up."

"No way! Why?!"

"Because the doctor said it would help my acid reflux. And for the first time in two months, I'm sleeping through the night."

"But you're also sleeping through the day," he observed. "What kind of life is that?"

"It won't be like this forever," I told him. And I believed that. I had to have hope that it would get better.

Walking through the streets of Manhattan, on our way to the restaurant where we had reservations for lunch, I noticed that sounds in the street seemed excessively loud. Honking horns sounded like they were aimed directly at my ears. Sirens were piercing my head and the light of day was hurting my eyes. I started getting hot flashes and my stomach felt queasy. I knew the symptoms very well now, and, sure enough, by 2:00 PM the migraine headache began again with a vengeance.

But I was still optimistic. After all, it was 2:00 PM. I had made it almost halfway through the day. Perhaps tomorrow, the headache would show up later in the day, and maybe one day, it would not be there at all.

I began to get angry at my body's dependence on this socially accepted drug and I prepared to do battle. I was determined to win this fight and swore never to drink another cup of coffee again. Problem was, at that very moment, all I could notice were the coffee wagons and Starbucks stores on almost every corner and I wanted a cup, or maybe just a sip.  I would even settle for a sniff of steam from a cup.

When the waiter came to our table to ask if we wanted a drink to start before our meal, everyone ordered an alcoholic beverage but me. My son suggested I order a cup of coffee.

The waiter asked, "cup of coffee for the lady?" smiling and writing on his pad.

"No thanks," I replied, "I'll stick with the water."

"Just the water?" he asked, clearly disappointed.

"Yes, just the water," I repeated and tried to muster a half smile.

He crossed out the coffee with an emphatic slash across his pad and repeated, "Just the water." So now, I wondered, would he drop my food on the floor before he served it to me? I was that person. The one who says, "just water for me" in restaurants and disappoints the waitstaff.

To be continued...