Drunkard Fatigue Syndrome (D.F.S)

It is a little known and even less remembered fact that six out of every five drunks suffer from chronic 'Drunkard Fatigue Syndrome' (D.F.S.) and don’t even realize it.

It can come about without warning and strike down even the most sturdy and stalwart boozehound, inebriate or dipsomaniac.

A single night of binge drinking will, under normal circumstances, leave the average lush with nothing more than a headache and an insatiable thirst for a small fiber from the hair of the dog that bit them. With stern conditioning and a strict regimen of hoisting every pint, shot, tankard and piece of stemware that passes their palm. The drunkard can train his wobbly organs to maintain their functions through several consecutive nights of pickling and bounce back onto the bar stool the next day.

However, there is a difference between the manageable bag of horrors associated with the standard hangover (dehydration, nausea, and the construction crew marching through the caves of your cranium singing 'Hi-Ho') and a textbook case of D.F.S.

While some of the surface symptoms may seem similar, the hangover is curable, in most cases, with a combination of these simple tricks:

*An extra hour of sleep.

*Dry toast or breakfast potatoes.

*A handful of Ibuprofen

*A cup of the strongest coffee available followed by a spicy bloody mary.

Once the common, household bacchanalian attacks his hangover with that arsenal, he can be back on top and playing Skynyrd on the jukebox in time for happy hour.

Drunkard Fatigue Syndrome on the other hand is a total body revolt. After several days or weeks of consistent, morning till night consumption, the drunkard’s organs, limbs, muscles and joints will go on strike and try their darnedest to put him out of the drinking business forever.

D.F.S. acts as a sort of internal intervention. The logical physical and emotional response to this betrayal of the body is to take it literally lying down. Switch to a diet of electrolytes, exercise and protein rich, tofu stir-frys. Then tell all your friends beckoning you to the bar that you are taking it easy for a while.

Don't let this happen to you.

This naive and foolish reaction to D.F.S. can only lead to a reasonable nights sleep, twelve step meetings, bad coffee, and worst of all, missing out on that time last week when that hot new bartender let all your friends stay after last call and lined up shots till dawn.

No one wins in that situation.

Science, or at least something that once had a drink with science, has proven there is only one way to combat an acute case of D.F.S. and that is to drink. Not just the simple and often completely adequate eye opener employed to shake off a normal, garden variety hangover. If you are to stave off D.F.S. you have to commit to a barrage of alcohol intake the likes of which Lord Byron, Ernest Hemingway and even Charles Bukowski have never seen.

If your liver has turned its back on you, then slap it in the face with a shot of tequila and tell it to get back on the ball.

If your knees have chosen to wobble like a newborn Bambi and give out under your weight, then crawl over to the liquor cabinet and beat some life back into them with a baseball bat sized slug of bourbon.

Bleary bloodshot eyes overly sensitive to photosynthesis? That’s nothing a Three Stooges poke with a couple of dry martinis can’t cure.

Grinding fatigue with molasses like reflexes and a complete lack of equilibrium? Sounds like a job for the old crack team of Mr. and Mrs. Gin and Tonic.

The best defense against Drunkard Fatigue Syndrome is a good offense. If you meet your body's misguided revolution with a strict, no tolerance policy and bombard it with a volley of fermented and distilled beverages, it will have no choice but to comply with your wishes and give you the green light to rejoin the drinking masses.

If you fight back hard enough. If you believe in the magic of crooning at the lampposts and drunk dialing the people that hate you most to tell them you love them the best.

Then you can not only survive a case of D.F.S., you can own the night.