A week ago I was still sucking on cigarettes. Then on Tuesday, it looked as if Mom was going to come home from the hospital after 15 days stuck in that building. Doctors and respiratory therapists said things to my mother like, “If you go home and start smoking again, you’re going to wind up right back here.”
I shook my head because I knew Mom wouldn’t quit smoking, even if she’d gone two weeks without a cigarette (albeit not by choice). Then, the craziest thing happened: Mom decided to stay quit. Which meant *I* had to quit, too, or else she’d never stay quit.
So Tuesday morning I had my last couple of smokes, brushed my teeth, showered, and put on a patch. She didn’t come home Tuesday; she came home Wednesday.
But it’s now Day 7 of The Quitting and I haven’t shot anybody. Yet. Tomorrow makes a full week for me, today makes THREE weeks for Mom.
Instead of sucking on cigarettes now, I’m sucking on straws. This is something I came up with the last time I attempted to Quit. I take a regular drinking straw and cut it down to roughly the length of a cigarette and I use that as a substitute. If I squint (and am drunk), it’s almost like the real thing.
Straws, patches, and chewing gum are thus far saving my ass. That, and knowing I’m not the only one quitting. Friends ZenBitch and Shannon quit over the weekend, too, which rocks. Despite Shannon’s shitty weekend – losing a friend – she stopped smoking yesterday, so kudos to her. And to ZenBitch, too.
Claiming that she picked a hell of a weekend to quit smoking, I can tell Shannon that there’s never a “good” time to quit. Something stressful is always happening…at least as far as I’m concerned. I’m still stressed with Mom now that she’s home. Hell, she’s still on antibiotics, she’s using oxygen and breathing treatments, might have a little pneumonia, and still has a PICC line.
Believe me, I’d love to still be smoking…part of me would love it, anyway. But I can’t.
The last few days, I’ve (re)watched the “Back to the Future” trilogy. I never get tired of those movies. Thing is, I’ve seen the future – as a smoker. It includes hospitals, being tied to IVs, oxygen, nebulizers, having a hard time getting a breath, no endurance, lung cancer…things I really, really don’t want.
It’s been a fucked up year, 2010. Next month I’ll be 44 years old. I skipped the Summer of Love this year, as well as my Birthday Dares…just not feeling it. I have no grand plans for my birthday, even though it falls on a Saturday, but the one thing I can say about turning 44 is that I’ll be a non-smoker.
That’s the best gift I could hope to get myself.
Though I’d gladly take a (non-smoking) girlfriend. Or an iPhone 4. Or a Kindle. Or this Star Wars shower curtain. Just about anything from Think Geek. Or a Blu-Ray player with the soon-to-be released Blu-Ray “Back to the Future” trilogy.
See? I’m not (incredibly) picky.
