I am going to jump ahead and provide the reader with some information that I did not aquire until I got home from the beach. Remember the cottage did not have internet. One of the first things I did was go to Google and type in "how long does nicotine stay in the body". You would be amazed at the caliber of material that search gets you. Two things stuck out at me. One if you were not a smoker and had a smoke--two days. My situation; long term smoker--one month. Damn. Well that explains something.
Okay back to the story. The more time I spent thinking about this concept the more I came to realize that the medical community was phrasing it wrong.
Let's go back to the hospital room. The gray haired man wearing a white coat comes into the room and says (I am going to say like I mean it) "Son, I want you to cut your fuckin' arm off."
I am speechless. I am thinking that I don't like this idea. I like my arm. I do a lot of things with my arm. It scratch itches, I make friends with it, it calms me down etc. Why would I do this? Is he crazy? Does he really think I would even consider life without my freaking arm?
Now I start to think about it. In my head I go visit a community where the only people that live there are in their 90's. No one has their arm. No one.
Next I go to a community where people are in their 80's. No one here has their arm either. Okay now I visit a place for folks in their 70's. I see a couple of people that still have their arm but not many.
The realization comes upon me. Each and everybody has to part with their arm at some point. If you want to see really big birthdays that is. You know my father was the first male with my name to see his 60th birthday. He died at the age of 62. Still smoking. I have a cousin who saw his 60th birthday and he is still alive. He does not smoke. I have a couple of older brothers in their 50's they do not smoke.
If I cut my arm off how often will I miss it? Everyday. How often will I go to use it and realize it is not there. Pretty often. Will I ever stop mourning it? After a long period of time you get used to it.
I spend the rest of the week trying to get on with life as a non smoker. I have decided to change as many things as I can. My hat, exercising, whatever I can. I have noticed that I no longer wheeze. It is really nice to breath again. Well it is time to go home where I will have to adjust to life in a big way.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
At the Beach
It is Sunday. My last smoke was on Tuesday morning before I went to the Hospital. My memories stop having gaps here. I can recall things well.
We arrive at the cottage and settle in. Downstairs in the garage are two bicycles. How cool is that? This "stay-cation" is at the place I grew up. I am looking forward to eating a burger at the pier and other quaint things of days gone by.
I have brought some books and a supply of alcohol and our Cuisinart coffee maker. There is not much to do here at this quiet sea side community I grew up in. A fact that caused me a lot of frustration as a youngster but something I cherish now. There is no internet at the cottage and that is okay with me. I really need to have my world turned upside down right now.
The first day or two I spend reading, bike riding, and on the strand. And honestly I am having huge cravings for a smoke. They just will not decrease in intensity. I now have access to a car and I could go and get some but I am not going to let that happen. I do, however, go and buy a kite. When the demons of nicotine rear their head(s) the phrase go fly a kite keeps popping in my head. This becomes an activity that over the course of the week kills several hours. They were bad hours too.
Over the course of time I come to settle on a sofa that over looks the wetlands on the west side of the house. The closer to my God am I. On this sofa I read, sleep, and think and NOT SMOKE. Why in God's green earth won't these cravings get any better. There are a few activities each day that I do that keep my mind off smoking. My bike ride at sunrise, coffee on the deck, flying my kite, reading, and sleeping. Sleeping is the best one but waking up just starts the cycle over again.
So here I am. 49 years old. Trying to end a 33 year old relationship and actually coming to tears from time to time. I love smoking. The warmth of the inhaled smoke as it enters you lungs. The calm that comes over you as the nicotine hits whatever receptors it hits. The quiet contemplation. What non-smokers may not realize is that smokers do their best thinking while smoking. The boss fusses-smoke. The spouse fusses-smoke. The dog bites you-smoke. The friend who is always there. Never takes sides against you. Never judges you. Whenever you need them, there they are are. Everybody says to you that you don't need them.
Now there is not a single smoker that does not know that they should quit. Non-smokers have no idea how tight the grip nicotine has on a smoker. Do you say to the alcoholic just quit, you don't need to drink. Hell no. They have detox programs for drinkers. They have detox programs for all kinds of substances. If they have one for nicotine I don't know of it. In fact some detox programs provide smokes.
What do you say to a non-smoker that might possibilly register in the nicotine free brain that would give them some idea of what I am going through. I am not talking about someone who smoked while in college. Someone who smoked for a while did not like the taste in their mouth and quit. I am talking about someone who, when it is single digit cold with snow on the ground will put on several layers of clothes and step outside and ingnite a match stick it to the end of a cigar and bring smoke into his lungs. What words do you speak to possibly make someone have a clue as to how much of an addiction you have and the degree of hell you are now going through. After many, many hours (you see an hour of someone going through withdrawal is much longer that 60 minutes) I came up with:
I want you to cut your freaking arm off!!
When this revelation entered my mind a certain peace came over me. This is what I have done. I have removed a part of my body. Something that was a part of me is now gone. I miss it. I liked having it around.
I now have to learn to live my life without it. I have to reinvent myself. Damn this is good stuff. I need a smoke. When will these cravings stop?
We arrive at the cottage and settle in. Downstairs in the garage are two bicycles. How cool is that? This "stay-cation" is at the place I grew up. I am looking forward to eating a burger at the pier and other quaint things of days gone by.
I have brought some books and a supply of alcohol and our Cuisinart coffee maker. There is not much to do here at this quiet sea side community I grew up in. A fact that caused me a lot of frustration as a youngster but something I cherish now. There is no internet at the cottage and that is okay with me. I really need to have my world turned upside down right now.
The first day or two I spend reading, bike riding, and on the strand. And honestly I am having huge cravings for a smoke. They just will not decrease in intensity. I now have access to a car and I could go and get some but I am not going to let that happen. I do, however, go and buy a kite. When the demons of nicotine rear their head(s) the phrase go fly a kite keeps popping in my head. This becomes an activity that over the course of the week kills several hours. They were bad hours too.
Over the course of time I come to settle on a sofa that over looks the wetlands on the west side of the house. The closer to my God am I. On this sofa I read, sleep, and think and NOT SMOKE. Why in God's green earth won't these cravings get any better. There are a few activities each day that I do that keep my mind off smoking. My bike ride at sunrise, coffee on the deck, flying my kite, reading, and sleeping. Sleeping is the best one but waking up just starts the cycle over again.
So here I am. 49 years old. Trying to end a 33 year old relationship and actually coming to tears from time to time. I love smoking. The warmth of the inhaled smoke as it enters you lungs. The calm that comes over you as the nicotine hits whatever receptors it hits. The quiet contemplation. What non-smokers may not realize is that smokers do their best thinking while smoking. The boss fusses-smoke. The spouse fusses-smoke. The dog bites you-smoke. The friend who is always there. Never takes sides against you. Never judges you. Whenever you need them, there they are are. Everybody says to you that you don't need them.
Now there is not a single smoker that does not know that they should quit. Non-smokers have no idea how tight the grip nicotine has on a smoker. Do you say to the alcoholic just quit, you don't need to drink. Hell no. They have detox programs for drinkers. They have detox programs for all kinds of substances. If they have one for nicotine I don't know of it. In fact some detox programs provide smokes.
What do you say to a non-smoker that might possibilly register in the nicotine free brain that would give them some idea of what I am going through. I am not talking about someone who smoked while in college. Someone who smoked for a while did not like the taste in their mouth and quit. I am talking about someone who, when it is single digit cold with snow on the ground will put on several layers of clothes and step outside and ingnite a match stick it to the end of a cigar and bring smoke into his lungs. What words do you speak to possibly make someone have a clue as to how much of an addiction you have and the degree of hell you are now going through. After many, many hours (you see an hour of someone going through withdrawal is much longer that 60 minutes) I came up with:
I want you to cut your freaking arm off!!
When this revelation entered my mind a certain peace came over me. This is what I have done. I have removed a part of my body. Something that was a part of me is now gone. I miss it. I liked having it around.
I now have to learn to live my life without it. I have to reinvent myself. Damn this is good stuff. I need a smoke. When will these cravings stop?
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Back at home.
I have made up my mind. There is half a cigar in the ashtray in the garage. I will fire up that one, savor it and get on with the hell that is to come. I encounter a problem. The ashtray is empty. My farewell smoke is not going to happen. Darn it all.
I have tried to quit a few times over the years. I have tried the patch, prescription pills, and cold turkey. One thing I know about quitting is to avoid activities that you did when you smoke. I do not smoke inside the house. I go out to the garage and light up there. Everything from a puff to a complete smoke. Just outside the den is my backyard patio. I spent $5,000 building a place that I could grill, drink, and, smoke. I cannot go out there. I start each day by making a pot of coffee. Then the dog and I would go out and get the paper. This was when I would have the glorious first smoke of the day. Well my wife can get the paper now and the dog can use my back patio, I can't. I can't drive for 3 days so the temptation to go and buy some smokes is removed. No one I come in contact with smokes so I can't be tempted that way. Looks like cold turkey. Damn.
I do not really remember these five days between coming home and leaving for the beach. I watched alot of TV, went to bed early and lamented that I wanted that farewell smoke. There is one thing I remember quite well; I went through a whole bunch of Werther's hard candy.
One thing Dr. Holt told me was that if I walked for 30 minutes, 6 days a week, that alone would decrease my risk of a myocardial infarction by 50%. I own a treadmill I just need to get all the stuff stacked on it off and I can use it again. Plus I never smoked while on the treadmill so it would be a period of time each day that I would not think about smoking. I developed the habit of hitting the treadmill first thing each morning during these five days. If it bothers the wife and kids TOUGH.
It is now Saturday and the cravings for a smoke just will not get any better. My doctor's practice has a walk in clinic on Saturday so I go up there to see if I could get something. Valium, marijuana, something. There is a note on the door of the office---No clinic today!! Ok God I hear you loud and clear; I am on my own.
I have never thought the statement "What does not kill you makes you stronger" to be ironic before.
Let's pack for the beach. Please remember the Werther's.
I have tried to quit a few times over the years. I have tried the patch, prescription pills, and cold turkey. One thing I know about quitting is to avoid activities that you did when you smoke. I do not smoke inside the house. I go out to the garage and light up there. Everything from a puff to a complete smoke. Just outside the den is my backyard patio. I spent $5,000 building a place that I could grill, drink, and, smoke. I cannot go out there. I start each day by making a pot of coffee. Then the dog and I would go out and get the paper. This was when I would have the glorious first smoke of the day. Well my wife can get the paper now and the dog can use my back patio, I can't. I can't drive for 3 days so the temptation to go and buy some smokes is removed. No one I come in contact with smokes so I can't be tempted that way. Looks like cold turkey. Damn.
I do not really remember these five days between coming home and leaving for the beach. I watched alot of TV, went to bed early and lamented that I wanted that farewell smoke. There is one thing I remember quite well; I went through a whole bunch of Werther's hard candy.
One thing Dr. Holt told me was that if I walked for 30 minutes, 6 days a week, that alone would decrease my risk of a myocardial infarction by 50%. I own a treadmill I just need to get all the stuff stacked on it off and I can use it again. Plus I never smoked while on the treadmill so it would be a period of time each day that I would not think about smoking. I developed the habit of hitting the treadmill first thing each morning during these five days. If it bothers the wife and kids TOUGH.
It is now Saturday and the cravings for a smoke just will not get any better. My doctor's practice has a walk in clinic on Saturday so I go up there to see if I could get something. Valium, marijuana, something. There is a note on the door of the office---No clinic today!! Ok God I hear you loud and clear; I am on my own.
I have never thought the statement "What does not kill you makes you stronger" to be ironic before.
Let's pack for the beach. Please remember the Werther's.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
In the hospital
My story begins when my cardiologist comes into my hospital room for the discharge consultation.
My relationship with Dr. Holt goes back to Oct. 5 1995. It was on that night that genetics caught up with me and I had a heart attack. Dr. Holt just happened to be hanging out at the hospital that night and was there when they rolled me in. So, with the advancement of medical science and a cardiologist waiting I lived.
Dr. Holt tells me he remembers that night 14 years ago quite well. You see 35 year olds do not survive heart attacks. I am one case he remembers. A rare success story. He goes on to tell me that if I do not quit smoking our relationship will not last another 14 years and one of his success stories will become just another smoking statistic. How he remembers me will be up to me.
There is something about surviving the heart attack in 1995 that needs to be said and I will say it here. My father was one of those "When I say jump, you ask how high" kind of guys. As I was going down the tunnel of light I heard Dr. Holt's voice calling to me to come back. I have always felt that if I had not had such a strict father I would not have come back from this tunnel. It was not just what Dr. Holt learned in medical school that saved me that night; calling to me was a big part.
So there I am. Laying in a hospital bed recovering from the implant of my second stent. And my beloved Dr. Holt drops this bomb in my lap. Quit smoking or die.
Damn. No pressure.
OK. Fifty is right around the corner. New Years resolution. 50th birthday present. I have been wheezing at night lately. Going outside to the smoking area at work has been seeming more and more stupid. I actually have been thinking quitting. But today? Well, we are going to the beach next week. What the hell. Let's do this.
My relationship with Dr. Holt goes back to Oct. 5 1995. It was on that night that genetics caught up with me and I had a heart attack. Dr. Holt just happened to be hanging out at the hospital that night and was there when they rolled me in. So, with the advancement of medical science and a cardiologist waiting I lived.
Dr. Holt tells me he remembers that night 14 years ago quite well. You see 35 year olds do not survive heart attacks. I am one case he remembers. A rare success story. He goes on to tell me that if I do not quit smoking our relationship will not last another 14 years and one of his success stories will become just another smoking statistic. How he remembers me will be up to me.
There is something about surviving the heart attack in 1995 that needs to be said and I will say it here. My father was one of those "When I say jump, you ask how high" kind of guys. As I was going down the tunnel of light I heard Dr. Holt's voice calling to me to come back. I have always felt that if I had not had such a strict father I would not have come back from this tunnel. It was not just what Dr. Holt learned in medical school that saved me that night; calling to me was a big part.
So there I am. Laying in a hospital bed recovering from the implant of my second stent. And my beloved Dr. Holt drops this bomb in my lap. Quit smoking or die.
Damn. No pressure.
OK. Fifty is right around the corner. New Years resolution. 50th birthday present. I have been wheezing at night lately. Going outside to the smoking area at work has been seeming more and more stupid. I actually have been thinking quitting. But today? Well, we are going to the beach next week. What the hell. Let's do this.
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