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?