It is 8:16 a.m. I have already smoked three of my remaining five cigarettes. Ostensibly I’m supposed to save the final two in case I go crazy from cravings. I need to come up with more good reasons to quit because already I can feel myself weakening. It would be so easy to jump into my car, shoot over to the 7-11 and buy another carton. So easy.
My nose is blocked, permanently. I cough up phlegm regularly (which is really disgusting). I worry about every little thing that goes wrong with my body: heartburn, indigestion, hives, constipation, diarrhea, toothaches, nausea, breathlessness, and minor aches and pains. I worry about things that have not yet happened: lazy eye, bronchitis, smoker’s cough, coughing up blood, cancer, heart attacks, and emphysema. The biggest fear I have is that my secondhand smoke will kill my sister or my parents, as we all live in the same house.
I want another cigarette; I want it now.
OK, I have my cigarette. I can continue.
Why, you may ask yourself, isn’t she using one of the crutches now available on the market? There are nicotine patches, nicotine gum, prescription drugs to ease the cravings, hypnosis, laser treatments, and support groups.
The gum and patches are out. If I’m going to take nicotine into my body, I want to enjoy it—I want the damned cigarette! Bad attitude, but that’s the way it is. The drugs available to help quit smoking clash with my current psychiatric meds. In fact, my psychiatrist informed me that if I can’t quit while taking my current meds, none of the new drugs will help me to do so. I have no doubt in my mind that hypnosis and laser treatments would fail, simply because I know I want my cigarettes. No one is going to convince me consciously or subconsciously that I don’t want to smoke. And I am certain support groups would do nothing for me. I already have lots of support. I am the only one in this house who smokes. None of my friends smoke. I’m actually getting reverse peer pressure; that is, my friends are always asking me when I’m going to quit smoking.
And we’ve gone full circle and are back to vanity. I don’t want to look old before my time. My nonsmoking sister is one year older than I, and already I look two years older than she does. That bothers me. Vanity, personal health-related anxiety, and the secondhand smoke issue are the only tools I have that can help me to quit smoking. I wonder if they’re enough. (I have one cigarette left.)
I drink 10 cups of coffee a day, minimum. Coffee and cigarettes, my favorite combination. Do I need to cut down on my coffee intake in order to quit smoking? Probably. I’m not what you’d call a social smoker. Going out to a bar or restaurant does not make me smoke more than the usual. But coffee and cigarettes—heaven on earth!
One left and all I can think is that I want to smoke it now accompanied by a fresh cup of coffee.
I’m a Virgo. We’re supposed to be the clean living, health conscious types. How did I stray so far from my basic makeup? I’m pretty sure that depression played a major role in my commencing to smoke. Back when I was a teenager, I didn’t really care if I were to die young. Aging changes everything! The older I get, the more I want to live, the more I fear death.
My aunt is a Virgo. She quit smoking using the cold turkey method. She has succeeded admirably. She has not had so much as a puff of a cigarette since she quit.
Do I have any quitting strategies in place? I don’t want to replace smoking with some other habit: chewing gum, eating mints, eating too much of anything. I do plan on drinking a lot of water. My main strategy is this book. That last cigarette is gone—I smoked it.
I am keeping this manuscript in a pink folder, which is no accident. Pink is the color my lungs should be. I’ve been wearing a lot of grey colors this past year to remind myself that grey is the color of my poor, battered lungs. I do have one more strategy: sleep.
The governor has issued me a reprieve. (I went and bought another carton of cigarettes. I’m going to try that weaning thing again.)
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