Today is Day 45.
I still haven't given in.
But the impulses are still there, albeit with decreased frequency. There have even been a couple of occasions within the past 2 weeks, where I've said it aloud, "F**k, I wanna smoke a cigarette!!" That's probably normal for any abstinent addict to say. But for me, I don't want to smoke a cigarette; I just want the craving to subide. But these times, I did. I wanted to actually suck that carcinogenic smog through a vestigial filter...so...badly.
This passes soon enough.
But I have not been without failure.
Two days ago marked the beginning of Week 7. The significance of the 7th week is that, in accordance to the instructions accompanying the nicotine lozenges, I am to cut back on my dosage. What was 1 lozenge every 1 to 2 hours should now be 1 every 3-4 hours.
I have failed to make this adjustment. I still have one every 2 hours, on average. This only reinforces the notion that I have merely traded my medium, and my addiction remains.
To make an A+, I think I would have had to quit cold turkey, permanently, with no nicotine replacement therapy. I think I'm doing pretty well, but if I give myself a B, then I won't feel any need to work on my deficiency.
C+
Friday, March 27, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
He and Phlegming
Here I am at 1 month, 3 days cigarette free.
I have noticed that my coughing has cleared up dramatically, which includes general "throat clearing."
I used to clear my throat constantly, throughout speech.
My Smoker's Cough was pretty bad. It was like a calling card. In fact, more than one former roommate told me they knew I had come home because they heard me cough. It was like a decrepit, indirect version of "Honey, I'm home!" (not that I'd ever refer to any roommate as "Honey" in anything other than jest).
Any childhood dreams of double-O'ing for MI6 or excelling in any ryu of Ninjutsu were dashed on the rocks by such self inflicted damage resulting from my addiction.
But then, James Bond was a smoker (see this link, although info not cited; or research for yourself). Perhaps not so much in the movies, as the years went on, as direct links to lung cancer and heart disease are more openly pointed out, and pressure to dissuade increased. (Also, beginning with The Living Daylights, he didn't get to bang as many chicks per movie, as AIDS awareness came into vogue.)
It must have been feared that 007, being the ultimate role model for awkward, pubescent males, may influence them to take up cigarettes themselves. That would be a much easier Bond characteristic to emulate than his other abilities, such as physical stamina, hand-to-hand combat, extreme snow skiing, or wooing the hottest women on the face of the earth into bed within 0-2 hours.
Show him killing and maiming thousands of people with impunity, fine. But God forbid we show him smoking.
How was he (for example) able to sneak up on security goons in silence? The answer: he is a fictional character. Simple as that. In reality, someone who "smokes sixty per day" could not be silent for long without at least some minute wheeze, especially after all the running, climbing, jumping to get there. Besides, he would bear a perpetual aura of stench that would portent his approach, silent or otherwise.
Oh, and forget about those scenes of holding his breath underwater for absurd lengths of time.
His creator was a heavy smoker as well. Interesting that the author's last name is Flemming, as well. (Get it? Smoking...makes you, heh, cough up phlegm? Heh.)
Anyway, the other thing that is just amazing me lately is that I can actually inhale long and deep.
I don't feel that my lung capacity has increased per se. It's just that, before, I could only take in a very small increment of air into my lungs without feeling a tickling in my throat. This tickling would instantly trigger a coughing fit.
So I find myself pausing to draw as much air as my lungs will hold and exhaling slowly, in wonderment. But, as I said, I still don't seem to be able to fill them to the level I feel they should be able to hold. But it's so great to do so without doubling over, coughing and hacking.
What I really need to do is begin some rudimentary, realistically-demanding cardiovascular exercise regimen. But, we'll see how that goes...
In conclusion, although the point of this entry is to acknowledge some improvement, I still have some coughing/hacking fits. For example, immediately after consuming my lunch today. But by comparison, such episodes come much, much less intensely/frequently. And besides, I've been warned that after quitting, one 's throat regains some sensitivity, and there is some purging to be had.
I have noticed that my coughing has cleared up dramatically, which includes general "throat clearing."
I used to clear my throat constantly, throughout speech.
My Smoker's Cough was pretty bad. It was like a calling card. In fact, more than one former roommate told me they knew I had come home because they heard me cough. It was like a decrepit, indirect version of "Honey, I'm home!" (not that I'd ever refer to any roommate as "Honey" in anything other than jest).
Any childhood dreams of double-O'ing for MI6 or excelling in any ryu of Ninjutsu were dashed on the rocks by such self inflicted damage resulting from my addiction.
But then, James Bond was a smoker (see this link, although info not cited; or research for yourself). Perhaps not so much in the movies, as the years went on, as direct links to lung cancer and heart disease are more openly pointed out, and pressure to dissuade increased. (Also, beginning with The Living Daylights, he didn't get to bang as many chicks per movie, as AIDS awareness came into vogue.)
It must have been feared that 007, being the ultimate role model for awkward, pubescent males, may influence them to take up cigarettes themselves. That would be a much easier Bond characteristic to emulate than his other abilities, such as physical stamina, hand-to-hand combat, extreme snow skiing, or wooing the hottest women on the face of the earth into bed within 0-2 hours.
Show him killing and maiming thousands of people with impunity, fine. But God forbid we show him smoking.
How was he (for example) able to sneak up on security goons in silence? The answer: he is a fictional character. Simple as that. In reality, someone who "smokes sixty per day" could not be silent for long without at least some minute wheeze, especially after all the running, climbing, jumping to get there. Besides, he would bear a perpetual aura of stench that would portent his approach, silent or otherwise.
Oh, and forget about those scenes of holding his breath underwater for absurd lengths of time.
His creator was a heavy smoker as well. Interesting that the author's last name is Flemming, as well. (Get it? Smoking...makes you, heh, cough up phlegm? Heh.)
Anyway, the other thing that is just amazing me lately is that I can actually inhale long and deep.
I don't feel that my lung capacity has increased per se. It's just that, before, I could only take in a very small increment of air into my lungs without feeling a tickling in my throat. This tickling would instantly trigger a coughing fit.
So I find myself pausing to draw as much air as my lungs will hold and exhaling slowly, in wonderment. But, as I said, I still don't seem to be able to fill them to the level I feel they should be able to hold. But it's so great to do so without doubling over, coughing and hacking.
What I really need to do is begin some rudimentary, realistically-demanding cardiovascular exercise regimen. But, we'll see how that goes...
In conclusion, although the point of this entry is to acknowledge some improvement, I still have some coughing/hacking fits. For example, immediately after consuming my lunch today. But by comparison, such episodes come much, much less intensely/frequently. And besides, I've been warned that after quitting, one 's throat regains some sensitivity, and there is some purging to be had.
Friday, March 6, 2009
The Sax Man
I had a friend who played saxophone. He was a schooled, versatile and passionate jazz player.
He smoked cigarettes, full time.
He also had experienced a collapsed lung.
Despite the above being enough, obvious incentive/deterant, in addition to desperately wanting to, he simply could not stop smoking.
Personally, due to my smoking damage, I have trouble blowing up balloons, or inflating floatation devices and without getting a massive head rush. I can only imagine blowing out several, sustained notes on brass or woodwind and getting light headed. Playing a whole concert, or hell, a whole song on stage, under the lights, I could easily pass unconscious.
Also, being an artistic type, he created a conceptual art piece / personal service announcement, which hung on the wall above the head of his bed.
His brand of choice was a menthol, named and packaged to seem 'upper crust.' I had a run at charring / crystalizing my own lungs with the same, taking influence from him.
This piece of art was a framed, goldenrod matte board about 36" wide by 24" tall. A number of his empty cigarette hard packs were glued to the matte board, in a formation spelling out, in large, capital letters, the word "NO."
It was baffling to many of his peers, especially the non-smokers, of course, why a saxophonist who had a collapsed lung (quite intelligent, to boot) could possibly continue to smoke.
This was one of my early, living illustrations of the severity of nicotine addiction.
The art piece, in all it's creative valiance, ultimately proved to be ineffectual. (He was also using 'the patch.')
He smoked cigarettes, full time.
He also had experienced a collapsed lung.
Despite the above being enough, obvious incentive/deterant, in addition to desperately wanting to, he simply could not stop smoking.
Personally, due to my smoking damage, I have trouble blowing up balloons, or inflating floatation devices and without getting a massive head rush. I can only imagine blowing out several, sustained notes on brass or woodwind and getting light headed. Playing a whole concert, or hell, a whole song on stage, under the lights, I could easily pass unconscious.
Also, being an artistic type, he created a conceptual art piece / personal service announcement, which hung on the wall above the head of his bed.
His brand of choice was a menthol, named and packaged to seem 'upper crust.' I had a run at charring / crystalizing my own lungs with the same, taking influence from him.
This piece of art was a framed, goldenrod matte board about 36" wide by 24" tall. A number of his empty cigarette hard packs were glued to the matte board, in a formation spelling out, in large, capital letters, the word "NO."
It was baffling to many of his peers, especially the non-smokers, of course, why a saxophonist who had a collapsed lung (quite intelligent, to boot) could possibly continue to smoke.
This was one of my early, living illustrations of the severity of nicotine addiction.
The art piece, in all it's creative valiance, ultimately proved to be ineffectual. (He was also using 'the patch.')
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Depression
I get that tingle in my nose. I feel the muscles and skin of my cheeks and mouth giving gravity leverage. A wave of despair fills in. For about 30 seconds I am crippled with a feeling of utter hopelessness and futility. A quick, flashing montage runs through my head of everything that has gone wrong, and all that can potentially go wrong in the areas of my life that are the most consequential.
It's like a rain cloud quickly accumulating, building and moving in the sky above my head. It reaches maximum density, and pours down right overhead.
And then, after less than a minute, it's gone, leaving everything the same as it was. I'm alive, I'm not smoking, and the world keeps turning.
Often the thoughts accompanying this emotional surge are vague enough to clue me in on the truth; these are merely symptoms of a chemical depression and a normal part of withdrawal for many abstaining smokers.
It's like a rain cloud quickly accumulating, building and moving in the sky above my head. It reaches maximum density, and pours down right overhead.
And then, after less than a minute, it's gone, leaving everything the same as it was. I'm alive, I'm not smoking, and the world keeps turning.
Often the thoughts accompanying this emotional surge are vague enough to clue me in on the truth; these are merely symptoms of a chemical depression and a normal part of withdrawal for many abstaining smokers.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
कोउघिंग एंड Hacking
The title of this blog entry is Coughing and Hacking.
This post was mysteriously published in Hindi. Not sure why. And I'm not sure why the word Hacking remained in it's native.
Never did it before, even with the transliteration option enabled. Paranaoia whispered that I'd been hacked, but that's absurd. Why? To redirect the avalanche of bounty invoked by my advertising revenue?*
Ok, back to business...cigs, nic, quitting...depression. That's next.
* Sarcasm.
This post was mysteriously published in Hindi. Not sure why. And I'm not sure why the word Hacking remained in it's native.
Never did it before, even with the transliteration option enabled. Paranaoia whispered that I'd been hacked, but that's absurd. Why? To redirect the avalanche of bounty invoked by my advertising revenue?*
Ok, back to business...cigs, nic, quitting...depression. That's next.
* Sarcasm.
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