Stacy Keach was the guest for an extensive interview on The Adam Carolla Show today.
In going through his life and career, the conversation naturally moved toward Keach's well known cocaine bust at Heathrow Airport in 1984.
He said that his cocaine addiction at that time was to the point that he is convinced that getting busted may very well have saved his life.
In prison, he was forced into unaided detoxification. He went from doing cocaine all day/every day/night to complete abstinence.
He was also a heavy cigarette smoker.
When asked how painful it was to quit cocaine cold-turkey, he said it wasn't that bad. It was being deprived of cigarettes that was excruciating. Giving up cocaine was easy for him, compared to quitting smoking.
Showing posts with label nicotine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nicotine. Show all posts
Monday, March 14, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Looking Back
Some things in life look better the smaller they get in your rear view mirror. After they are out of sight, they are at the mercy of selective memory. They lose weight, warts disappear, etc.
This can easily happen with cigarettes in the mind of the quitter.
I'm coming up on 2 years post-smoking.
That feeling still occasionally sweeps over me; an imagined rushing sensation, as in the anticipation of that first suck off a lit cigarette. Often, it's seeing someone on the screen/monitor taking in a much needed, very satisfying whiff of first-hand smoke that triggers it.
It seems like the memory of pleasurable aspects of smoking remain eternally intact. They can re-enter the mind at any time effortlessly or despite any effort to suppress them.
The detrimental aspects -- all the things terrible things associated with smoking, from perpetual coughing, the stench of all surrounding cloth, the nagging need that makes everything in between cigarettes an excruciating ordeal, etc. -- however, seem to take a concerted effort to retain. You have to perpetually remind yourself...in explicit terms.
By the way, I can't imagine being able to successfully quit smoking while drinking alcohol on a regular basis. Get a buzz on, and the aforementioned concerted effort dissolves in the foam.
This can easily happen with cigarettes in the mind of the quitter.
I'm coming up on 2 years post-smoking.
That feeling still occasionally sweeps over me; an imagined rushing sensation, as in the anticipation of that first suck off a lit cigarette. Often, it's seeing someone on the screen/monitor taking in a much needed, very satisfying whiff of first-hand smoke that triggers it.
It seems like the memory of pleasurable aspects of smoking remain eternally intact. They can re-enter the mind at any time effortlessly or despite any effort to suppress them.
The detrimental aspects -- all the things terrible things associated with smoking, from perpetual coughing, the stench of all surrounding cloth, the nagging need that makes everything in between cigarettes an excruciating ordeal, etc. -- however, seem to take a concerted effort to retain. You have to perpetually remind yourself...in explicit terms.
By the way, I can't imagine being able to successfully quit smoking while drinking alcohol on a regular basis. Get a buzz on, and the aforementioned concerted effort dissolves in the foam.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
1 Year Anniversary!
Yesterday marks the end of the first year I have gone without taking a single puff off of a cigarette.*
Pretty amazing.
Equally amazing is that I still had a craving yesterday.
I'm convinced that I'll never be safely free from it's grasp. A lapse in vigilance could lead to an instant slip back in the giant ashtray.
* 7.5 months free of nicotine replacement products
Pretty amazing.
Equally amazing is that I still had a craving yesterday.
I'm convinced that I'll never be safely free from it's grasp. A lapse in vigilance could lead to an instant slip back in the giant ashtray.
* 7.5 months free of nicotine replacement products
Friday, September 4, 2009
I haven't posted in a while, but I feel like I would just be posting the same content as my previous entry.
The cravings are still happening. It's almost like a resurgance. It's just part of the evil plan. "You're treating with the Devil."
This would be easier to understand if I had cheated at some recent point; snuck in a cig' here, bummed a drag there. But I haven't. No nicotine in any form.
A quitter just has to keep the guard up at all times...for the remainder of life, apparently.
The cravings are still happening. It's almost like a resurgance. It's just part of the evil plan. "You're treating with the Devil."
This would be easier to understand if I had cheated at some recent point; snuck in a cig' here, bummed a drag there. But I haven't. No nicotine in any form.
A quitter just has to keep the guard up at all times...for the remainder of life, apparently.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Still Craving!
After 5 months I still get cravings. F**king still.
A couple times a week, I'll feel an overwhelming urge to grit my teeth and smash something, during which I realize that I'm having a craving for nicotine.
A few days ago, while waiting for my lunch, I had the gnarliest craving I've had in months.
Back when I was smoking (heh), I was in the routine of clocking out for lunch and going to the roach coach to order my food. Then I would light up and be able to smoke about half the cig' before my food was ready.
To be outside was to be able to smoke. Therefore, waiting until after I ordered the food put a teasing delay on my noon nicotine. Normally I would light up as soon as daylight hit my head.
So it was there, right after ordering my food, as I still do every week day, that this craving belted me.
All I can do is inhale deeeeeeep lungs-full of air, exhale....inhale, long and deep...exhale; feeling a reminder of the improvement in my lung capacity.
A couple times a week, I'll feel an overwhelming urge to grit my teeth and smash something, during which I realize that I'm having a craving for nicotine.
A few days ago, while waiting for my lunch, I had the gnarliest craving I've had in months.
Back when I was smoking (heh), I was in the routine of clocking out for lunch and going to the roach coach to order my food. Then I would light up and be able to smoke about half the cig' before my food was ready.
To be outside was to be able to smoke. Therefore, waiting until after I ordered the food put a teasing delay on my noon nicotine. Normally I would light up as soon as daylight hit my head.
So it was there, right after ordering my food, as I still do every week day, that this craving belted me.
All I can do is inhale deeeeeeep lungs-full of air, exhale....inhale, long and deep...exhale; feeling a reminder of the improvement in my lung capacity.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
The Joys of Not Smoking: Jury Duty
Well, that's not quite right. There aren't so much joys of not-smoking. There's no joy in not smoking itself.
Joy can only be derived from not smoking in contrast to smoking; or rather being a smoker.
Now, during the quitting process, not smoking is actually excruciatingly painful, while smoking is the only and direct relief from that agony. The rewards of quitting smoking are very slow in creeping in, after months of anguish, in direct opposition to the immediate rush of relief when that first suck of smoke hits the lungs.
In this period* of abstinence from smoking, I've found myself in a few situations that really make me really appreciate the fact that I quit**. I've got to savor those feeling and ingrain them, because these are some of the things that will strengthen my mind in preventing relapse.
One shining example was...jury duty.
I had jury duty recently. Although it was nice to not be at my usual dead end day job, I was lucky to only have to actually show up to the court house for one day.
My assigned courthouse was in a community where even the rat holes have burglar bars. It is a 13 storey building, with 5 out of 6 very slow elevators operational. The stairs are off limits except in emergencies, and the user does not determine what constitutes an emergency. If a stairwell is entered, there is immediate, armed response.
It's not too bad at 7:30am, but after about 2 hours, the place is packed with all kinds people, none of whom are happy to be there. Many are expressing this, and may look at you as if you are responsible.
All of these people cram in the hot elevator waiting room, waiting for one of the tortoise-drawn elevators to return from it's journey around the sun. You've got power suited lawyers; drunk/stoned, tattood gangsters; entire families bawling post-verdict; police; junkies/tweakers; average joes, etc, etc, all trying to cram in this room to get on the next elevator. Since they seem to arrive so few and far between, it is necessary to pack bodies in to each car like sardines.
Needless to say, it is something anyone can die happy without having experienced.
Now, what about smoking? Well, if you want to smoke you have to go outside. Like on the balcony? The roof? What, no smokers' lounge? Nope. The only way is to deal with the elevator situation.
I can't imagine having to deal with that every time I needed a smoke. And I constantly needed a smoke. Well, actually I can imagine it. It just would have been torture, all day long. I would either be sitting in there jonesing like hell, dreading the attendant tribulation of the elevator journey. Or actually enduring it. After finally being down and outside to smoke, with all the nice folks hanging out there; by the time I got back up to the waiting room, it will have taken so much time I will be ready for another cigarette.
As I pondered, remembered and imagined all of this, the waiting room at jury duty surpassed comfortable and approached the luxurious.
--
* By this period, I refer to a time where the agony of withdrawel has subsided to a tolerable level, but I don't yet necessarily feel entirely invulnerable to relapse.
** I feel the need to clarify that when I claim to have quit nicotine, I say so with the understanding that I will be on a slippery slope for the remainder of my life. Just as an alcoholic is eternally addicted to booze, I am in danger of reverting back immediately and deeply into smoking at any time.
Joy can only be derived from not smoking in contrast to smoking; or rather being a smoker.
Now, during the quitting process, not smoking is actually excruciatingly painful, while smoking is the only and direct relief from that agony. The rewards of quitting smoking are very slow in creeping in, after months of anguish, in direct opposition to the immediate rush of relief when that first suck of smoke hits the lungs.
In this period* of abstinence from smoking, I've found myself in a few situations that really make me really appreciate the fact that I quit**. I've got to savor those feeling and ingrain them, because these are some of the things that will strengthen my mind in preventing relapse.
One shining example was...jury duty.
I had jury duty recently. Although it was nice to not be at my usual dead end day job, I was lucky to only have to actually show up to the court house for one day.
My assigned courthouse was in a community where even the rat holes have burglar bars. It is a 13 storey building, with 5 out of 6 very slow elevators operational. The stairs are off limits except in emergencies, and the user does not determine what constitutes an emergency. If a stairwell is entered, there is immediate, armed response.
It's not too bad at 7:30am, but after about 2 hours, the place is packed with all kinds people, none of whom are happy to be there. Many are expressing this, and may look at you as if you are responsible.
All of these people cram in the hot elevator waiting room, waiting for one of the tortoise-drawn elevators to return from it's journey around the sun. You've got power suited lawyers; drunk/stoned, tattood gangsters; entire families bawling post-verdict; police; junkies/tweakers; average joes, etc, etc, all trying to cram in this room to get on the next elevator. Since they seem to arrive so few and far between, it is necessary to pack bodies in to each car like sardines.
Needless to say, it is something anyone can die happy without having experienced.
Now, what about smoking? Well, if you want to smoke you have to go outside. Like on the balcony? The roof? What, no smokers' lounge? Nope. The only way is to deal with the elevator situation.
I can't imagine having to deal with that every time I needed a smoke. And I constantly needed a smoke. Well, actually I can imagine it. It just would have been torture, all day long. I would either be sitting in there jonesing like hell, dreading the attendant tribulation of the elevator journey. Or actually enduring it. After finally being down and outside to smoke, with all the nice folks hanging out there; by the time I got back up to the waiting room, it will have taken so much time I will be ready for another cigarette.
As I pondered, remembered and imagined all of this, the waiting room at jury duty surpassed comfortable and approached the luxurious.
--
* By this period, I refer to a time where the agony of withdrawel has subsided to a tolerable level, but I don't yet necessarily feel entirely invulnerable to relapse.
** I feel the need to clarify that when I claim to have quit nicotine, I say so with the understanding that I will be on a slippery slope for the remainder of my life. Just as an alcoholic is eternally addicted to booze, I am in danger of reverting back immediately and deeply into smoking at any time.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Does it ever really end?
Kowalski, progress report!
It's been 3 weeks since my last nicotine lozenge (132 days since my last cigarette).
I'm still having cravings.
Does it ever really end?
They say that an alcoholic will always be an alcoholic. There is no cure; only abstinence and recovery. Is it the same for nicotine addicts?
It's been 3 weeks since my last nicotine lozenge (132 days since my last cigarette).
I'm still having cravings.
Does it ever really end?
They say that an alcoholic will always be an alcoholic. There is no cure; only abstinence and recovery. Is it the same for nicotine addicts?
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Snus!
In reading about an overseas acquaintance of mine, I came across a brief survey.
When asked about his nasty habits, he answered, "Snus."
~~~~~~~~
Before I continue, I must digress with an aside: What the hell is a snu?
Well, snus is not the plural form of snu. Snus (which rhymes with noose, not snooze) is (not are) Swedish snuff. Camel now offers it in the U.S. as little packets, similar to the ol' Skoal Bandits. The difference with snus is that allegedly, you don't have to spit out the juice. So you can pretty much pop one between your cheek and gum anytime/anywhere and nic' up fairly unnoticed.
~~~~~~~~
He and I have some basic things in common, and my imagination fills in the gaps so that I can relate to (my perception of) his story.
We both are males of the same age with 1 child and very generally have similar lines of work, temperament, self-esteem, etc.
In continuing to weave a fictitious tale based on my personal interpretation of little factual knowledge, I would say:
He smoked cigarettes before his daughter came along. He tried to quit, and found it to be beyond his power, as most of do; especially under the stress of being a slacker/artistic type suddenly expected to transform into a bread-winning father.
Snus was right there waiting; such a simple solution! No need to go through the never ending hell of withdrawel; you don't have to quit; you just switch over to snus. No second hand smoke to damage your family's lungs with; no foul smells in the air, on your clothes, apolstery, etc. Even the disgusting constant necessity to spit out the juice into a makeshift spitoon that comes with chewing tobacco or dip is gone!
I just barely slipped past the snus trap. Just (in falsetto:) baaaaaaarely.
When I bought what was to be my final pack of cigarettes, I was given a free promotional gift by the clerk behind the mini-market counter. It was a little tin of Camel Snus. Brand new product; try it!
I was scared of it, for some reason.
I think I was afraid because I didn't know how to guage the intake/impact. I thought I might overdose on nicotine, and feel sick. I wouldn't go without a cigarette for long enough to clear my system enough to take nicotine in an additional form.
Also, I sensed (imagined) some evil about it, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It just seemed to be another way to get people addicted. With many of the stigmas associated with smoking removed through this product, tobacco companies can still thrive and reap profits in a world where smoking might actually decline.
I feel lucky I chose to quit when I did, and that I used the lozenges rather than snus. Snus arrived in my awareness at a very critical time. If I had given in to try it, I would have definitely switched over to it. To the rest of the world, I could say, "I quit smoking!" but really I just switched products.
Obviously, I did, in fact, switch products; from cigarettes to lozenges. What would be the difference if I had switched to snus instead of lozenges? Well, I believe that the lozenges contain less nicotine, but more importantly less of all the other toxic chemical additives that enhance the tobacco products making them more addictive. I think the lozenges are less addictive and therefore somewhat less difficult to quit taking.
The idea of the nicotine replacement is the same as methadone for junkies, I believe. The replacement is only supposed to be temporary. One makes` the switch in order to get off the hard stuff immediately without one's body being shocked too drastically. You are switching to a less dangerous alternative to ease the severity of withdrawel symptoms. But eventually you have to stop taking the replacement to truly be a successful quitter.
When asked about his nasty habits, he answered, "Snus."
~~~~~~~~
Before I continue, I must digress with an aside: What the hell is a snu?
Well, snus is not the plural form of snu. Snus (which rhymes with noose, not snooze) is (not are) Swedish snuff. Camel now offers it in the U.S. as little packets, similar to the ol' Skoal Bandits. The difference with snus is that allegedly, you don't have to spit out the juice. So you can pretty much pop one between your cheek and gum anytime/anywhere and nic' up fairly unnoticed.
~~~~~~~~
He and I have some basic things in common, and my imagination fills in the gaps so that I can relate to (my perception of) his story.
We both are males of the same age with 1 child and very generally have similar lines of work, temperament, self-esteem, etc.
In continuing to weave a fictitious tale based on my personal interpretation of little factual knowledge, I would say:
He smoked cigarettes before his daughter came along. He tried to quit, and found it to be beyond his power, as most of do; especially under the stress of being a slacker/artistic type suddenly expected to transform into a bread-winning father.
Snus was right there waiting; such a simple solution! No need to go through the never ending hell of withdrawel; you don't have to quit; you just switch over to snus. No second hand smoke to damage your family's lungs with; no foul smells in the air, on your clothes, apolstery, etc. Even the disgusting constant necessity to spit out the juice into a makeshift spitoon that comes with chewing tobacco or dip is gone!
I just barely slipped past the snus trap. Just (in falsetto:) baaaaaaarely.
When I bought what was to be my final pack of cigarettes, I was given a free promotional gift by the clerk behind the mini-market counter. It was a little tin of Camel Snus. Brand new product; try it!
I was scared of it, for some reason.
I think I was afraid because I didn't know how to guage the intake/impact. I thought I might overdose on nicotine, and feel sick. I wouldn't go without a cigarette for long enough to clear my system enough to take nicotine in an additional form.
Also, I sensed (imagined) some evil about it, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It just seemed to be another way to get people addicted. With many of the stigmas associated with smoking removed through this product, tobacco companies can still thrive and reap profits in a world where smoking might actually decline.
I feel lucky I chose to quit when I did, and that I used the lozenges rather than snus. Snus arrived in my awareness at a very critical time. If I had given in to try it, I would have definitely switched over to it. To the rest of the world, I could say, "I quit smoking!" but really I just switched products.
Obviously, I did, in fact, switch products; from cigarettes to lozenges. What would be the difference if I had switched to snus instead of lozenges? Well, I believe that the lozenges contain less nicotine, but more importantly less of all the other toxic chemical additives that enhance the tobacco products making them more addictive. I think the lozenges are less addictive and therefore somewhat less difficult to quit taking.
The idea of the nicotine replacement is the same as methadone for junkies, I believe. The replacement is only supposed to be temporary. One makes` the switch in order to get off the hard stuff immediately without one's body being shocked too drastically. You are switching to a less dangerous alternative to ease the severity of withdrawel symptoms. But eventually you have to stop taking the replacement to truly be a successful quitter.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Weight Gain
Gee, I quit smoking and didn't gain weight. Wow.
Oh, wait...I replaced cig's with lozenges. Now that the lozenges are gone, how do I reward myself with little cheap thrills every couple of hours a day?
I think if I'm to be a stereotypical quit-smoking-weight-gainer, it will begin now.
Goddamn, I want a lozenge right now. Just some little tingly buzz. Something!
If I was to take a drink or smoke marijuana, it wouldn't help. Rather than distract me, it would increase the desire for nicotine, as well as break down my resistance. Drinking always breaks down discipline, and makes you susceptible to saying "f**k it" to any responsiblity.
I chew these little pillow-shaped pieces of sugarless gum. I buy the little plastic jars of them. They help with the oral fixation to some small degree, but nothing is ever enough.
I just carry on, day after day, hoping the desire will fade; that I'll get over it, or at least get used to it.
Oh, wait...I replaced cig's with lozenges. Now that the lozenges are gone, how do I reward myself with little cheap thrills every couple of hours a day?
I think if I'm to be a stereotypical quit-smoking-weight-gainer, it will begin now.
Goddamn, I want a lozenge right now. Just some little tingly buzz. Something!
If I was to take a drink or smoke marijuana, it wouldn't help. Rather than distract me, it would increase the desire for nicotine, as well as break down my resistance. Drinking always breaks down discipline, and makes you susceptible to saying "f**k it" to any responsiblity.
I chew these little pillow-shaped pieces of sugarless gum. I buy the little plastic jars of them. They help with the oral fixation to some small degree, but nothing is ever enough.
I just carry on, day after day, hoping the desire will fade; that I'll get over it, or at least get used to it.
Monday, July 6, 2009
1 Week Nicotine Free
I am now 1 week nicotine free.
I reached a point in my nicotine replacement program and plateaued.
To summarize:
For the first 4 weeks or so, I used one 4mg lozenge every 1.5 to 3 hours.
Then I switched to the 2mg (lower strength) lozenges, but didn't change the schedule. Or if I did, I soon drifted back into the same frequency.
And there I remained for well after the 12 week mark (which is the time by which one should have systematically weaned off entirely)...16 weeks, I believe. =shrug=
When I ran into friends, I told them that I quit smoking, and that now I'm addicted to nicotine lozenges instead. There seemed no end in sight.
I knew it would be at some unforseen moment where circumstances coincide with a thrust of willpower. But when would this arise, and how could I make it or help it happen?
The stars aligned on a Tuesday (like the day I stopped cigarettes), June 30th. The unconnected events of nicotine supply depletion and becoming terribly ill (extreme nausea followed by violent vomiting, leading into the flu) paved the way for me to lay off the lozenges for a bit.
This is how lemonade is made.
As long as I could keep the temptation of buying a new pack of lozenges at bay, I could try to hold out and rough it. Just a few more days, and the worst of the painful cravings will pass; or so I have read.
So, here I am, a week later. Still having flashes of cold sweats every 1/2 hour or so. Still snapping into extreme anger over the slightest annoyance. Still craving at least one of the chemicals that became such an integral part of my physiology for about 2 decades.
But, hey! I'm 1 week nicotine free!
I reached a point in my nicotine replacement program and plateaued.
To summarize:
For the first 4 weeks or so, I used one 4mg lozenge every 1.5 to 3 hours.
Then I switched to the 2mg (lower strength) lozenges, but didn't change the schedule. Or if I did, I soon drifted back into the same frequency.
And there I remained for well after the 12 week mark (which is the time by which one should have systematically weaned off entirely)...16 weeks, I believe. =shrug=
When I ran into friends, I told them that I quit smoking, and that now I'm addicted to nicotine lozenges instead. There seemed no end in sight.
I knew it would be at some unforseen moment where circumstances coincide with a thrust of willpower. But when would this arise, and how could I make it or help it happen?
The stars aligned on a Tuesday (like the day I stopped cigarettes), June 30th. The unconnected events of nicotine supply depletion and becoming terribly ill (extreme nausea followed by violent vomiting, leading into the flu) paved the way for me to lay off the lozenges for a bit.
This is how lemonade is made.
As long as I could keep the temptation of buying a new pack of lozenges at bay, I could try to hold out and rough it. Just a few more days, and the worst of the painful cravings will pass; or so I have read.
So, here I am, a week later. Still having flashes of cold sweats every 1/2 hour or so. Still snapping into extreme anger over the slightest annoyance. Still craving at least one of the chemicals that became such an integral part of my physiology for about 2 decades.
But, hey! I'm 1 week nicotine free!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Using illness as excuse to quit lozenges?
I haven't had a nicotine lozenge in about 3.5 days.
Seems ignorable if I were to go out and buy some today or tomorrow.
It wasn't necessarily a conscious choice to stop using them. [What the hell do we call it any way: taking them? Using them? Sucking on them?] I just got horribly sick that day.
Around lunch time, I started feeling nauseous and generally, physically strange. Coincidentally, I had run out of lozenges. I started feeling sick before the usual after-lunch lozenge-popping time.
Well the sickness ran it's course: nausea to violent vomiting binge to fatigue to aches to chills to hot (back'n'forth) to headache to...better!
So now, I am feeling spells of cold sweats, but now I know it's the lack of nicotine. I'm feeling it now as I type it, and I'll probably feel it every hour (at least) for the next few days.
Can I do it? Can I actually be not only cigarette free (yes, I still have not smoked since March '09), but NICOTINE free!?
Stay tuned....
Seems ignorable if I were to go out and buy some today or tomorrow.
It wasn't necessarily a conscious choice to stop using them. [What the hell do we call it any way: taking them? Using them? Sucking on them?] I just got horribly sick that day.
Around lunch time, I started feeling nauseous and generally, physically strange. Coincidentally, I had run out of lozenges. I started feeling sick before the usual after-lunch lozenge-popping time.
Well the sickness ran it's course: nausea to violent vomiting binge to fatigue to aches to chills to hot (back'n'forth) to headache to...better!
So now, I am feeling spells of cold sweats, but now I know it's the lack of nicotine. I'm feeling it now as I type it, and I'll probably feel it every hour (at least) for the next few days.
Can I do it? Can I actually be not only cigarette free (yes, I still have not smoked since March '09), but NICOTINE free!?
Stay tuned....
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
I hate it!
It's the last day of Week 12 of my cigarette abstinence.
The first day of the 12th week is the first day I should be nicotine free entirely. I was expected to have successfully weened off the lozenges at that point. I'm still stuck at around the success level of a 2 Weeker. And I f**king hate it.
Every time I reach for a lozenge and pop it free of it's blister pack, I feel the subtle excitement in taking a form of action to achieve a level of relief from some vaguely nagging feeling.
Shortly after, I feel a pressure in my chest, a slight nausea and acid indigestion burn. This is followed by a feeling of disgust, and self loathing.
I'm angry that I'm stuck here in this quagmire. The comfort of knowing that I'm not taking in the deadly smoke has faded.
Someone told me, or I read somewhere, something about how long it takes for a habit to imbed itself. I believe the idea was that if I do something for 20 days or so, the habit will stick, or 20 days without and the habit will loosen...or...what the hell am I talking about!? I can't even think straight right now, as the burning in my stomach is increasing.
Aaarrrrgghhh!!! I hate it!
All of it!
I've actually moved backward. I got to a point where I could go 2-3 hours between lozenges (to be clear, I mean the time between putting one in my mouth to putting the next one in my mouth; not between one being dissolved/spit out and popping in the next one). Now, although, I occasionally go 3 hours between, it's usually 2 hours or less. Sometimes I can only go an hour before dropping the next.
I hate it. And I just can't seem to apply the discipline to get back on track; to force myself to wait longer. I need another quantum leap.
The first day of the 12th week is the first day I should be nicotine free entirely. I was expected to have successfully weened off the lozenges at that point. I'm still stuck at around the success level of a 2 Weeker. And I f**king hate it.
Every time I reach for a lozenge and pop it free of it's blister pack, I feel the subtle excitement in taking a form of action to achieve a level of relief from some vaguely nagging feeling.
Shortly after, I feel a pressure in my chest, a slight nausea and acid indigestion burn. This is followed by a feeling of disgust, and self loathing.
I'm angry that I'm stuck here in this quagmire. The comfort of knowing that I'm not taking in the deadly smoke has faded.
Someone told me, or I read somewhere, something about how long it takes for a habit to imbed itself. I believe the idea was that if I do something for 20 days or so, the habit will stick, or 20 days without and the habit will loosen...or...what the hell am I talking about!? I can't even think straight right now, as the burning in my stomach is increasing.
Aaarrrrgghhh!!! I hate it!
All of it!
I've actually moved backward. I got to a point where I could go 2-3 hours between lozenges (to be clear, I mean the time between putting one in my mouth to putting the next one in my mouth; not between one being dissolved/spit out and popping in the next one). Now, although, I occasionally go 3 hours between, it's usually 2 hours or less. Sometimes I can only go an hour before dropping the next.
I hate it. And I just can't seem to apply the discipline to get back on track; to force myself to wait longer. I need another quantum leap.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Week 11
I'm just upon 11 weeks without smoking tobacco.
According to the original 12 week plan, I should be nicotine free a week from now.
Not gonna happen.
The only change in my nicotine lozenge dosage is that I switched from the 4mg to the 2mg. But I still "need" them about every 2 hours, on average. By "need," I guess I really mean "crave, and take one to satisfy that craving."
I don't think that is any significant, boastworthy progress.
So, I'm still not saving any money by not smoking. But I'm saving my lungs, so, hey!
I just need to work my way back to a point of strict discipline to take the steps that I was supposed to a few weeks ago. And at least I haven't really moved backward.
According to the original 12 week plan, I should be nicotine free a week from now.
Not gonna happen.
The only change in my nicotine lozenge dosage is that I switched from the 4mg to the 2mg. But I still "need" them about every 2 hours, on average. By "need," I guess I really mean "crave, and take one to satisfy that craving."
I don't think that is any significant, boastworthy progress.
So, I'm still not saving any money by not smoking. But I'm saving my lungs, so, hey!
I just need to work my way back to a point of strict discipline to take the steps that I was supposed to a few weeks ago. And at least I haven't really moved backward.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Out the Window
In the Daily Tabouleh, Danny shares a smoking-related thought:
Unfortunately this answer will never satisfy any non-smoker's curiosity.
Before I dig in to this, please note that I consider someone who tries smoking, smokes "socially," or smokes regularly for less than, say, a year a non-smoker, in a polar generalization.
There is one big question, and millions of questions branching and rooting from that trunk.
A non-smoker cannot understand why a smoker exists at all. There is no logical, intelligent reason for anyone to smoke cigarettes, given sufficient information about the product. If the point of smoking itself is senseless, than why bother questioning the logic of any of the user's attendant habits?
I mean, how does a smoker know he has a "cough," as in when one's gets a cold?
Well, guess what? He knows. There are many, minute, physiological changes in the body. Listening to a smoker cough, noone else would know the difference. We (were) always coughing, hacking and hocking every waking moment, as if we were sick anyway. It all sounds the same to those around us. The sick cough and the "smoker's cough" just feels different, and we internally feel and taste the difference. There is a different taste in the throat and mouth, a slightly different muscular pull, a different tickle in a different area of the throat, different phlegm content and consistancy, etc.
Now, the ash tray issue is similar in some regards.
To a non-smoker, cigarette smell is just one, foul smell. Cigarette smoke stinks, and everything exposed to it stinks.
But cigarettes have many smells, that have differing intensities and half-lives (metaphorically speaking). There is the presently burning cigarette smoke itself, billowing out of the lit tip. This will choke anyone, and burn the eyes if it blows in one's face. Then there is the smell of the cigarette smoke indirectly. You smell it, but the actual smoke is not in your face. These scents are the more immediate, pungent smells. These smells diminish in intensity over various lengths of time. You can roll your windows down and 'air out' the car, and these will diminish.
Then there is the smell of the ashes. They have a more stale, stagnant dead smell. This is the smell that stays. If an ash tray is left full, you will continue to smell this. This same smell will be embedded permanently into the upholstery. Long after one quits smoking, and driven thousands of miles with the windows down, it will remain in the upholstery and carpet in the vehicle. Just sit shotgun in my ride and smell for yourself.
I'll cut this short. We're like dogs. Humans think poop stinks. Period. Dogs perceive all kinds of information from a variety of scents it perceives in a piece of doodie in a variety of locations and states of decay.
And I have no problem comparing cigarettes to fecal matter.
I am still wondering why people throw their cigarettes from their car out the window and not place them in an ashtray. If you are stinking up your car already and you reek of smoke, why are you littering?Good question, Danny. And there is an answer.
Unfortunately this answer will never satisfy any non-smoker's curiosity.
Before I dig in to this, please note that I consider someone who tries smoking, smokes "socially," or smokes regularly for less than, say, a year a non-smoker, in a polar generalization.
There is one big question, and millions of questions branching and rooting from that trunk.
A non-smoker cannot understand why a smoker exists at all. There is no logical, intelligent reason for anyone to smoke cigarettes, given sufficient information about the product. If the point of smoking itself is senseless, than why bother questioning the logic of any of the user's attendant habits?
I mean, how does a smoker know he has a "cough," as in when one's gets a cold?
Well, guess what? He knows. There are many, minute, physiological changes in the body. Listening to a smoker cough, noone else would know the difference. We (were) always coughing, hacking and hocking every waking moment, as if we were sick anyway. It all sounds the same to those around us. The sick cough and the "smoker's cough" just feels different, and we internally feel and taste the difference. There is a different taste in the throat and mouth, a slightly different muscular pull, a different tickle in a different area of the throat, different phlegm content and consistancy, etc.
Now, the ash tray issue is similar in some regards.
To a non-smoker, cigarette smell is just one, foul smell. Cigarette smoke stinks, and everything exposed to it stinks.
But cigarettes have many smells, that have differing intensities and half-lives (metaphorically speaking). There is the presently burning cigarette smoke itself, billowing out of the lit tip. This will choke anyone, and burn the eyes if it blows in one's face. Then there is the smell of the cigarette smoke indirectly. You smell it, but the actual smoke is not in your face. These scents are the more immediate, pungent smells. These smells diminish in intensity over various lengths of time. You can roll your windows down and 'air out' the car, and these will diminish.
Then there is the smell of the ashes. They have a more stale, stagnant dead smell. This is the smell that stays. If an ash tray is left full, you will continue to smell this. This same smell will be embedded permanently into the upholstery. Long after one quits smoking, and driven thousands of miles with the windows down, it will remain in the upholstery and carpet in the vehicle. Just sit shotgun in my ride and smell for yourself.
I'll cut this short. We're like dogs. Humans think poop stinks. Period. Dogs perceive all kinds of information from a variety of scents it perceives in a piece of doodie in a variety of locations and states of decay.
And I have no problem comparing cigarettes to fecal matter.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Fellow Strugglers and General Update
I have a larger post in the works, and it's taking a bit longer to get around to/finish then I thought, so I thought I'd check in.
Usually, such long lapses in communication from recovering addicts indicates that the "recovering" status has reverted back to "indulging."
Not in my case. I am in the middle of Week 9 without even a single hit off of a cigarette.
My lozenge addiction hasn't changed much. 5 days from now, I am supposed to cut back another step further to 1 lozenge every 4-8 hours, I believe. But, alas, I am in a quagmire of 1 lozenge every 2-3 hours, on average.
The other night, I hung out with 2 fellow nicotine addicts. One highly recommended using the lozenges to the other as an aid to quitting. He said it was a major help to him. But apparently, not enough. He said he was doing great for a few months, but stated he was back now, lighting up one of those flavorless cigarettes that makes you suck the hell out of it to feel any rush.
The other friend was excited to report that, after constant, thwarted attempts to quit, he has gone 4 days without cigarettes, cold turkey. Hooray! He recounted his morning struggles of flailing his arms and head about, in a mad scramble for the missing vice, fighting to make it through the diabolical first morning craving.
The problem is, he is also a recovering alcoholic with over a year of sobriety. He has had several near death experiences as a result of his drinking, and all his peers have been very proud of his daily triumph.
Coinciding with his abstenance from nicotine, was a tumbling from the wagon, and back into a routine of feebly concealed alcohol consumption.
Usually, such long lapses in communication from recovering addicts indicates that the "recovering" status has reverted back to "indulging."
Not in my case. I am in the middle of Week 9 without even a single hit off of a cigarette.
My lozenge addiction hasn't changed much. 5 days from now, I am supposed to cut back another step further to 1 lozenge every 4-8 hours, I believe. But, alas, I am in a quagmire of 1 lozenge every 2-3 hours, on average.
The other night, I hung out with 2 fellow nicotine addicts. One highly recommended using the lozenges to the other as an aid to quitting. He said it was a major help to him. But apparently, not enough. He said he was doing great for a few months, but stated he was back now, lighting up one of those flavorless cigarettes that makes you suck the hell out of it to feel any rush.
The other friend was excited to report that, after constant, thwarted attempts to quit, he has gone 4 days without cigarettes, cold turkey. Hooray! He recounted his morning struggles of flailing his arms and head about, in a mad scramble for the missing vice, fighting to make it through the diabolical first morning craving.
The problem is, he is also a recovering alcoholic with over a year of sobriety. He has had several near death experiences as a result of his drinking, and all his peers have been very proud of his daily triumph.
Coinciding with his abstenance from nicotine, was a tumbling from the wagon, and back into a routine of feebly concealed alcohol consumption.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Week 7: C+
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+
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 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, February 25, 2009
I'm f**king PISSED!
Man, I cannot imagine what it would be like without nicotine replacement products.
Like all smokers, I've experienced irritability when going on a stretch without a smoke. But it seems to be getting worse.
Here in week 2 of cig' abstinence, I'm finding myself stricken suddenly with pangs of anger. Out of nowhere, I will snap into an extremely irritable state. I will ruthlessly curse some absent scapegoat; invoking unforgivable, descriptive names for whoever has virtually stepped in my path.
For example, at work I may receive an email from someone. The message may contain an attachment that I am expected to do something with. If there is something wrong with the attachment, or I experience the slightest detail, I haul off in a rage of epithets. "You....f**king...A**hole! God damn your heart and soul to Hell, you f**king piece of sh*t!!!!" But it gets worse, or better depending how you look at it; much more harsh criticism / more creative insults.
Luckily, I suppress the urge to hit the reply button and start typing! I settle for muttering these things to myself, like Popeye the Sailor. But occasionally, my volume rises, and body gestures grow convulsed and more indicative of a volatile state.
I do sometimes wonder how far and clear my voice carries when I am in the throes of such spells of irritability; if any of the words hissing through my teeth were discernible by a coworker - especially a female - I could be fingered for "creating a hostile work environment."
Obviously, if I wasn't able to catch myself from actually directing my words at a present human being, I would lose my job on the spot. I really have to be careful.
So, for those people I hear about that quit "cold turkey," I salute you. Because for myself, being caught without some form of nicotine replacement at this point could land me in jail for assault, or the hospital for an assault that I provoked (via my own verbal assault) upon myself!
Like all smokers, I've experienced irritability when going on a stretch without a smoke. But it seems to be getting worse.
Here in week 2 of cig' abstinence, I'm finding myself stricken suddenly with pangs of anger. Out of nowhere, I will snap into an extremely irritable state. I will ruthlessly curse some absent scapegoat; invoking unforgivable, descriptive names for whoever has virtually stepped in my path.
For example, at work I may receive an email from someone. The message may contain an attachment that I am expected to do something with. If there is something wrong with the attachment, or I experience the slightest detail, I haul off in a rage of epithets. "You....f**king...A**hole! God damn your heart and soul to Hell, you f**king piece of sh*t!!!!" But it gets worse, or better depending how you look at it; much more harsh criticism / more creative insults.
Luckily, I suppress the urge to hit the reply button and start typing! I settle for muttering these things to myself, like Popeye the Sailor. But occasionally, my volume rises, and body gestures grow convulsed and more indicative of a volatile state.
I do sometimes wonder how far and clear my voice carries when I am in the throes of such spells of irritability; if any of the words hissing through my teeth were discernible by a coworker - especially a female - I could be fingered for "creating a hostile work environment."
Obviously, if I wasn't able to catch myself from actually directing my words at a present human being, I would lose my job on the spot. I really have to be careful.
So, for those people I hear about that quit "cold turkey," I salute you. Because for myself, being caught without some form of nicotine replacement at this point could land me in jail for assault, or the hospital for an assault that I provoked (via my own verbal assault) upon myself!
Monday, February 23, 2009
The Impulse points just keep comin' (movies & relatives)
I'm one day shy of 2 weeks without smoking. But The Impulse points keep coming. I'm still walking into scenarios in which my body is accustomed to lighting up, and it sucker punches me, still, each time.
I went to the movies for the first time since quitting, and I would always have to suck down a cig before entering and getting my ticket ripped. (It just occurred to me what a bummer it must be for whoever is stuck sitting next to my smoke-stinkey ass in the theatre!). After 2 hours, give or take, it was always so good to spark one up immediately after emerging from the theatre.
Man, I can taste/smell/feel it now!
There is this bogus feeling of having earned it by having sat so patiently for an entire movie stifling the urge to smoke; almost as if one were the hero of the movie, and deserves the reward afterward.
Also for the first time since quiting, I went to a modest family gathering. There, the norm was for a brother and I to regularly step out to the back porch for one-on-one conversation over a smoke (which he would refer to as a union meeting).
Now in both of these situations, I was not tempted to smoke by seeing and smelling others doing so; People milling about outside the theatre, puffing away, or my brother doing so next to me.
No, it was The Impulse; the physiological/psychological association of my body chemistry with those times, those sequences of events. It was an ingrained, programmed routine, in which smoking was an intregal part of -- even if these events came along every 3 months or so, rather than on a daily basis.
Another note on the cinema experience: Once a movie starts, I never get up to leave to do anything, if I can possibly help it. Not to pee, not to smoke, not to get a snack or drink. Although I did miss a climactic scene of the last Indiana Jones movie, because I had to piss so bad, it was physically painful to keep holding it. I really didn't want to leave the theatre, but it was a genuine emergency. And the movie kinda sucked anyway, so I didn't feel bad about missing the scene for more than a few minutes afterwards.
Anyway, since this was the first time going to the movies since I quit, or rather, the first time I went since I started my new habit of using nicotine lozenges, I did not prepare. It should have been easy, but I just didn't take it seriously enough.
All I needed to do was bring in some kind of cup to spit the nicotine teeming saliva accumulation into. This is a regular part of the process of ingesting the lozenges, so I knew a cup would come in handy.
But, ya know, it just seemed like a hassle. Where would I get a cup? I had a soda from a nearby restaurant, but they prohibited me from taking it into the theatre. So, then I could go ask for one at the consession stand. But then, I'd have to wait in line, which are usually long, only to have to explain that I only need an empty cup. This would spark the suspicion that I would be trying to obtain an empty cup for free, only to return for a "refill" to get a free soda. I don't want to pay for the damn cup. I imagine that the coorporate accounting department figures an amount to charge for an empty cup based on the frequency of soda sold, compared to soda inventory, etc. blah blah blah. I just didn't want to deal with it.
And, I certainly am not going to pick one out of the trash. It really wouldn't matter, because I would be spitting into the cup, rather than drinking out of it. But then, my lips often do touch whatever cup I take on as a disposable spitoon. And besides, why gross out my female companion more than I already do by this basic process?
So...I said "f**k it," and enjoyed the movie, and held out on popping in a lozenge as long as I felt comfortable doing so. Of course, I gave in about 3/4-the-way-through. I inserted one in my mouth, and stifled the urge to swallow as my mouth began teeming with the familiar foamy, saliva/nicotine juice.
Of course, the movie went on longer than I anticipated. A few times when I thought the credits would roll, a forgotten enemy would suprise attack, or another sub-epilogue would begin. My mouth was filling up to the point where my cheeks would be visibly puffed out, were the house lights to kick on.
The only alternative to holding it in was to eject the voluminous gob from my mouth onto the floor of the theatre. The theatre was scantily occupied, and the entire rest of the row to my left, including the row fore and aft, were unoccupied, so I could certainly get away with it unnoticed. But my conscience prevented me.
I figured on the way out I could spit it out in a trash can, but then, I didn't want anyone to see me, like my fellow exiting moviegoers, or the cleanup guy standing right next to the trash can. I would just feel like an a**hole. So, I figured it could wait until I got to the bathroom.
My wife made a joking speculation about the title of a possible sequel to the movie, and I instantly formed a title of my own in an attempted one-up reponse. But, if I opened my mouth to speak it, I would have gone Cujo and made an embarrassing, disgusting mess all over the front of my clothes, chin to toe.
So my little joke had to wait, as I gestured to her with a raised finger and inflated cheeks, that I must hold my tongue.
After the walk from the aisle, to the hall, to the big hall, to the bathroom, peeing, relinquishing my foamy burden, and rejoining her in the hall, the potency of my joke diminished significantly.
I told her my joke sequel title, but after the wait, both of us silently agreed that I had not one-upped hers.
---
On a serious note:
Luckily, my wife tolerates the unsavory, attendant idiosyncrasies of nicotine lozenge use. To do so, one must keep in mind that it is for the greater, long term good.
Watching one's betrothed spitting mouthfuls of foam on a regular basis for a couple/few months becomes quite tolerable compared to the concept of becoming a lung cancer widow in one's, say, 50's.
I went to the movies for the first time since quitting, and I would always have to suck down a cig before entering and getting my ticket ripped. (It just occurred to me what a bummer it must be for whoever is stuck sitting next to my smoke-stinkey ass in the theatre!). After 2 hours, give or take, it was always so good to spark one up immediately after emerging from the theatre.
Man, I can taste/smell/feel it now!
There is this bogus feeling of having earned it by having sat so patiently for an entire movie stifling the urge to smoke; almost as if one were the hero of the movie, and deserves the reward afterward.
Also for the first time since quiting, I went to a modest family gathering. There, the norm was for a brother and I to regularly step out to the back porch for one-on-one conversation over a smoke (which he would refer to as a union meeting).
Now in both of these situations, I was not tempted to smoke by seeing and smelling others doing so; People milling about outside the theatre, puffing away, or my brother doing so next to me.
No, it was The Impulse; the physiological/psychological association of my body chemistry with those times, those sequences of events. It was an ingrained, programmed routine, in which smoking was an intregal part of -- even if these events came along every 3 months or so, rather than on a daily basis.
Another note on the cinema experience: Once a movie starts, I never get up to leave to do anything, if I can possibly help it. Not to pee, not to smoke, not to get a snack or drink. Although I did miss a climactic scene of the last Indiana Jones movie, because I had to piss so bad, it was physically painful to keep holding it. I really didn't want to leave the theatre, but it was a genuine emergency. And the movie kinda sucked anyway, so I didn't feel bad about missing the scene for more than a few minutes afterwards.
Anyway, since this was the first time going to the movies since I quit, or rather, the first time I went since I started my new habit of using nicotine lozenges, I did not prepare. It should have been easy, but I just didn't take it seriously enough.
All I needed to do was bring in some kind of cup to spit the nicotine teeming saliva accumulation into. This is a regular part of the process of ingesting the lozenges, so I knew a cup would come in handy.
But, ya know, it just seemed like a hassle. Where would I get a cup? I had a soda from a nearby restaurant, but they prohibited me from taking it into the theatre. So, then I could go ask for one at the consession stand. But then, I'd have to wait in line, which are usually long, only to have to explain that I only need an empty cup. This would spark the suspicion that I would be trying to obtain an empty cup for free, only to return for a "refill" to get a free soda. I don't want to pay for the damn cup. I imagine that the coorporate accounting department figures an amount to charge for an empty cup based on the frequency of soda sold, compared to soda inventory, etc. blah blah blah. I just didn't want to deal with it.
And, I certainly am not going to pick one out of the trash. It really wouldn't matter, because I would be spitting into the cup, rather than drinking out of it. But then, my lips often do touch whatever cup I take on as a disposable spitoon. And besides, why gross out my female companion more than I already do by this basic process?
So...I said "f**k it," and enjoyed the movie, and held out on popping in a lozenge as long as I felt comfortable doing so. Of course, I gave in about 3/4-the-way-through. I inserted one in my mouth, and stifled the urge to swallow as my mouth began teeming with the familiar foamy, saliva/nicotine juice.
Of course, the movie went on longer than I anticipated. A few times when I thought the credits would roll, a forgotten enemy would suprise attack, or another sub-epilogue would begin. My mouth was filling up to the point where my cheeks would be visibly puffed out, were the house lights to kick on.
The only alternative to holding it in was to eject the voluminous gob from my mouth onto the floor of the theatre. The theatre was scantily occupied, and the entire rest of the row to my left, including the row fore and aft, were unoccupied, so I could certainly get away with it unnoticed. But my conscience prevented me.
I figured on the way out I could spit it out in a trash can, but then, I didn't want anyone to see me, like my fellow exiting moviegoers, or the cleanup guy standing right next to the trash can. I would just feel like an a**hole. So, I figured it could wait until I got to the bathroom.
My wife made a joking speculation about the title of a possible sequel to the movie, and I instantly formed a title of my own in an attempted one-up reponse. But, if I opened my mouth to speak it, I would have gone Cujo and made an embarrassing, disgusting mess all over the front of my clothes, chin to toe.
So my little joke had to wait, as I gestured to her with a raised finger and inflated cheeks, that I must hold my tongue.
After the walk from the aisle, to the hall, to the big hall, to the bathroom, peeing, relinquishing my foamy burden, and rejoining her in the hall, the potency of my joke diminished significantly.
I told her my joke sequel title, but after the wait, both of us silently agreed that I had not one-upped hers.
---
On a serious note:
Luckily, my wife tolerates the unsavory, attendant idiosyncrasies of nicotine lozenge use. To do so, one must keep in mind that it is for the greater, long term good.
Watching one's betrothed spitting mouthfuls of foam on a regular basis for a couple/few months becomes quite tolerable compared to the concept of becoming a lung cancer widow in one's, say, 50's.
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