63 Days of Living

Weird title, I know. But I can't begin to tell you what it means to me. I'm 31 years old. When I was 16, riding around cruising the streets of the city, I thought it would be cool to be 'like' my friend -- light up a cigarette and be cool. Like a fool, I had disregarded the fact that I had chronic bronchitis from a young age and asthma that had almost disappeared by the time I was 15 -- and I STILL picked up smoking. Hindsight truly is 20/20.

For the last 16 years, I was bound by the addictive qualities of tobacco. I would not have ever considered myself addicted because I always thought, "I can quit whenever I want... I just don't want to quit right now." Boy was I wrong. I tried quitting when  I was 18 -- made it a couple weeks. Little did I know that would be the longest I would ever make it... Until now. Over the course of the years, I had smoked more than  54,204 cigarettes. (9 X 365 X 16.5) <-- for the Math fans out there!

I smoked through 4 pregnancies, risking my babies for that rush of satisfaction from a nice, sweet pull from a cancerous stick of temporary pleasure. Risking my ability to breathe, my ability to taste, to smell. Risking 7 minutes of my life for every cigarette I smoked -- and in my defense: I only smoked 9 cigarettes a day. Technically less than a half a pack a day. I knew smokers who hit the 3pack/day mark. I wasn't addicted. I was a casual smoker. I didn't smoke in the house. I never smoked in the house. I always went outside. But that didn't mean anything to my lungs. Like I was somehow lessening the fact that smoke was dangerous if I was mixing it with fresh air as opposed to 'recirculated indoor air'. I would never light a cigarette and put it down to do something else. I would finish my cigarette and then go back to what I was doing. Sometimes, I would push myself... If I was in the middle of a project, I would encourage myself to finish the project and then enjoy the smoke... But I was really finishing 'myself' -- that smoke was the polish to my casket.

Until one day in May of 2011. I had awoke that morning feeling sluggish. You know that feverish-body aching-god help me through the day mornings where you didn't want to do anything but stay in bed because even your skin hurt. I could handle all that. What I could not handle was not being able to breathe. I could not talk or catch my breath. I could not stop coughing, literally. Every breath in was followed by a hacking session, and every breath out, the same. Around noon, I thought I felt better and so like any smoker who is addicted, I ventured outside to get a drag. Bad idea. Coughing subsided, but the headache was horrible. Back inside, I felt chilled again, so I went back to bed. By midnight I was even more miserable. I had a temperature of 102. To many, that is barely a fever. But a person with low body temperature that is 'normally' 94, 102 is like 106 for others. And the coughing had returned with a vengeance.

Having four children and fearing I had contracted pneumonia or something worse (I was working in a childcare based medical facility), I drove myself to the local emergency room. Managing to make it through the initial triage, I am told my pulse/oxygen is 93. Well, that can't be good!?! Waiting to get called back to the treatment room, I start thinking about how people inflict pain on the people they care about. My brief thoughts of self-induced narcissism develop and disappear before I can process my next thought. "What if I die?"

That is not something I like to think about because depressing thoughts are the death of life, not being buried 6 feet under. When you are depressed, you are truly cheating yourself. Being buried is what happens after you've lived. Being the optimistic that I am, I start thinking about good things, only to be brought back to that previous thought, "What if I die?"... Who would help my husband take care of my babies? Who would take care of my husband? How would someone explain to my children how much I love them? Who would help my 85 year old grandmother when she needed someone to call the cable/phone company because she misplaced her payment to them? Who would pay for my burial? How would anyone delete all my stuff online? Would I go to heaven? Some thoughts were a little superficial and dramatic, but my thoughts, nevertheless.

Going through the medical examination, I kept letting those thoughts creep back up. And then, like any Scorpio with a thirst for success, I decided then and there, I would not let those thoughts have a reason to creep up ever again. After a painful breathing shot in the subcutaneous tissue of my stomach and two breathing treatments and 6 damn prescription medications, I drive myself home, with one thought on my mind: Am I ever going to taste a cigarette again? After all that, I still thought about a cigarette. But I was still determined to beat this addiction.

Arriving home just in time to see my children get on the school bus, I explain to my husband what the doctor said and tell him (he's a smoker/dipper) that I've decided to get help. I tell him I am going to stop smoking and I need his support. He said OK. Now, keep in mind, we've both tried quitting before and we both know how I am when I have cravings for a cigarette! BITCH DEVIL INCARNATE! So we both knew this was going to be hard. But it was nothing like I anticipated.

Getting online, I found the quit smoking website and phone number for my state. (You can find it as well, just google "quit smoking in _________ ").  I took a deep breath (immediately followed by a 2 minute coughing session, which reassured me I was doing the right thing) and made the call. I was greeted by a friendly voice who helped me register, offered me medication to help curb the cravings and was told I could call ANYTIME I needed to for support. The entire process took about 20 minutes. I had a quit date set, a quit coach hot line and a website for additional information. I followed the instructions, which were basically, track my smoking habits for 1 week. Keep a journal/record of when I smoke more, where I'm at, what I'm doing, etc. when I smoke a cigarette. Simple enough. And was I surprised.

After meals was the strongest cravings. Agitated/angry moods were the fastest smokes with the most 'chain smoking' sessions. Stressful situations were the slowest smokes with the most times smoking (and my job was VERY stressful, so I smoked a lot when I was off work). After sex, driving, talking on the phone all had me with a cigarette in my hand. One week later, my patches, quit guide and ally guide arrived in the mail. And the following day, my brother overdosed -- Talk about stress! Luckily, I had not reached my quit date so I was OK. But my lungs were still very tender from coughing. I used my inhaler nearly 6 times a day. And I was still smoking. I still couldn't taste anything because of the severity of the sinus infection that came with the Chronic Bronchitis and bronchiospams the doctor had diagnosed me with. Still, I was determined that June 10th would be my quit date, come hell or high water... And I was hoping I could do it.

My husband read the ally guide and came to me with three questions.
1.) Are you sure you WANT to quit?
2.) What should I do if you ask me for a cigarette?
3.) What can I do to show you I support you?

Now, being a bookworm, I did not really take into account the ally book. I think it's great they sent it, but I didn't read it -- I'm my worst enemy, I do not find ME to be an ally to myself. I did read and use the Quit Now book. It helped me to better understand triggers and learn coping strategies.

June 10th arrives and I think, I can't quit. I can't do it. I don't know if I am strong enough. But that night, at 11:30pm, I went outside, still unable to taste a damn thing, and smoked what would be my last cigarette. And said goodbye to a 'friend', an 'acquaintance', a 'shoulder' and an 'chain'.

June 11th, I put on my new best friend. My 21 mg. Nicotine patch... and for the next 8 weeks, I would slowly lower the Mg's to 7, finishing on August 5th and being completely Nicotine free. The first day without a patch was scary. I kept seeing myself freaking out like I did when I had quit smoking before, not having the nicotine to keep me afloat. The second day was much much harder. I had managed to temporarily alienate my entire family, warning them that nicotine deprivation was something akin to PMS only worse -- they ran for cover! The third day was completely easy. No anger, no stress, no creepy thoughts. I swear it was like I had a patch on again... and every day since then has been the same way. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a little more on edge in that agitating sounds really push my buttons a lot easier. I have a lower tolerance for bullshit or drama. And I deal with those issues a different way.

You've all heard the song, "Pray for you" by Jaron and the Long Road to Love.  I laugh every time I hear that song because it is completely WRONG for any time of prayers... but it makes me laugh all the same. When I'm pissed, I come to my bedroom, close the door and turn that song up just as loud as I can get my computer to play it. The speakers whine from pain, but I sing it just as loud as I can... and by the time the song is over, I feel better. I suppose, masochistically, I'm singing those lyrics to Nicotine.

When all else fails, depend on Psychology. I'm a college student minoring in Psych. and cognitive behavioral therapy, while sounding completely dull and boring really helped me. The basis of this theory of learning is that we think a behavior. Well, I would 'think' about cigarettes in my 8 weeks of quitting smoking. Not for long, but it bothered me that I would think about them. I would dream about them, too. And that really can dampen your 'successful spirits'. So, like any person wanting to change that thought process, I bought a rubber band. Large enough to fit my wrist, but small enough that it wouldn't fall off. Every time I thought about a cigarette, whether it was smoking it, smelling it, seeing it in my mind, or seeing someone else smoking, I would snap the rubber band.

thought + snap + pain = training the brain to recognize those images and thoughts as painful. The product: a reconstructed thought process that eliminates smoking thoughts as frequently.

It was not easy, but it wasn't hard. I still occasionally think about those damn things, but it's a hate thought, not a reminiscing thought. I can't stand the smell of a cigarette. I can't stand the look of a cigarette. I can't stand THEM!

And it's been 63 days of living for me... I've saved $75.00 and I've added 58.8 hours back to my life.
And you can do this, too! I can taste food. I can jog a half mile (30 second intervals/walking) and I can smell how wonderful and clean my house is after I clean it! Petty for some, BIG MILESTONE FOR ME! You can reach this milestone, too!

Feel free to contact me at lavonda_evans@hotmail.com if you need a friend to help you... Just put "friendly ally" in the subject bar.

It feels great to be able to say I'm a non-smoker. It feels great to have my independence back. It feels great (though the scales disagree) to enjoy food again. I've put on a couple pounds... and that I can deal with!

Until Tomorrow,
LaVonda