Saturday, April 3, 2010

1, 2, 3

I've smoked since I was 15. It's not something I've even been proud of and every time someone asked me how long I've smoked it always made me cringe to tell them. Over the years I tried to quit probably hundreds of times, to no avail. The year I turned 30 I quit on January 1 and didn't smoke for just shy of 6 months, until the day AFTER my 30th when we held a little celebration at our house and in my inhebriated state I picked one up and started again.  Since that day I often wonder why I can't quit like I did for that long period of time. I'm sure I listed many rambling excuses to my friends and family trying to make myself feel better while at the same time not looking like a pathetic wimp in front of them. Many people, including my doctor suggested I try the Chantix route. For months I put it off, not wanting to smoke and afraid of the side effects I'd heard taking the drug could cause. I had visions of going postal on someone when they asked me a simple question at work. In my mind, it was less risky to smoke than to turn into a maniac while trying to quit using Chantix.

Two weeks ago, Adam came home from the doctor (we have the same one) with a prescription for Chantix. It was at that moment that I knew that I needed to take it and make the attempt to quit. Our chances at success were much higher with both of us taking it and supporting each other. So, two days later I had my own appointment with the good doctor and had him give me a prescription for it. A and I started taking it together and set our quit day for 10 days later as recommended. I will admit that I was nervous from the moment I put the first pill in my mouth that in a couple of hours I'd turn into a raging asshole and while I didn't experience anything unusual on day one the second day turned out quite the opposite.

I'll leave you here for now wondering what exactly that tiny little white pill did. The rest of this story will follow soon.

1 comment: