It was so subtle. Moving fast but riding low, like a sidewinder rattlesnake skirting a sand dune. It was just a story and a short story at that, but its climax carried enough force that it hit me like a 2x4 up along side of my head.
Someone had found out, the hard way, that they had smoked one too many cigarettes. I knew this someone. The story ended with two words; oxygen tank.
And that's all it took. Two words. Oxygen. Tank.
I've been talking, thinking and writing about quitting smoking for months. It was one of my resolutions for the new year. There hasn't been a day since the first of the year that I haven't thought about it every time I put a cigarette to my lips and lit it up.
It was Saturday night that I heard those two words. Oxygen. Tank. I was going to a party and all through the evening, every time I smoked, I could hear the clang of oxygen tanks somewhere in the background. Sunday morning, I was done. Today is Wednesday and I have been able to go for over three days without a cigarette. Don't start the high five's just yet.
If you have never been addicted to anything, you won't understand. It will make absolutely no sense whatsoever to you, no matter how I explain it. You may have sympathy but you'll have no empathy. Only an addict, someone who has walked the path of most resistance, can have empathy. Not only is the path lined with pot holes and temptations, it's no wider than a tightrope.
First and foremost, I didn't want to quit. I like to smoke. Yes, you can list all the nasty negatives that go with smoking, I know and have heard them all, but I like to smoke. That fact alone is why I needed to quit, I would rather sit and smoke than do much of anything else. I also knew that when I was completely out of breath when I packed a laundry basket full of clothes up two flights of stairs, that I needed to quit.
Please don't raise your hand to mention the cost of smoking. Addicts care nothing about the cost, only the end result. Only the satisfaction that comes from sucking nicotine laden smoke fully into each lung. Makes absolutely no sense,......right?
I have no intentions of ever smoking again and hopefully I won't. One reason is because it's too hard to quit. Right now, as I sit and blog about my addiction, it is 5:22 a.m. I've been up since 4. The sweat is literally pouring off of me as my system tries to wring itself of its loss.
I went to bed last night with my hair wet. I walked past a mirror a while ago and my hair is standing right straight up. I look much like the Mad Hatter......make that a sweaty Mad Hatter......possibly a sweaty Mad Hatter with a nasty attitude.
So don't congratulate me just yet. Let me battle this dragon on my own. I may be smiling sweetly, when you see me, all the while holding a freshly honed hatchet behind my back, just in case I feel the need to plant it somewhere. So, take heed, you've been forewarned.
As I remind myself again.......Oxygen. Tank.
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