Musical Mob - Russian Roulette
TOBACCO: THE RUSSIAN ROULETTE OF HABITS QUITTING SMOKING AFTER 45 YEARS IS TOUGH, BUT IT'S WORTH THE AGONY - Orlando Sentinel TOBACCO: THE RUSSIAN ROULETTE OF HABITS QUITTING SMOKING AFTER 45 YEARS IS TOUGH, BUT IT'S WORTH THE AGONY There's nothing more boring than people who have quit smoking.
Their eyes glint, their noses twitch, and at the drop of an ash they go into their Carrie Nation act.
You can believe me, because I gave up smoking 1,000 days ago, and while I'm dying to tell what it's like to undergo such a significant experience, I realize there's no point in trying to make you quit too.
So I won't and that's a promise.
Addiction may be just a word to you, but in the past 1,000 days I've learned about its finer shades of meaning.
Like having to leave the breakfast table right after my first swallow of coffee to run around the house a couple of times, inhaling plain old colorless air in lieu of the lovely carotid- grabbing gray smoke of my Winston.
Coffee equals cigarette, and in my case had done so for 45 years.
For 45 years I haven't written a letter or even a shopping list -- not to mention a newspaper article -- without my old friend the cigarette smoldering in the ashtray close by.
Can't think of what to say next?
Like the genie out of the bottle, what to say next comes to mind.
Alma has been part of the cigarette scene about as long as I have.
I know just what she means.
About 20 of us make up this first-of-a-series class, sponsored by the American Cancer Society's Orlando unit.
We range in age from John, 18, to Eustice, who admits to remembering the Great War.
Some of us have buddies.
John has joined up with his mother.
He wants to kick the habit before it ruins his sports career; she's fed up with being hooked and with that tobacco- related dirt in the house.
Eustice has made numerous efforts in the past to quit.
Jim and I are the only married couple here, and you can bet Jim wouldn't be here if at game roulette russian online doctor hadn't said he would just as soon not have him for a patient if he didn't quit smoking.
You can also bet I wouldn't be here if I figured there was any way under heaven or earth Jim could quit while I kept on puffing.
Ray Grott is Southern, down-home in his 70s.
Ray is our class leader; he quit smoking 30 years ago and there's nowhere he'll be leading us now that he hasn't already been.
He does these classes as a labor of love, and we can sense under his laid-back exterior an iron determination to eradicate the Evil Weed.
For the next six weeks our class would meet once a week.
The next-to-last class would be the day we quit, Q-Day, and there would be one more meeting after that.
Until then, we would be talking about why we want to quit and the troubles we were having changing our smoking patterns in preparation to quitting.
Jim, for example, was a pipe smoker who used to inhale his pipe https://sellingonthenet.info/roulette/russian-roulette-mv-dance-practice.html to his toenails.
He decided to shift to cigarettes, which he claimed tasted awful -- but not awful enough to keep him from puffing on 30 or more a day.
I shifted to another brand, which claimed to have 1 milligram of nothing, and was also smoking more and enjoying it less.
I think this is what they call behavior modification.
We got the message that we had better start modifying before Q-day roulette cheese spread we wanted to succeed.
Ex-smokers spoke at some of the classes.
Our first was a little slip of a blonde who has a baby, a smoking husband and a job https://sellingonthenet.info/roulette/roulette-millionaires.html a factory.
She admitted quitting was hard, but, she said, "I looked at that little dumb white tube and I said, 'I'm bigger than you are, you thing, and I'm not going to let you rule my life.
As Q-Day crept up on us, like the condemned man reliving his life, I found myself reviewing my smoking history at odd moments.
Those first unfiltered cigarettes when I was 15, and Mother dear, unwise Mother handing us a license by saying, "I would rather have you children smoke here at home than behind our backs.
Today, three of the four don't smoke.
I seriously tried to quit on two occasions.
The first time was about 25 year ago; the second about 20 years ago.
Both times I lasted two weeks.
And both times the end of the second week was worse than the beginning of the first, and I said, "Oh, the heck with it.
I'll just smoke a few a day, say five.
But back to now.
Q-Day came and went.
We didn't stay up until midnight to greet it, frantically puffing our last; we just went to bed and didn't say anything about tomorrow.
I pitched out all the cigarettes and pipe stuff; emptied all the ashtrays and washed them and put them on the top cupboard shelf.
I filled our prettiest ashtry with lemon drops and filled a small plate with cloves.
Of all the crutches or physical aids to quitting smoking that were mentioned in our classes -- chewing gum, sucking on straws and hard candy, jogging and tearing one's hair rather, grabbing handfuls of hair and pulling gently to release scalp tension -- chewing on a clove was most distracting.
The russian roulette weed piece is puckery and it gives your mouth something to do.
Our ultimate crutch back then was napping, which, as new retirees, we were able to do almost whenever we felt like it.
Prospect of not smoking too awful to contemplate?
Crawl into bed and pull the blankets over your just click for source />Then there is booze.
Alcohol anesthetizes, and the prospect of a glass of sherry or a beer at lunchtime or a couple of stiff hoots at dinner can be both a reward and another way of punctuating your day.
About 20 years ago Consumers Union published a book on addictive drugs.
I remember reading it and discovering that the tobacco addiction was stronger than alcohol or cocaine.
So I tell myself as I uncork and tip the bottle, be proud that you've conquered the bigger dragon.
To a non-smoker, equating quitting smoking with bereavement may sound ridiculous but, believe me, it's not.
A sense of bereavement is what I remember best from my two earlier attempts to quit.
And Jim says he felt it unbearably that New Year's Eve many years ago, when he heaved all his pipes into the fireplace at midnight in a grand, cold turkey gesture -- a gesture that lasted exactly 16 hours.
So how are we coping this time?
Far better, because we were prepared for it.
The pain of quitting, of course, mostly is not physical, it's psychological.
True, any hard-core smoker is going to have some physiological withdrawal symptoms.
We were warned about things such as sore gums, irregular bowel movements and increased coughing up of phlegm, but Jim and I were bothered mostly by irritability and disorientation, and these really are psychological see more than physical.
The anti-smoking pundits say that quitting involves pain on three fronts: physiological, physical and psychological.
For a cigarette smoker, the second can include the act of lighting up, especially if you're a woman at a gathering where men of the gentlemanly persuasion russian roulette weed piece their lighters at the ready.
But the real toughie is psychological russian roulette weed piece />For me, 45 years of smoking has constituted both a reward and a punctuation mark.
Since Q-Day there haven't been any punctuation marks in my life and everything just runs along, one thing into another so fast I find myself at a loss as to what to do next.
So how has it all added up for us now after 1,000 smokeless days?
Let's list negative things first.
The urge to smoke is very strong every once in a while, and I wonder how long it will take to die.
Some ex-smokers say russian roulette weed piece />Fighting it in the beginning was tiring and the strain made us waspish.
But time has eased the pain.
No, food doesn't taste any better; it always tasted pretty good and still does.
There is a temptation to OD on some foods.
In Jim's case it's ice cream; in mine it's exotic vegetable dishes such as pesto.
Which leads to the fact that I've gained about 10 permanent pounds.
But some of my weight has ended up front, which can be counted as a plus.
And the good things?
Well, everyone is so pleased with us, especially our children.
Kate, a two-cigarettes-a-month smoker, keeps asking me if I've cheated, then says how proud of us she is when told "no.
And Molly, with a race of envy, says she can hardly believe we did it.
Molly's our only remaining smoker.
As for me, not being cooped up with a pipe in a closed automobile or in a small sailboat cabin is pretty nice.
For Jim, there's no more cigarette smoke drifting his way while he's trying to go to sleep and I'm still reading.
And there has been a slight increase in what used to be called togetherness.
We're sharing more of the remarks and looks that mean I'm suffering and I know you are too.
In sum, though, the rewards of quitting are not that obvious.
When I hear about the neighbor who quit smoking 10 years ago and died of lung cancer last year, I wonder.
Can our lungs rejuvenate themselves in time?
I'm not sure even the doctors know.
So why did we quit?
To save our own lives?
If that were the reason, we would have quit long ago or, more probably, would have never started.
Or is it because, now that we've reached retirement, the daily challenges are few and far between.
Because, as for the dedicated climber, the mountain was there?
And once the ascent was begun, pride became the prod?
I think that's partly it.
Finally, there's the more info that we're doing what's arguably right -- and how can you argue with that?
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