Swine Flu and Quitter’s Flu
October 13th, 2009I was very sick last week, perhaps with that famous flu, so I wasn’t smoking cigarettes. I decided it would be a good time to quit. So I quit. My last (sweet, beautiful, delicious) cigarette: Saturday, Oct. 3.
The flu went away but congestion stayed. My chest felt shitty. Bowels: irregular. I was (and am!) cranky. Turns out, I’ve had quitter’s flu.
I would very much like to smoke right now but I didn’t even bring a pack with me to work. I’m drinking more and more coffee to curb the urge. Some people eat more and then get fat when they quit but I wouldn’t want to damage my blue ribbon-winning figure (Men’s Health shoot next week!) so the coffee will have to do the trick. I may chew on stirrers. People do that, no?
Quitter’s literature I’ve read online says that every time you want to smoke you should do something else. Anything to get your mind off your sweet, beautiful, delicious old friends. Things like: Go for a walk. Drink a glass of water. Read a poem. Pray. I think I’m going to drink a cup of black coffee and write 200 + or - words of drivel and hope for the best. So the blog will get even shittier and I’ll develop a few ulcers in the process.
It’s been cold turkey so far, no patch, no gum, no electric rod inserted under my tongue or in my rectum, no acupuncture. And no wizards! So I feel a very uncomfortable sensation. All the time. All over, under my clothes, in my hair. I feel anxious, like I’m late for something or a very important event is about to happen and I’ll miss it. For two years, Monday through Friday, I’ve had a very strict morning routine that involved a cup of coffee and a cigarette before lunch and this quitting thing has destroyed it and made me blue (and it’s only been one day) but the good news is, if I make it to November 1 without smoking a full cigarette I’ll estimate the money I’ve saved and buy something ridiculous. Like stupid art. Or an old gun.
It’s going to be a cranky October, folks. Hold on to your butts.
