"We are all of us living in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." ~Oscar Wilde
"Adventure is worthwhile in itself." ~Amelia Earhart

September 22, 2007

I can't freaking believe it.

I can't believe it. After 21 years of smoking three packs a day, I think I finally quit smoking. Of course, that sentence is a little misleading. I didn't smoke three packs a day when I started at 13 years old but, for the past several years, it's been about that amount.

Since 9pm on September 20, I've had two cigarettes. Advocates of going cold turkey will admonish me for those two cigarettes but, realistically, that one cigarette per day really does take the edge off when dealing with the physical addiction. On the other hand, they do have a point since I'm just prolonging the nicotine withdrawal but this has still been my most successful attempt at quitting. My previous attempts at quitting have never lasted more than a few hours.

What finally prompted me to quit smoking was the chronic bronchitis. Normally, the ever-present cough doesn't really bother me but, whenever I get a cold with a cough, I don't cough like normal people. It's a deep cough that has me doubled over on the floor coughing for 15 minutes straight gasping for air and occasionally vomiting from a gag reflex. Attractive, huh? It feels like crap too. Anyway, during one of these coughing sessions, I felt something loosen off one part of my lung, fly across, and hit the other part of my lung. In a brief moment of panic, I thought 'Ah, crap. Something's gonna break,' and almost expected my lung to collapse. Plus, spending $12 a day on cigarettes was obnoxious.

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