Days Three and Four

Oh my. Remember me mentioning those “flu-like symptoms”? Well, I’m feeling them. Definitely feeling them. There’s that certain taste in my breath, and my chest crud is getting more loose. Ugh. In the hope of good judgment, I took a 600mg guaifenesen caplet (ah, the last true bitter pill, a horse pill). Double ugh. I can only hope that this, as well as sticking to drinking a lot of water, will help me hack all this up.

So, I was at the coffee shop yesterday afternoon; after being there for half an hour, my chest started tightening and tweaking (perhaps it was the caffeine from the tea), so I took off on a walk down the drag. Did some window shopping. By the time I got back, my chest was feeling great, heartbeat normal, lungs open. I hung out for a little over an hour more with some friends, but after being out in the heat and around their smoking (which didn’t bother me until it got to be too much) I decided to call it an afternoon and head home to cool my heels. I fully intended to go out again around sunset and do something (on a saturday night of all nights), but I stayed home, craving and coughing. Retired to bed around 1am.

This morning, day four, I got up around 9:30am. Had a good cough and hack, and just tooled around the house. Started to feel a little something in my chest and throat. Ears too. Not craving as badly as before, but it’s still there. I laid down for a nap around 1pm, got up shortly after, and that’s when the “quitter’s flu” started to hit me. BAM!

After going out into the heat outside for some dinner and coming back, I am full of food, drained of energy, and my chest is doing one of those “Yeah, I’m still here — remember me?” things. The Flu has come.

Ugh. Get me through this day.

Day Two

Today was a little weird. During the day, while at work, I had a lot of energy and spark; was really weird, yes. Whether that can be attributed to non-smoking or not remains to be seen. I’m thinking that the prospects of having some kind of change happening in my life, something for the better, has made me more boisterous, or at the least I’m carrying on a little more loudly to drown out my cravings.

Still, I feel like it’s nothing less than natural for me to have a lit cigarette in my mouth to breathe through. I usually don’t notice my breathing, but I get that catch in my chest, the one that usually is felt when there’s smoke in it, and suddenly I’m paying attention to my breathing and the fact that there’s no cigarette in my mouth. It’s mildly frustrating, but I remember that it’s for my own ability to breathe freely that I quit.

I did have the most amazing thing happen to me a few hours ago, though. After depriving myself of some much-needed dinner for a few hours (I was visiting a friend), I went to a nearby fast-food restaurant and ordered a bacon cheeseburger meal. Man, what a burger. Anyway, I don’t know if it was the food deprivation or the smoke deprivation but one thing was for certain — that was the best god-damned burger I’ve had in years. I could taste everything; this was made clearly apparent to me when I noticed that for the first time I actually tasted a mild smokiness in the bacon. Wow. After two years of eating there, basically the same thing every time, I have never tasted that before. Mmmm. I’ve heard that your sense of taste comes back when you quit, but that brief encounter proved it to me.

Flavorful fullness aside, though, I am fighting the cravings, the physical cravings. With a full belly and nothing to fill my lungs, I feel a little incomplete. I definitely feel dizzy, light-headed. Not sure what to make of it. The neural pathways that have gotten accustomed to the tingling buzz of nicotine are numb and mildly spinning; there’s no more buzz, no chemical vibrations, nothing to mask any natural headiness that may have been there all along, and I’m left with this. It’s not nauseating, not disagreeable, it’s just that my eyes are dryer, sleepier, and less attuned to what my inner ears are saying, so sometimes things spin a little when I move my head. And, of course, there’s the low-grade headache. Acetaminophen is my closest friend.

Earlier today I got a hint of things to come — I had a good hacking fit, felt like something in my lower lungs jarred loose because they stung for a little bit. Over the course of the next week or two I can expect some “flu-like symptoms”, also known as “my chest is starting to work again by getting rid of the crud that’s been hanging around for a few years” cough. My doctor has assured me that when I go through that stage that I’m not sick, just healing.

I’m sorry for the gross details but this column is my attempt to fully chronicle my own experiences with quitting smoking. If you’re quitting, or wanting to quit, then your mileage may vary, of course. But for right now, though, my second day has been a harder test which I feel I passed. If I can make it past tomorrow, I think my physical cravings should start to diminish; it’s my neurological and psychological cravings I worry about. Here’s to staying on the wagon.

-Shawn

Day One

My first day as a non-smoker. Ugh. I haven’t had a smoke since midnight of last night. And I’m nic-fitting bad.

Grrrrrrr.

Over the past few weeks I’ve been having increasing difficulty with the simple act of breathing. This is wrong, wrong, wrong. After having some difficulty last night, I had had enough. As I finished off the last half of a borrowed cigarette, I knew that it may be my last for a good long while.

Most of today was ok, but there were times where I thought I could just easily step outside and breathe a little bit of smoke, or just pick up a cig and make my lungs feel like they’re working, or whatever. I keep expecting a cig to be nearby and lit, and when I realize and remind myself that I’ve quit, it’s such a shock.

But here’s the good part: I can breathe, and I can breathe better than yesterday. Over the course of the day, my lungs have been tweaking a bit, tightening and relaxing (as they’re accustomed to doing), but overall the lack of smoke in them has produced less phlegm, less to hack up. The hacks are now getting dry, though; I have a prescription of guaifenesen caplets (horse pills) to help release the crud.

Overall, I’ve been on the up-and-up, kinda chipper today, but I still feel tired, drained, tense about the craving. Ugh. Hoping that drinking a lot of extra water and extra Coca-Cola will help keep me going. I’ve never had a nicotine-withdrawal headache before; stupifying.

But this is my goal, folks; I want to quit, I need to quit smoking. I finally understand that I can’t moderate myself when it comes to “the hunger”; if I “taper off” I’m still smoking a pack a day. The past month has shown me that much. Smoking may be my death if I don’t quit now. My cardio-pulmonary systems surely depend on going without it. I just hope my psycho-nervous system can cope.

Wish me luck, folks.

Three Year Anniversary

Wow. As of Monday, July 28, 2003 I will have been here in Austin for three years! Wow. That far exceeds my time in North Carolina twice-over. I am impressed.

And what a looooong, strange trip it’s beeeen.

I knew my anniversary was coming up, so tonight I did some light research in my journal and found the date that I moved down here from Texarkana back in 2000. Man, those were glorious days.

After staying up late on that thursday before I moved, I packed everything up, dividing it all up into carloads, prioritizing everything into “I need this to survive”, “I need that when I get a place” and “That’s the rest of my stuff” piles. I loaded the survival pile into my car, loaded it to the gills; I believe I added roughly 500 pounds to the car’s weight with essentials. I then neatly placed everything else into stashes around my bedroom.

After a long and necessary shower, I got dressed, grabbed by backpack, my map, my move money, gave much love to all the cats and the dog, gave a sad wave to my mother who was sleeping before her workday, wiped away some tears, and headed out on the road. It was 2am.

I arrived in Austin around 8am, just in time for Friday Morning Rush Hour. It was hellish and, for some parts, slow, but I knew that if I could make it deep enough into town I could cut over westward from I-35 and reach Lamar. Once I was on Lamar, I knew where I was. Found my way to my friends’ house to find they had already gone to work, so I freshened up a little bit, found a city map, and went to where one of my friends worked. He took a break and we went for coffee.

It was there that I got my first taste of Austin – walking from the ACC campus down 14th street, past a greenbelt, past a feminist bookstore, across Lamar, and on to Einsteins Bagels where, zonked from the driving, the lack of sleep, and the brisk walking in the late-July heat and dazing light, I proceeded to clumsily spill and splash my coffee on the sugar bar. Something hot to drink after all that was a bad idea, but I really needed the caffeine. We grabbed a spot to lean, chatted for a few minutes, and I grabbed my first Austin Chronicle. We headed back uphill to campus.

I had a first-meeting to make at 11; that much was set in stone. I had to go to Hall-Kinion and meet my contract agent face-to-face. Up to that point, we had each been little more than voices on the telephone. Still zonked, I got lost while driving through Zilker Park, but after a pull-off and a map check, I got my bearings and turned at the right intersection, found the right business building, found the parking garage, then found the office.

The receptionist greeted me and messaged to my agent that I was there, and he welcomed me in, offered me a drink, and we exchanged cordials and chit-chat over some minor paperwork and non-disclosure agreements (ah, the perils of being a contract programmer). He asked if I’d like some lunch, perhaps the steak place next door, and I accepted. Wine-and-dine, man. Sleepy from being awake since thursday am, and made sleepier by a full belly, I was ready to go and make my way back towards campus to get my friend and go back to the house for some shuteye. My agent took the check and without looking at it he slipped the company credit card in the book, handed it to the waiter, and when the receipt was returned, we were off like a tube-top and back to the office. Heh. Four hours into Austin and I was already eating on a company expense account!

That weekend proved to be a major challenge and an immense experience as my two hosts graciously gave me tips, driving directions, local history, and doing everything in their power to introduce me to the true vibe of Austin. They helped me find the office on Bee Caves Road where I would be reporting for duty on Monday, my first day at my first real tech job. I couldn’t have asked for a better crash course on Austin (thank you guys); I got an insight that only hinted at what the “townies” have known for years, and it was a great start. Three weeks and two paychecks ($$!!) later, I made their futon available once again and found my own place to live.

I was an Austinite.

Since then, for the most part my time here has been a steady derth of straight-as-she-goes lifestyle mixed up with bouts of dizzying but welcomed whirlwinds of change. And I’m still changing, still finding new places, still seeing new things, still meeting new people. I have to say that living here in Austin has been rather rewarding, even during the hard times, and I wouldn’t have traded it for any other place.

Thanks, Austin, for taking me in. Three years is one hell of a ride. Here’s to many, many more.

Y’know, I still have that map. :smiles:

Bitter Sweet Salty Sour Sweet

I really did overdo myself sunday. After sleeping for something like 12 hours I woke up at 3:30am sunday morning. After milling around the room for a few hours, I gathered the gumption to go do some laundry. Sitting in my car in front of the laundromat was a unique experience; while the laundry was going, I sat out there and just soaked in the quiet of a sunday-morning dawn. I don’t know what it is about morning hues, but it always puts me at peace. I hungered for a good camera and decent photographic skills.

After laundry, I returned to the apartment just in time to meet up with my roomate when he got home from work. We had set aside the day to go to McGregor Park, also known as Hippy Hollow, the only clothing-optional state park in Texas. We headed out and got there around 9am, and it was quiet, calm, and peaceful. After settling down in a nice shady spot with a good view, we stripped down to our naturals and just chilled out. I was quite surprised with how not-modest I was about the whole nudity thing. It just felt O.K.

I crawled down the rocks to the water and took a swim for about fifteen minutes – my first swim in a year. Since I usually take showers only, being surrounded by water has become a new sensation, but after a few short minutes I got accustomed to it. For the lack of any kind of flotational device (note to self: get a floatie before next time), I got tired and crawled out to go back up to our stoop under the shade tree to air dry. Heart racing and dripping wet, I felt so good. I finally understood the joy of skinny dipping.

We left around 1:30pm, tired, hot, and a little baked from the sun. I managed to get a little too red from relying on nothing more than the solar protection equivalent of SPF-shadetree. The hot car didn’t make it that much easier, but we weathered it like troopers and headed back into town.

On the way in, my car suffered a bad mechanical failure: during a hard-braking event to stop at a traffic signal between Hwy 360 and MoPac I heard a pop and a crunch coming from my left-front wheel. After driving the way to MoPac, then to Burnet, then to Lamar, the crunch and the grinding got worse – I was hearing grinding while driving, and the braking action was tough and chunky. This was not good. Being sunday afternoon, my chances for a mechanic’s help were slim to none, but I had to try anyway; we headed down Lamar towards two brake shops. The first was closed, but 3 miles down, with my hand on the emergency-brake handle just in case, we found the other shop was opened until 3pm; it was 2 o’clock. A true blessing.

We got the car into the shop, they pulled the wheels off, and after inspection of all the brakes, the mechanics confirmed what I had suspected: the outside brake pad on my front-left wheel had gotten so thin that during that hard-brake the pad had snapped in half and was caught in the clamp so the the clamp itself was grinding into my rotor. The situation wasn’t pretty. So, after a hundred bucks and two hours of time I was driving away with brand new brake pads and newly-machined rotors on my front wheels.

:sighs: At least my brakes work better. :)

So, after dealing with all that, we head over to a local fried-fish chain restaurant (grease in a sunburned body = bad idea), and we finally get home, take turns with the shower, and I discovered just how red I turned from the beach. Youch! Aloe vera felt so good. Roomate went to take a nap, I tool around online, and head out to grab a friend to go hang out at Mojo’s. By that time, the heat, sunburn, and heavy heavy grease did their number on my stomach, and I got nauseous again.

My friend and I opt for walking around for a little bit to get my stomach settled, thereby overstretching myself again, and we head home to freshen up and rendezvous back to my apartment for a planned dinner and movies. He and his girlfriend show up, my roomate prepares dinner, and by the time dinner’s ready, I’m about to heave-hork again. I had to excuse myself and go to bed.

If you’ve noticed, nausea is becoming a recurring theme. I beseech the gods of medical technology to make my stomach whole again. This morning I still wasn’t A-OK, but I went to work like a trooper and stuck it out. Finally, around mid-afternoon, I was ok to eat something, so I heated the charity-plate my roomate had made for me and picked at it for an hour. Damn was it good. I only wish I could’ve eaten it last night. Huh.

Saturday was short, sunday morning was sweet, and the rest of the day was sweaty, sour, and more sour.

I woke up this morning with a really bizarre dream involving a girl I know; it’s quite apparent to me how I feel for her, because in the dream we were making love and I felt the heat, the pressure, the holding, the whole thing. Love-dreams always unsettle me, but it’s a sweetness that I can carry with me throughout the day. Little things like that make my life better.

And it all starts with holding someone’s hand.