Giving Up Smoking
It was February 15th at 1.00pm.
A disembodied voice had rung me, a week before
"Are you still smoking?"
"smoking what?"
11 seconds of silence
"Whatever"
"Why?"
"I think you should stop"
Oh,
Kyan came home with a gastro bug that started with him and continued cutting a swathe through the family, Yvette calling out in the middle of the night, hearing sick making noises from the bathroom
"Are you Ok, Kyan?.
"It's me Jai"
An hour later
"Are you Ok, Jai?
It;s me Brock"
And two hours after that
"Are you OK, Brock/"
"It's me Zach"
Sunday all day Yvette vomited for Australia, her stomach in spasms, and bucket close at the ready. I sympathised but mentally patted myself on the back for having a cast iron stomach.
Monday Valentines' day 2011, felt fine, and had planned an outing with old friend Robyn for Tuesday morning to Pinewood Cinemas to see a movie I had recommended, a Mike Leigh film.
The day began hot and sunny, I felt a little headache coming on and was tempted to ring my friend and cancel. But persisted and picked her up and off we went chatting and catching up.
I was a determined smoker, smoking for 20 years or so. Not starting till I was 30, after having the girls.I loved menthol thinking it was smart and sophisticated.
Holly Golightly, from Breakfast At Tiffany's but was sick of being addicted to something. It was so not cool to smoke anymore.
And yet I could not stop, dreading withdrawal, not imagining my life without smoking, the nervous habit, the calming of anxiety.
So as Robyn parked the car I went into coles and bought a box of nicotine patches, for the 2 hour trip to the movies and slapped one on at 1pm.
We decided to have lunch and feeling the tiniest bit queasy decided in my wisdom ??????? to have orange juice and a curried egg sandwich. Robyn commenting,
"Do you think orange juice is a good choice if you're not feeling well ?"
"I'm fine, cast iron stomach, you know"
"Ok. "
I had a feeling I was goiung to get the gastro, just not right then but I had reasoned to myself if I was going to be ill I might as well detox from cigarettes.
The illness would be vile but get me over the "hump" of the first 48 hours of withdrawal.
We lined up with "the old dears" and the thatre felt hot and stuffy, 10 minutes in, without any preamble I decided to pull out the top of my elasticated dress and vomited straight into it.
Just like that.
I gathered my dress to me and made it to the top lobby before I projectile vomited again not quite making the pristine shiny stainless steel bin.
A young usher rushed up to me and gasping and vomiting I waved him away and apologised,
"Don't worry I've seen worse", he cheerfully commented.
I ran down the stairs and decorated the front lobby , still running I made it to the bathroom, and vomited over the handbasin and up the wall. No one there so made it to the loos and vomited and vomited.
I pulled down my dress and rinsed it in the sink, and dried myself under the hand blower. I wet my hair and face and returned to the top level and sat in the aisle, and the picture was dreary and long. My choice.
Robyn had wondered where I had gone and I quickly told her, just longing for home.
Just our luck it was a slow crawl home and I drove home in peak hour, no air conditioning in my little Corolla and by the time I reached home, I ducked the family, straight into my unit, shower, soaking myself.
I lay down on the bed and passed out for 3 hours, coming to and being sick again and again. All thought of smoking gone, just blinding, delirious sheet soaking, illness. And by the time I reappeared to the family it was 3 days since I had been outside.
I went to the doctor's and had a script for patches and some sleeping tablets. As I knew from old attempts that nicotine withdrawal caused insomnia for at least the first month.
After the illness I was still in habit withdrawal, looking at people smoking and feeling jealous. Watching them put out butts still lit on the ground and wanting to snatch them up and have one puff, just one puff.
Someone told me the secret was to never ever buy a packet. So I never ever did. For the first three weeks I had to cram things in my mouth, my mouth felt like it had to be stuffed full.
I had friends who had been through the same thing and one said she had a "gut" for two years. I didn't sit outside anymore, my habitual smoking step, and I stepped over it every morning.
I emptied the ashtrays in the car and wouldn't let anyone smoke in it either. The smell didn't worry me I just didn't want the car to stink.
And when I went to Camp Eden I thought I was fit after giving up, not at all. I was so unfit and packed solid with nice post giving up weight. My boobs huge and a big fat bum. So I came home in July and started walking and eating healthy.
Noy a jot of weight came off, apart from a 2.3 kilo loss at Camp Eden, But I quickly put that back on when I first came home. I continued to dance, walk. still no weight off.
And then one day I just said.
"I give up" and left it to the powers that "be", and it fell off, I kid you not, my appetite decided to give up, only wanting little amounts.
I developed a mucousy cough that lasted ten weeks, and made me throw up, having to spit (which I hate ) and it was all the gunk coming up from my lungs.
And finally I was clear of the dreaded addiction and had boundless energy from the weight loss. I live cheek and jowk to the skinniest woman in the Southern Hemisphere who has a metabolism of a race horse.
She eats I eat, she doesn't I don't. We run the boys like a business during the week and never sit down, sometimes like on Friday working until 1.30 am cleaning and folding clothes. And with three large teen boys, three smaller boys, one 7, one 3 and one a baby who is just walking at 1 it can be full on.
The logistics of running a family this big has to be seen to be believed, The paperwork times six, the washing, the mending, the scolding, the teaching, the helping with homework and the taxiing around. It's a well oiled machine now but wasn't always this easy.
But we always stop for morning tea, together, Yvette and I, and stop for lunch, putting babies down for naps and having "Our time". And after that it gets hectic again until bedtime.
I always say in the house,
"If it's not a kid it's an animal" and there always is.
Kayko the wonder husky lolls around howling and pining for her constant companion, Bonnie who died 3 weeks ago.
Which devastated for the family for far longer than we thought it would. But she rests eternally under my window as I write.
Beautiful Bonnie, running around in the backyard on the Friday with her new toy and then deciding to die that night, in her sleep which all the boys wanted. Lovely girl of 11 years.
And a sad funeral of a 39 year old Mother of 3 and I begged someone for a cigarette after, and found it did help, but was not tempted to have another.
So it's been 10 months now, 10 months of no cigarettes and I miss it not.
Thanks to my lovely friend who made me...
Love Janette
A disembodied voice had rung me, a week before
"Are you still smoking?"
"smoking what?"
11 seconds of silence
"Whatever"
"Why?"
"I think you should stop"
Oh,
Kyan came home with a gastro bug that started with him and continued cutting a swathe through the family, Yvette calling out in the middle of the night, hearing sick making noises from the bathroom
"Are you Ok, Kyan?.
"It's me Jai"
An hour later
"Are you Ok, Jai?
It;s me Brock"
And two hours after that
"Are you OK, Brock/"
"It's me Zach"
Sunday all day Yvette vomited for Australia, her stomach in spasms, and bucket close at the ready. I sympathised but mentally patted myself on the back for having a cast iron stomach.
Monday Valentines' day 2011, felt fine, and had planned an outing with old friend Robyn for Tuesday morning to Pinewood Cinemas to see a movie I had recommended, a Mike Leigh film.
The day began hot and sunny, I felt a little headache coming on and was tempted to ring my friend and cancel. But persisted and picked her up and off we went chatting and catching up.
I was a determined smoker, smoking for 20 years or so. Not starting till I was 30, after having the girls.I loved menthol thinking it was smart and sophisticated.
Holly Golightly, from Breakfast At Tiffany's but was sick of being addicted to something. It was so not cool to smoke anymore.
And yet I could not stop, dreading withdrawal, not imagining my life without smoking, the nervous habit, the calming of anxiety.
So as Robyn parked the car I went into coles and bought a box of nicotine patches, for the 2 hour trip to the movies and slapped one on at 1pm.
We decided to have lunch and feeling the tiniest bit queasy decided in my wisdom ??????? to have orange juice and a curried egg sandwich. Robyn commenting,
"Do you think orange juice is a good choice if you're not feeling well ?"
"I'm fine, cast iron stomach, you know"
"Ok. "
I had a feeling I was goiung to get the gastro, just not right then but I had reasoned to myself if I was going to be ill I might as well detox from cigarettes.
The illness would be vile but get me over the "hump" of the first 48 hours of withdrawal.
We lined up with "the old dears" and the thatre felt hot and stuffy, 10 minutes in, without any preamble I decided to pull out the top of my elasticated dress and vomited straight into it.
Just like that.
I gathered my dress to me and made it to the top lobby before I projectile vomited again not quite making the pristine shiny stainless steel bin.
A young usher rushed up to me and gasping and vomiting I waved him away and apologised,
"Don't worry I've seen worse", he cheerfully commented.
I ran down the stairs and decorated the front lobby , still running I made it to the bathroom, and vomited over the handbasin and up the wall. No one there so made it to the loos and vomited and vomited.
I pulled down my dress and rinsed it in the sink, and dried myself under the hand blower. I wet my hair and face and returned to the top level and sat in the aisle, and the picture was dreary and long. My choice.
Robyn had wondered where I had gone and I quickly told her, just longing for home.
Just our luck it was a slow crawl home and I drove home in peak hour, no air conditioning in my little Corolla and by the time I reached home, I ducked the family, straight into my unit, shower, soaking myself.
I lay down on the bed and passed out for 3 hours, coming to and being sick again and again. All thought of smoking gone, just blinding, delirious sheet soaking, illness. And by the time I reappeared to the family it was 3 days since I had been outside.
I went to the doctor's and had a script for patches and some sleeping tablets. As I knew from old attempts that nicotine withdrawal caused insomnia for at least the first month.
After the illness I was still in habit withdrawal, looking at people smoking and feeling jealous. Watching them put out butts still lit on the ground and wanting to snatch them up and have one puff, just one puff.
Someone told me the secret was to never ever buy a packet. So I never ever did. For the first three weeks I had to cram things in my mouth, my mouth felt like it had to be stuffed full.
I had friends who had been through the same thing and one said she had a "gut" for two years. I didn't sit outside anymore, my habitual smoking step, and I stepped over it every morning.
I emptied the ashtrays in the car and wouldn't let anyone smoke in it either. The smell didn't worry me I just didn't want the car to stink.
And when I went to Camp Eden I thought I was fit after giving up, not at all. I was so unfit and packed solid with nice post giving up weight. My boobs huge and a big fat bum. So I came home in July and started walking and eating healthy.
Noy a jot of weight came off, apart from a 2.3 kilo loss at Camp Eden, But I quickly put that back on when I first came home. I continued to dance, walk. still no weight off.
And then one day I just said.
"I give up" and left it to the powers that "be", and it fell off, I kid you not, my appetite decided to give up, only wanting little amounts.
I developed a mucousy cough that lasted ten weeks, and made me throw up, having to spit (which I hate ) and it was all the gunk coming up from my lungs.
And finally I was clear of the dreaded addiction and had boundless energy from the weight loss. I live cheek and jowk to the skinniest woman in the Southern Hemisphere who has a metabolism of a race horse.
She eats I eat, she doesn't I don't. We run the boys like a business during the week and never sit down, sometimes like on Friday working until 1.30 am cleaning and folding clothes. And with three large teen boys, three smaller boys, one 7, one 3 and one a baby who is just walking at 1 it can be full on.
The logistics of running a family this big has to be seen to be believed, The paperwork times six, the washing, the mending, the scolding, the teaching, the helping with homework and the taxiing around. It's a well oiled machine now but wasn't always this easy.
But we always stop for morning tea, together, Yvette and I, and stop for lunch, putting babies down for naps and having "Our time". And after that it gets hectic again until bedtime.
I always say in the house,
"If it's not a kid it's an animal" and there always is.
Kayko the wonder husky lolls around howling and pining for her constant companion, Bonnie who died 3 weeks ago.
Which devastated for the family for far longer than we thought it would. But she rests eternally under my window as I write.
Beautiful Bonnie, running around in the backyard on the Friday with her new toy and then deciding to die that night, in her sleep which all the boys wanted. Lovely girl of 11 years.
And a sad funeral of a 39 year old Mother of 3 and I begged someone for a cigarette after, and found it did help, but was not tempted to have another.
So it's been 10 months now, 10 months of no cigarettes and I miss it not.
Thanks to my lovely friend who made me...
Love Janette
