Quickie at the clinic

In and out. Quickly. This is exactly how it ought to be.

Arrived at the cessation clinic at (high?) noon. Quick chat, carbon monoxide levels at 2ppm (for which I blame the bus belching out diesel fumes that I passed on the walk down), new prescription for another week of Nicorette patches. Left at 5 past the hour. Job done.

Life as a non smoker. What do I do, now that I have all this extra free time? I am so much healthier for it too. I feel a cooked breakfast coming on to compensate.

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Happy Friday

Thank crunchie it’s Friday.

What does Friday mean to you?

The weekend approaches. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, mostly, when I am not having to work so hard to convince people that certain things are good things – people really do get precious about what “belongs” to them. Yesterday was a good day catching up with a number of people who I enjoy spending time with at the office. It was great seeing them. I had a couple of very productive meetings and although there are some challenges ahead, I have some clear definition of how we plan to overcome them.

My two week stint of staying off my motorbike for medical reasons are almost over. I admit, I took it for a quick spin last week, but it was just that, a quick spin and for the majority of it, on a private road.

And I’m almost through my fourth box of Nicorette patches – the cravings come and go, but still smoke free. Mental note to self – need to go to the cessation clinic in the morning and get a repeat prescription.

These things make me happy. Though I keep it well hidden.

Cessation clinic visit 3

Today was visit number three, which makes it day 12 smoke free. I wasnt stood waiting outside for it to open last week, so it was a little busier today. A saw a new nurse (new to me, not to the clinic) called Karen, pleasant, well mannered and offering the usual support.

My carbon monoxide levels are down to 2ppm (parts per million), a big drop from my first visit of 47.¬†We talked about different coping mechanisms, methods of distracting myself when I have the urges and Karen wrote me a two week prescription for the patches which is excellent as it means I don’t need to go back for a fortnight.

It does feel strange, having this dependency on them for the patches – though far better than being dependent on cigarettes. I wonder how heroin addicts cope with having to visit a pharmacy every day when they are on methadone. It is probably the least of their worries most of the time, but it is a constant battle for them and ties them to when and where they can go places. Either way, the visits to the cessation clinic remind me that smoking is an addiction, one that has had me in it’s grasp for nearly 30 years and cost me a bloody fortune. It gives me a boost to know that I am kicking it into touch and is something I need to remind myself of when this whole “packing in” endeavour get’s me down.