Becoming a Non-Smoker

My husband decided to quit smoking. A few weeks ago, he went on the patch and he hasn't had a relapse. Good for him. Ed started smoking when he was 13 or 14, and he comes from a family of heavy smokers. It's taken some serious medication and a lot of gumption for him to give up tobacco. He said that he just realized how dependent he'd become on cigarettes. If they were there, he'd smoke them. If they weren't, he'd go look for some. He says the addiction was too demanding and he was tired of being controlled by the habit.

Ed has quit tobacco before. When I met him, he'd been smoke-free for seven years, and that time he'd quit cold turkey. He had been the guy who lights his first cigarette before his feet hit the floor in the morning. He finally got so sick from/of smoking that he bought a pack of cigarettes, threw it in the glove box of his truck, and never opened them. He took up jogging along Highway 101. Many people would consider that a death wish.

I was still a smoker when we met. I was the worst kind of smoker, I guess, the one nobody knows about and the kind that finds other smokers obnoxious. I mostly smoked at home or in the car. I smoked a lot when I was at the keyboard, writing. I'd fill an ashtray so quickly that I thought I'd never be able to compose and not smoke. Look at me now. I quit right before Ed and I got married. My doctor wouldn't prescribe birth control unless I gave up the cigarettes. Although I wasn't a heavy smoker, it was still a painful process. I went cold turkey, ate lots of hard candy, chewed gum, and crunched ice (not good). But, Ed was there for support (an ex-smoker, then), and I felt I was giving up the smokes for the man I loved. What better reason could a gal possibly have?

Fast forward three or four years. Ed and I, happily married and living in our little house in Yachats, were visited by my father and his wife. My father is a a long-time tobacco user, his delivery systems of choice the pipe and the "chew." Ed and my father spent some time on the front porch shooting the breeze, and Ed got out his old pipes. "I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed smoking a pipe!" He enthused. The Pandora's box had been opened. He smoked a few cigars. I experimented with clove cigarettes. Before you knew it, we were both smoking again.

So, when Ed decided to quit this time, I knew that I would have to do the same. At first, he advised me not to quit until he was done. We both feared what would happen if we both gave up nicotene at the same time. Imagine an emotional twister touching down INSIDE the house. I told him I couldn't quit until my first year of teaching was behind me. I needed those cigarettes to and from work! Although I was only a "light smoker" (usually five cigarettes a day), I felt a flutter of panic when I thought about quitting. That's how you know you're addicted. I was comfortable with my habit, thank you very much, and I wasn't bothering anyone with second hand smoke. I almost thought of cigarettes as an after dinner mint or a splash of brandy. They were a welcome release, a small naughty luxury, a controlled bad habit. When I had started back smoking again, I'd taken up flossing before bed every night. I rationalized that one bad habit could be balanced by one good one. I'd quit over the summer, after Ed was clear, free, and strong enough to put up with my tantrums.

Then, last Saturday night, we went to bed and my husband said, "I can't kiss you. You smell like a cigarette and I want one right now. The urges are really strong." I pecked him on the cheek and we rolled over and went to sleep. Since he had quit, I'd snuck around, getting in a couple of smokes every night -- one after dinner, another one before bed. I knew he was struggling, and I tried to be discreet. Still, the stink don't lie. The next day I realized that I was making quitting for him harder than it had to be. So, after lunch, I sat on the porch of our new, unfinished house, and smoked my last cigarette. (Again.) I rounded up the smokes and tossed them out with the burnable trash. I came inside and said, "Kiss me! I just smoked my last cigarette!" And he did.

I'm not on the patch, but I have discovered Tootsie Rolls. Ed is doing really well on the patch. I think I can do this without it. Ed says that he thinks about all the things he can have instead of what he can't. I think about chocolate a lot. It's been four days for me now. Four days and counting. Strike up the band, not a match.