Still on the wagon.
It's been a few days since I posted, have had all sorts of stuff going on around the house to keep me busy. Am in the market to buy some tin-foil hats.
In the first few days of my quit, the craves hit hard. At those times I would quite happily have barbequed a live kitten if I thought a ciggie might be my reward. However, willpower prevailed, the craves were short lived, and kittens the world over rejoiced.
Long story short - I haven't smoked for 22 days, although it was 'effin close at times.
Now, I'm dealing with a whole new experience. It's best described as a low-level constant yearning for smokes that never goes away. I wake up, and I want a smoke. The day progresses, and I want a smoke, I get ready for bed, and I want a smoke. At the moment my coping strategy is stomping up and down and swearing a lot.
Incidentally, it's my birthday tomorrow, 41 years of being alive. Am giving the postman a rest now, and have decided to be a conspiracy theorist instead.
Had a letter delivered to me today, it was addressed to me at number 22 (even though I live at number 24)
41 years of life minus 19 (I was born on the 19th) = 22, the amount of days I haven't smoked for.
The number of pm's plus the number of emails I have received from the good folks who inhabit these boards is 22.
The number of words in the last sentence = 22.
I have 22 drinking straws left.
And finally *..Queue spooky music..* The date of my next dentist appointment is the 22nd, which will be my 22nd visit since my treatment started, and will have to finish pretty sharpish because straight afterwards my wife has her 22nd hospital visit since her diagnosis - which was on the 22nd September last year.
I could totally smoke 22 ciggies right now (simultaneously).
Report from home. Missus had to have some fluid drained from wounds yesterday, has made her much comfier. She is now away with the fairies on account of getting prescribed super mega-strength pain killers. Back to hospital on Monday.
onwards and upwards