Two weeks; a fortnight as a non-smoker. In short it has been easier than I expected. Weekends are harder. The pace and thrust of the working day has proved to be a welcome distraction rather than a catalyst for craving. In weak moments, I raised the nicotine spray to my mouth and emit a short squirt on the tip of my tongue. It works.
The ease at which the two weeks have passed are almost guilt-ridden. It feels as though it should have been harder. The emotional battle has been one way traffic as I bull-dozed my way towards daily goals.
Physical changes have been the greatest. For the past two weeks my respiratory system has shed its inner skin. I have no symptoms of a cold but have sneezed a dozen times a day. At the risk of passing on too much information; I have generated bloody mucus at an alarming rate. But even that is starting to go. I breathe clearer without the constant rattling in my chest. And somehow, quite inexplicably, I am thinking more clearly.
My wife’s success has been even more dramatic. She has stopped wearing the nicotine patches as they had become redundant in her personal battle. We discussed our progress last night as we lounged in front of the telly.
I confided in something I have been pondering for a week. “It has been easy because of the school”, I confessed. “You mean the stress is less,” my wife auto-corrected.
“No. It is a confidence thing. If I can do what we did in East London then stopping smoking is a piece of piss; a walk in the park.”
But I will not be sanctimonious, dear readers. I will not. Instead, I google local gyms with the intension of losing some weight. I reminded of the old saying, “Heads change schools but schools change Heads.”
Keep the Faith,