My husband hasn’t smoked in 4 months today. 120 days without cigarettes is quite an accomplishment, for someone who used to smoke for 46 years.
“You set the bar pretty high,” he said, and I almost felt sorry for him. I know I did; I quit so easily, I knew right from the start there was no going back.
There have been some changes. My husband gained 16 pounds (snicker), and he blames it all on my cooking. Of course, the hidden stack of candy bars in his lunchbox and his car, can’t be the reason for the weight gain.
He had some significant mood swings at the beginning, then there was a phase where he was drowning in self-pity, but overall it wasn’t too bad. I bit my tongue a few times, told myself to stay calm -what was hard-, but it was the right thing to do.
We both survived, there were no casualties around us.
“Where is all the money,” he asked me the other night, and I laughed out loud. I know what he meant; I never found my saved smoking money either.
Our garden and yard looked pitiful this year. I had an injury on my thumb and couldn’t work the way I wanted to, and my better half didn’t want to work outside because that’s where he used to smoke. He wasn’t up for the challenge, so he said. Personally, I think he can’t tell the difference between a flower and weed -just don’t tell him I said so.
One bush in our neighbor’s yard felt sorry for us and decided to bloom through the fence.
The big test for my husband came last week. Our neighbor across the street is going through some tough times. His wife had just been diagnosed with pancreatic and lung cancer; both are heavy smokers.
We walked over there, and sure enough, they both were sitting in the “man cave” the air was filled with thick smoke. I have no problem when people smoke around me, but I do have a problem to sit in a smoke-filled room. It makes my eyes burn, and it takes my breath away.
We visited for a while, tried to comfort the couple we know so well and offered our support. Then we left and walked quietly back to our home.
I couldn’t wait to get out of my clothes, couldn’t stand the smell on me. Interesting enough, my husband felt the same way.
“Did I smell like that?” he asked me and I just shrugged my shoulders. I don’t want to think about it, because if he did…so did I.
He didn’t feel tempted; it was bothering him as much as it was bothering me.
He passed this test and I am very proud of him!