16

It’s been 16 days since I last had a drag on a cigarette.

Goodbye my fragrant Texas Five, ol buddy.

Without a doubt, the road has been hard. There were many instances where I almost caved in to the pressure. It seems like whenever I want to quit, the whole world just happens to become smokers and somehow, my face becomes a magnet for smoke.

The first few days were pure hell.

The withdrawal period made my lungs burn with crave. I could not inhale deep enough to sustain my breathing. Sometimes, it got to the point where I’d end up hyperventilating. If I didn’t roll on the floor afterwards, I’d stuff myself with food in an effort to distract myself.

Many a polar chicken pies tragically perished this way.

Whenever I caught a whiff of smoke from anywhere, I’d suck it deep into my lungs; Desperately trying to retain the distinctively familiar aroma for as long as I could. Almost, just almost, tasting it as I imagined it swirled around my tongue.

Just like old times.

Temptation (like irritating specimens) was rampent. And it seems God’s making sure I put in a lot more effort.

I spotted a cheap-slut-of-a-cig-butt like a siren, in the ashtray, beckoning me to relight it. And packs of cigs popped out from hell-knows-where. Friends automatically whipped out their ciggies for a little communal sharing. I suddenly found packs of cigs all ove the house.

I became the PSA of Ciggies (read : port of call). I swear they were all over the place.

I had to claw myself away.

And it’s funny to go through the cravings and withdrawals, acknowledging my body and mind’s dependence on a rolled up stick of dried leaves. I didn’t get the sniffles. Instead, I got the ATTITUDE and a flurry of headaches.

Pure wall banging headaches.

Bundled with the sudden increase of complex cases to the ward. Hello, whoever said my ‘kusu island’ was uber slack should look at the pages of changes I had to plough through, a jungle of dressings and a 5 second interval call bell fest we’ve been experiencing since the start of the year.

By the time the patients come over to us, we know full well that the patients have outlived the main building's tolerance.

Step down care my foot!

And as if that wasn’t enough, I got my menses. Coupled with free bloating and the general upheaval of hormones. With such terrors, I pretty much hope this will be the last time I need to put myself through this shit.

It’s getting better with the passing days though. Either that or I'm getting accustomed to the chronic pain. Haha. Slaps forehead.

I’m still a passive smoker when my brother gets back. He stacks the cartons of ciggies like Lego blocks to taunt me. “We’ve got stock.” He’d say.

I swear the erection of my middle finger is a knee-jerk reflex. Absolutely nothing to do with my pure, conscious mind. *bats eyelids while still waving finger in question*

I try my best to stay out of the way. These few days has led me to satiate the hand-to-mouth fixation with food. Sometimes, I end up polishing off packs and packs of biscuits, cuttlefish, potato chips etc. I’m starting to recognize the signs and I’m adapting by substituting the junk food with water instead.

I can tell you frankly. It has been tough. I seriously hope this time, I can last. I'm getting too old to go through this drama again.