September 23, 2002, 10:00 AM:

We both had the day off work and planned to run some errands and maybe have lunch somewhere, but our first stop would be The Smoke Shoppe, since we were almost out of cigarettes.  Then Larry said, “Let’s quit.”  I took a breath, thought “Oh, shit!” then said “OK”  and stubbed out my last cigarette.  So our first stop of the day turned out to be Sam’s, where we bought two weeks’ worth of Nicorette patches for each of us, and we commenced withdrawal from nicotine.   I can no longer be smug and superior (something I’m usually quite good at) when talking about drug addiction, since I had to admit that I am an addict.  It was a tough couple weeks, with Larry longingly eyeing the discarded half-smoked cigarettes in the streets around Goodyear, and me struggling not to choke stupid people in a fit of nicotine-deprived rage.   But after a couple weeks, the brain could actually start making decisions again, and when the body started crying for a fix, the brain would counter with “SHUT UP, you whiny weak-ass, you don’t need a smoke, have a BreathSaver and get on with your life.”  And then driving around one day I noticed how fresh the air smelled.  And I wasn’t twitching my way through a meeting or in a restaurant, waiting to get outside and light up.  And we could get off the plane after the long flight to LA and not mow down little old ladies and their walkers on the concourse in our haste to get outside to a smoking area.  And best of all, Larry retired in January ‘03, and we couldn’t have afforded THAT if we were still spending an embarrassing  amount of money each month on Marlboros.  We were free at last, free at last!

Don’t get me wrong.  To this day, when Larry says he had a dream about cheating on me, I know he wasn’t fantasizing about a three-way romp with Angelina Jolie and Keira Knightley;  he meant he had been dreaming about smoking (he’s smart enough not to share the Jolie-Knightley fantasies with me).   I wouldn’t dare light up a cigarette because I’m afraid I’d not be able to stop at one.  But my addiction is under MY control now, and that bastard nicotine is not a part of my life anymore.  And I think that was the key to my successfully kicking the habit:  I HATED feeling so dependent on the cigarettes.  Even as I was struggling in the early phase of withdrawal, rubbing the nicotine patch in an effort to PUSH some of the drug into my skin, I remember thinking that soon I’d be free from this.  And I am.  WE are.

So thank you, Larry, for saying, “Let’s quit” six years ago:  we did it!   You can cheat all you want in your dreams–just  don’t act on it in your waking hours!  Happy Anniversary, honey!

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