Today’s the day!

As a 30+ year cigarette smoker, I have always deflected advice from folks who like to walk up to someone enjoying a cigarette with a well-intended (but unsolicited), “You should quit! It’ll kill you, or worse…” I realize it’s coming from a good place and that it’s experience-based, if a little intrusive. My standard response has been, “Yeah, it’ll kill me but so will living, eventually.”

I started smoking when I was 12. I did it for love. The immensely cool guy I had a crush on was a smoker and the only way to get close to him was to hang out behind the gym and at least look like you knew what to do with a cigarette. It worked! I got my first real kiss from him, which made me at least 25% cooler than I was on my own. But it didn’t last. I didn’t get to keep the guy for very long but the smoking stuck with me for the rest of my life… up until now, that is.

Since cancer runs gallops in my family, I sort of always knew some day, out there in the future, that the time would come when I’d have to put the cigarettes down if I wanted to keep living. So, I made a deal with myself that when that time came, I’d accept the reality of the situation with no sniveling. Turns out today is that day. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be putting on nicotine patches to help make the physical withdrawal tolerable. At the same time, I’ll be experimenting with RSO in a bid to shrink the tumor and to make my recovery from the upcoming surgery that much easier.

I feel ready for this… BUT!

One thing that occurs to me is that I’m so sharply defined by my smoking habit that I’m not really sure how to imagine myself without it. Like, who the hell am I if I am not a smoker? Looking back over the years, there are few pictures of me without a cigarette in my hand. Faraway friends tell me that just getting on the phone with me overwhelms them with the urge to light up, even if they’ve never smoked a day in their lives.

One thing that I predict will be a problem on this mission is my, uh… tendency to drink. I can really put it away and enjoy every last drop! But When I drink, I smoke. A LOT! So, they’ve both got to G-O. Living in a 24 hour party town, that might sound like a silly aspiration but since I have a little time to get healthier before my surgery, I realize it’s the right thing to do. Like, I feel like it’s the least I can do to hold up my end of the bargain.

The Plan

So, okay… here we go!

Today, I will be cruising around the French Quarter, roaming from one end to the other, visiting my favorite bars and ordering my favorite drinks from each of them. I will be carrying out this task with tremendous fervor and the attitude that this is my going away party. I’ll be adding photos in the comments section as the afternoon progresses so keep an eye out for progressively more absurd content. The day will be over when, either someone forces me into a taxi, or I manage to drink my false eyelashes right off my face… whichever comes first.

Whenever the expected hangover subsides, I’ll finally get down to the business of writing out the timeline of my experience seeking medical attention. Like I said before, dealing with doctors and their staff can be extremely frustrating, especially if, like me, you distrust Western Medicine and have other ideas about treatment. That was what I really set out to do with my initial post but I feel that this here is an important detour.

I think that a lot of people, when they find themselves diagnosed with cancer, freak out about dropping the bad habits that likely led to their illness. Since I’m such a clown, I figured it’d be fun to present myself as an example of how to kiss an unhealthy lifestyle goodbye. I hope, for anyone out there that’s facing similar circumstances, that this post will offer some comic relief, if nothing else.

Away we go!