Woe Is Me

I remember the day I finally quit smoking cigarettes. Of course I didn't know then that this day would be the day I finally got the monkey off my back as I'd failed to break the habit so many times before. What saw me successfully through on that day and all the days subsequent for 18 years was firing up a cigar in lieu of a cigarette. Not much of a change there Tobacco Stain you say, but ah, you would be so wrong. Here was a way, I learned, to puff contentedly, blow smoke about and busy the hands, a way that did not require inhalation of the smoke to be enjoyable. Indeed, here was a way, additionally, to relax, sip a cocktail, and converse civilly, an actual method to quiet the nerves and occupy the time between conversational tidbits.

It has been nearly seven months since I contentedly puffed my last cigar and oh how I miss them. Gone too, with my coronas, churchill's and panatellas is the feeling of ease, the sense of inner calm and the "it doesn't get any better than this" attitude that always prevailed when I had a cigar in hand. There is, I have found, just no substitute. I cannot sit quietly for any length of time like life-long non-smokers or those who continue to smoke for that matter, and chat about this and that while watching the day turn to night from our patio as I had once done so readily. I am, instead, a tightly bound jumble of nervous energy missing the one tool I need to bring calm to my emotions, clarity to my thoughts and purpose to my restless hands. You would think that after seven months of cigar sobriety, I would have adjusted to my smokeless world and discovered alternatives. Well wrongo, Nicotine Nose, I haven't. It is, therefore, my intention to begin smoking anew the moment my lung replacement surgery is completed and my cough is gone. Could be any day now.

It's good to have a dream.