This has got to be the greyest, dreariest summer on record. Where is the sun? All the kids are getting ready to go back to school and summer hasn't even arrived yet. Today it's raining. In August. In southern California. It's muggy and heavy and wet, with a warm drizzle keeping everything moist. This is not great weather for my lungs, but they've been surprisingly good for the last week. I had a couple of bad lung days, but not as many as I would have expected, given the climatic conditions.
This morning I had to take my car to Santa Barbara Volkswagen, to have my passenger-side headlight replaced. When I bought my car I didn't realize how expensive it would be to maintain. I've owned many Bugs, all of the older variety, and they were cheap and easy to fix. I could do a lot of the work myself. Now I have a 2001 New Beetle and I can't even replace the headlight bulb myself. They have to remove the entire housing just to get to the bulb, so it costs me $45 every time a bulb goes. And then there was my $200 battery -- $150 for the actual battery and $50 for them to put it in for me. Two hundred dollars for a battery! Highway robbery! But it's a special kind of battery and that was how much it cost. Apart from the expense, though, I love my car. It's just like my old Bugs except that it's safe, quiet and comfortable, and it handles like a dream. And it's not a gross polluter. This is the first "nice" car I've ever owned, and I don't think I could go back now. I've grown used to having AC and electric windows and door locks and a sunroof and a Blaupunkt stereo. My favorite car in the whole world is the mid-seventies BMW 2002. I love those cute little boxes like nothing else and have yearned for one for at least twenty years. And now I suspect that if I got one I wouldn't like it because it isn't luxurious like my Beetle.
While I was wandering around downtown waiting for my car to be fixed, I bumped into a friend and fellow addict I haven't seen in awhile. We chatted for a bit and caught up, and then I asked her if she was planning to go to Matt's memorial a week from tomorrow. She said, "I don't go to the memorials of people who die of the disease." I was appalled and found myself arguing with her, but eventually I saw that not only was I not doing any good but I was making her angry. We simply disagree on the subject. As far as I'm concerned, blaming someone for relapsing or for dying of the disease of addiction is perilously close to taking credit for your own abstinence. It can be argued, of course, that those of us who stay clean do so because we choose to do the things that keep us clean, like go to meetings regularly and work steps and help other addicts, but underneath that is still the mystery of why we continue to be willing to do those things and others don't. I can't take credit for my own recovery. I can only be grateful that I'm still clean and still willing to do what it takes to stay clean. When someone I care about dies, I get angry at the disease, but not at the person. At the moment I'm trying to stretch my mind to see the other viewpoint. The woman I talked to today has stayed clean for eleven years. Obviously she's been doing something right, and she's not an arrogant person. I respect her opinions on other subjects. I want to be able to see other people's sides to questions. Actually, I can see her side, but I still think it's wrong. I can apply my criterion for grading an English paper: could a reasonable person hold this opinion? and answer yes to it, and I still think it's wrong. It's not an academic subject. It's literally life or death.
I thought about it on the way home and saw, suddenly, how much fear is behind my friend's opinion. When someone whose recovery seemed to be in good shape relapses after a long time clean, it's scary. It reminds us of the reality of the disease. All we can really say is, "There but for the grace of God go I." Relapse is a reality of recovery. People do it all the time and there are no guarantees, so it's natural for those of us who are still clean to want to reassure ourselves that it won't happen to us by pointing out to ourselves all of the things we do that the other person didn't do, or that the other person stopped doing. But that's just a sneaky way of taking credit for our own abstinence. It's the shortest route to ingratitude. My attitude on this is inflexible, apparently. I feel, to my core, that I'm right about it. Matt lost the willingness which had been granted to him when he got clean. He is to be mourned and pitied, not blamed and vilified.
It's now time to get ready to go to my sponsor's house for one of our infrequent gatherings of sponsees. I have no idea what to expect but usually it's a workout. Kim generally has some difficult topic or other for us to explore, and usually I'm a puddle of tears by the end of the session. Last time it was, "How do we set ourselves up to be victims?" and the time before that the topic was relationships. I don't know what it will be today, but I can almost guarantee that there will be some kind of catharsis.
I just realized that I said almost the same thing in this post that I said last week. Oh well, I suppose I just wasn't finished with that subject. Perhaps now I can lay it to rest. There wasn't much about Hep C or Interferon in this week's ramblings, but in a way that's a good thing, since it means there's nothing wrong this week.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Grace
I'm a day late. I just didn't feel like sitting in front of the computer yesterday, after the hellish week I had at work. I work for a tiny, Mom & Pop cable company, and last week we changed our entire system so that all of our customers now require digital boxes in order to get our service. One of our service areas is a retirement community, where we have somewhere between 400 and 500 elderly customers, which means that our phones have not stopped ringing since Tuesday. It was so insane that I contemplated quitting more than once. The only thing that stopped me was the thought that I would lose my health insurance if I quit. Next week will be just as bad, if not worse, but I suppose things will settle down eventually, as everybody gets used to the new boxes. But our 95 year-olds will probably always have trouble. One woman had her box installed by our technicians and it was working perfectly until she pushed the wrong button and lost the signal, whereupon she called me, crying, to ask me to send the technician back. Our technicians have been working fourteen-hour days, trying to get all the old people installed, but I sent one back over there. He fixed it for her, and then she called back a few hours later to say that she'd lost her signal again. "Why can't you put it back to the way it was before?" she wailed. "I didn't do anything to deserve this!" I really felt for her, but I couldn't spare another technician. Fortunately, this time we were able to talk her through the solution and help her get the channels back. But I know that she will be calling us every other day for the rest of her life, asking us to send a technician over to fix whatever she did wrong. And that's only one customer!
So. Anyway. Here I am, unrefreshed and unready for the work week to begin tomorrow. At least my viral load is still negative. My white count was acceptable as of my last labs, last Monday, so that's good too. The count is still low, but Judy said it's within acceptable limits for treatment. If it goes lower, I may have to go in occasionally to get a shot to stimulate white cell production. As for my hemoglobin, well, I'm slightly anemic, but Dr H seems to think that an ordinary multivitamin with iron will take care of the problem, so I started that on Tuesday. Normally I think vitamins are a waste of money and just give you really expensive pee. I can get all the nutrition I need in my food, as long as I eat well and avoid fast food and processed foods, but I recognize that my current situation isn't normal. I'd rather take an iron supplement than eat a slab of cow meat, although I will do my best to eat more tofu in the next eight months. I've discovered that Judy is a bit of an alarmist, so the next time she calls me with news of something unusual I'll reserve judgement and wait until I talk to Dr H about it. He wasn't nearly as concerned about my low red and white counts as she was.
Currently I'm serving as the secretary of the Saturday night meeting, which means that I have to arrive early to unlock the door and set up the room if it needs it. Last night I was doing just that when I got a phone call from a friend who told me that a friend of ours had died the night before. I knew before I picked up the phone that someone had died -- I've developed a sense about it, from years of practice. The man who died, my friend Matt, was an addict with a story somewhat similar to mine, only he sank even lower than I did before he got clean. The man was in a coma for six months after contracting tetanus from a dirty needle, for God's sake! And he had a head injury from falling down the stairs which caused him to be legally blind, not to mention all of the broken-off needles he had in his neck. I would have thought that if anyone had the credentials to stay clean for the rest of his life, it was Matt. But it doesn't work that way. A program of recovery is a daily thing. At about six years clean, Matt stopped going to meetings, saying they were "too negative." I tried to talk to him about it, but he was adamant. And then he married his girlfriend, a chronic relapser, and I didn't hear from him for over a year, until I got the news last night. I don't like to assume that people are using just because I don't see them or hear from them, but usually that's what they're doing, and that's what Matt was doing.
It was a blow. It always is, even when it's someone, like Matt, whom I'm not close to. We were never close friends, but I've known him for nearly thirty years. Losing him is like losing another piece of my youth. I'm tired of going to funerals. I sometimes think that the biggest difference between addicts and those so-called normal people is that the "normies" don't have to go to the funerals of young people every year. Last year I went to two funerals, one for my nephew Joel, and one for my old friend James. Both of them died of the disease of addiction, and there's at least one every year. It scares me when people stop going to meetings, and when I hear the voice of the disease in their words.
It makes me grateful, though, that I've been granted the willingness to do what it takes to stay clean a day at a time. As I said, a program of recovery is a daily thing. Every day I practice the principles of the program to the best of my ability, and I reinforce the habits I developed in my first couple of years clean. It's repetitive, and I hear many addicts say, "It's boring. It's the same thing over and over." Okay, it's the same thing over and over, but how much variety is there in the life of a using addict? I don't know about anyone else, but my life when I was using was incredibly narrow and predictable. It was like a really sick, indie version of Groundhog Day. The thing about working a program is that it goes against my natural inclination. That's why I have to exercise discipline in order to practice it, and why I need continual reminders of how bad it is out there where the using addicts are. If I veer off the path for awhile, my thinking starts to change and using doesn't seem so bad after all. That's what happens. I know, because it happened to me the first time around. It took nearly two years, but eventually I relapsed, and it was a hellish six and a half years before I was able to get clean again. That relapse nearly killed me, and I seriously doubt that I'd be able to make it back to recovery if I relapsed again.
But I can't take credit for my own recovery. There's a mystery at the heart of the twelve steps, and I like it that way. I don't want to understand everything. I don't know why I have the willingness to do what it takes to stay clean and Matt didn't. He had it for a long time -- he had seven years clean a year ago -- but somewhere along the way he lost it. As far as I'm concerned, it's grace. I was graced with desperation when I first got clean: I was desperate to get and stay clean and that made me willing to do whatever it took, no matter what. And it's grace that I continue to be willing a day at a time. I can't judge Matt for having turned his back on recovery. I didn't judge him at the time. It's cause for grief and for compassion, not for judgement. He lost the precious gift which every addict has who stays clean no matter what, the gift of willingness.
So. Anyway. Here I am, unrefreshed and unready for the work week to begin tomorrow. At least my viral load is still negative. My white count was acceptable as of my last labs, last Monday, so that's good too. The count is still low, but Judy said it's within acceptable limits for treatment. If it goes lower, I may have to go in occasionally to get a shot to stimulate white cell production. As for my hemoglobin, well, I'm slightly anemic, but Dr H seems to think that an ordinary multivitamin with iron will take care of the problem, so I started that on Tuesday. Normally I think vitamins are a waste of money and just give you really expensive pee. I can get all the nutrition I need in my food, as long as I eat well and avoid fast food and processed foods, but I recognize that my current situation isn't normal. I'd rather take an iron supplement than eat a slab of cow meat, although I will do my best to eat more tofu in the next eight months. I've discovered that Judy is a bit of an alarmist, so the next time she calls me with news of something unusual I'll reserve judgement and wait until I talk to Dr H about it. He wasn't nearly as concerned about my low red and white counts as she was.
Currently I'm serving as the secretary of the Saturday night meeting, which means that I have to arrive early to unlock the door and set up the room if it needs it. Last night I was doing just that when I got a phone call from a friend who told me that a friend of ours had died the night before. I knew before I picked up the phone that someone had died -- I've developed a sense about it, from years of practice. The man who died, my friend Matt, was an addict with a story somewhat similar to mine, only he sank even lower than I did before he got clean. The man was in a coma for six months after contracting tetanus from a dirty needle, for God's sake! And he had a head injury from falling down the stairs which caused him to be legally blind, not to mention all of the broken-off needles he had in his neck. I would have thought that if anyone had the credentials to stay clean for the rest of his life, it was Matt. But it doesn't work that way. A program of recovery is a daily thing. At about six years clean, Matt stopped going to meetings, saying they were "too negative." I tried to talk to him about it, but he was adamant. And then he married his girlfriend, a chronic relapser, and I didn't hear from him for over a year, until I got the news last night. I don't like to assume that people are using just because I don't see them or hear from them, but usually that's what they're doing, and that's what Matt was doing.
It was a blow. It always is, even when it's someone, like Matt, whom I'm not close to. We were never close friends, but I've known him for nearly thirty years. Losing him is like losing another piece of my youth. I'm tired of going to funerals. I sometimes think that the biggest difference between addicts and those so-called normal people is that the "normies" don't have to go to the funerals of young people every year. Last year I went to two funerals, one for my nephew Joel, and one for my old friend James. Both of them died of the disease of addiction, and there's at least one every year. It scares me when people stop going to meetings, and when I hear the voice of the disease in their words.
It makes me grateful, though, that I've been granted the willingness to do what it takes to stay clean a day at a time. As I said, a program of recovery is a daily thing. Every day I practice the principles of the program to the best of my ability, and I reinforce the habits I developed in my first couple of years clean. It's repetitive, and I hear many addicts say, "It's boring. It's the same thing over and over." Okay, it's the same thing over and over, but how much variety is there in the life of a using addict? I don't know about anyone else, but my life when I was using was incredibly narrow and predictable. It was like a really sick, indie version of Groundhog Day. The thing about working a program is that it goes against my natural inclination. That's why I have to exercise discipline in order to practice it, and why I need continual reminders of how bad it is out there where the using addicts are. If I veer off the path for awhile, my thinking starts to change and using doesn't seem so bad after all. That's what happens. I know, because it happened to me the first time around. It took nearly two years, but eventually I relapsed, and it was a hellish six and a half years before I was able to get clean again. That relapse nearly killed me, and I seriously doubt that I'd be able to make it back to recovery if I relapsed again.
But I can't take credit for my own recovery. There's a mystery at the heart of the twelve steps, and I like it that way. I don't want to understand everything. I don't know why I have the willingness to do what it takes to stay clean and Matt didn't. He had it for a long time -- he had seven years clean a year ago -- but somewhere along the way he lost it. As far as I'm concerned, it's grace. I was graced with desperation when I first got clean: I was desperate to get and stay clean and that made me willing to do whatever it took, no matter what. And it's grace that I continue to be willing a day at a time. I can't judge Matt for having turned his back on recovery. I didn't judge him at the time. It's cause for grief and for compassion, not for judgement. He lost the precious gift which every addict has who stays clean no matter what, the gift of willingness.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
What?
I've discovered that my mood is very much dependent on my ability to breathe. When I can breathe just fine, I feel great and life seems like a good thing, but the moment the breathlessness hits I turn into Sad Sack and all I want is to go to bed and pull the covers over my head. Not being able to breathe makes everything harder, and things were hard enough before, thank you very much.
My lab results this week were dismal. I still have no viral load, but my white and my red blood cell counts are down. I'm not quite anemic yet, but I was only half a point away from it on Monday, which may explain the recent breathlessness during dry sunny weather. Judy was concerned enough that she's having me go back in for another blood draw on Monday. If the counts continue to drop we may have to lower my dosage, which would not be a good thing, considering how stubborn my particular virus is. I had a fever last night, which made me wonder if I had a sinus infection. I've got pain behind my eyes and in my forehead, and I feel pressure in my sinuses, although they don't seem to want to drain. The fever began in the afternoon at work: I noticed that I was shivering even though the temperature in the office was at least 75 degrees. I thought it might be from anemia, but by the time I got home I was feeling feverish and chilled. My temperature was 100, which isn't cause for concern. I decided that if I was much worse today I would call Judy and see if I should go to the Urgent Care. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't think twice about it, but with a low white count I think it might be wise to err on the side of caution.
I so rarely get sick that I'm a big baby when it happens. I want my mommy. Last night I lay in bed and tried to remember the last time I had a fever. I couldn't recall. About a year and a half ago I had a head cold, and about two years before that I had a head cold. Beyond that I can't remember. So I decided that maybe it was just my turn. I spent the entire night shivering and sweating and tossing and turning, so that when I woke up this morning I found a bird's nest of hair on the back of my head. But also, when I woke up this morning the fever was gone, so perhaps it was just a phantom fever which made an appearance for one night.
One last topic and then I'm finished. I feel vindicated in my assessment of the cause of my increasing deafness. It's the TMJ disorder. I was diagnosed with it after I was treated for the Graves' Disease, the hyperthyroidism being what caused the TMJ disorder in the first place. Hyperthyroidism made me clench my jaw and grind my teeth for years before I knew what was wrong with me, but now the hyperthyroidism is gone but I'm stuck with the TMJ disorder. I don't have jaw pain, thank God, but I have a lot of swelling and tension in the muscles of my face, my head, my neck and particularly my jaw. Possibly that's why I have the hamster effect so noticeably. Anyway, I kept telling my doctors that I was sure my eustachian tubes were being blocked by swelling in my neck and jaw. I could feel the swelling and the pressure, and it would explain the fluctuations in my hearing, not to mention all of the crackling and popping going on in there. They all just patted me on the head and said, "Whatever you say, dear," without really listening.
The last few weeks my deafness has increased to the point where people are getting sick of hearing me say "what?" all the time. Last Sunday I tried to watch a movie, but I had to turn it off because I couldn't hear it, even with the volume all the way up. I turned off the TV and bawled for about an hour, grieving the loss of my once-perfect hearing. I'd noticed, though, that some days I could hear pretty well and other days I could hardly hear anything, which made me wonder just how much actual, irreversible hearing loss I have. I googled "TMJ hearing loss tinnitus" and found message board after message board written by people who have all of the same symptoms I have, all of whom have TMJ disorder. Many of them said the same things I've been saying about the swelling blocking their tubes. They talked about their tubes feeling "clogged," which is exactly what it feels like to me. Reading those posts made me feel less crazy, and I got some useful tips. They all said not to bother seeing an Ear Nose and Throat doctor because they're worthless for anything having to do with TMJ. I have to see a TMJ specialist. Normally those are dentists, but I'm hoping my medical insurance will cover it since it's an effect of the Graves' Disease. Anyway, I'm hoping I can find a way to reduce the tinnitus and increase my hearing without having to resort to hearing aids.
I have two doctor's appointments on Monday, one with Dr W, the endocrinologist, and one with Dr H. I'm hoping I can get Dr W to listen to me about the TMJ disease and either refer me to a TMJ specialist or ask Dr G to write a referral. We shall see.
Here's to better days, better breathing, better hearing.
My lab results this week were dismal. I still have no viral load, but my white and my red blood cell counts are down. I'm not quite anemic yet, but I was only half a point away from it on Monday, which may explain the recent breathlessness during dry sunny weather. Judy was concerned enough that she's having me go back in for another blood draw on Monday. If the counts continue to drop we may have to lower my dosage, which would not be a good thing, considering how stubborn my particular virus is. I had a fever last night, which made me wonder if I had a sinus infection. I've got pain behind my eyes and in my forehead, and I feel pressure in my sinuses, although they don't seem to want to drain. The fever began in the afternoon at work: I noticed that I was shivering even though the temperature in the office was at least 75 degrees. I thought it might be from anemia, but by the time I got home I was feeling feverish and chilled. My temperature was 100, which isn't cause for concern. I decided that if I was much worse today I would call Judy and see if I should go to the Urgent Care. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't think twice about it, but with a low white count I think it might be wise to err on the side of caution.
I so rarely get sick that I'm a big baby when it happens. I want my mommy. Last night I lay in bed and tried to remember the last time I had a fever. I couldn't recall. About a year and a half ago I had a head cold, and about two years before that I had a head cold. Beyond that I can't remember. So I decided that maybe it was just my turn. I spent the entire night shivering and sweating and tossing and turning, so that when I woke up this morning I found a bird's nest of hair on the back of my head. But also, when I woke up this morning the fever was gone, so perhaps it was just a phantom fever which made an appearance for one night.
One last topic and then I'm finished. I feel vindicated in my assessment of the cause of my increasing deafness. It's the TMJ disorder. I was diagnosed with it after I was treated for the Graves' Disease, the hyperthyroidism being what caused the TMJ disorder in the first place. Hyperthyroidism made me clench my jaw and grind my teeth for years before I knew what was wrong with me, but now the hyperthyroidism is gone but I'm stuck with the TMJ disorder. I don't have jaw pain, thank God, but I have a lot of swelling and tension in the muscles of my face, my head, my neck and particularly my jaw. Possibly that's why I have the hamster effect so noticeably. Anyway, I kept telling my doctors that I was sure my eustachian tubes were being blocked by swelling in my neck and jaw. I could feel the swelling and the pressure, and it would explain the fluctuations in my hearing, not to mention all of the crackling and popping going on in there. They all just patted me on the head and said, "Whatever you say, dear," without really listening.
The last few weeks my deafness has increased to the point where people are getting sick of hearing me say "what?" all the time. Last Sunday I tried to watch a movie, but I had to turn it off because I couldn't hear it, even with the volume all the way up. I turned off the TV and bawled for about an hour, grieving the loss of my once-perfect hearing. I'd noticed, though, that some days I could hear pretty well and other days I could hardly hear anything, which made me wonder just how much actual, irreversible hearing loss I have. I googled "TMJ hearing loss tinnitus" and found message board after message board written by people who have all of the same symptoms I have, all of whom have TMJ disorder. Many of them said the same things I've been saying about the swelling blocking their tubes. They talked about their tubes feeling "clogged," which is exactly what it feels like to me. Reading those posts made me feel less crazy, and I got some useful tips. They all said not to bother seeing an Ear Nose and Throat doctor because they're worthless for anything having to do with TMJ. I have to see a TMJ specialist. Normally those are dentists, but I'm hoping my medical insurance will cover it since it's an effect of the Graves' Disease. Anyway, I'm hoping I can find a way to reduce the tinnitus and increase my hearing without having to resort to hearing aids.
I have two doctor's appointments on Monday, one with Dr W, the endocrinologist, and one with Dr H. I'm hoping I can get Dr W to listen to me about the TMJ disease and either refer me to a TMJ specialist or ask Dr G to write a referral. We shall see.
Here's to better days, better breathing, better hearing.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Surviving bad lung days
I'm a bit late with the blog this week. Usually I write in the morning, but today I had things to do, and now it's the afternoon. I'm sleepy because I just spent three hours in the sun -- or, rather, in the grey haze which passed for sun at the beach earlier today. I went to a barbecue put on by Narcotics Anonymous, having decided this morning that it might be fun. And so it was. I wore my pretty floral sundress from Anthropologie with my new cowboy boots and felt very festive and summery, carrying my Japanese parasol to protect my pallor from the sneakiness of the sun. An overcast day is always the worst day for sunburn because it doesn't feel hot, so you can't tell you're fried until it's too late. The sun made an appearance about twenty minutes before I left, but the whole thing was pretty much over by then.
And now here I am. I had two bad lung days this week, and I've come to see that quitting smoking had absolutely nothing to do with the improvement in my breathing in recent weeks. What did the trick was the weather. We had a couple of weeks of dry sunshine, and my lungs cleared right up, but then the fog rolled in on Thursday morning and I had two days of severe breathlessness and anxiety. It's better now because the marine layer isn't as thick and has burned off earlier in the day, but it sure would be nice if we could have a summer. Every year we have "June Gloom," a month of grey and overcast days which generally clear up by the Fourth of July. This year we've had "May, June and July Gloom," with a day or two of sunshine here and there, or even a week or two upon occasion. It's now August. It's time for us to have a month or two of that famous California sunshine. If I have to make it through the rainy season this winter dealing with breathlessness and anxiety, I'd really like to have a few months of dry weather and good breathing beforehand. Not that we've had much rain in the last few years, but the drought has to end at some point.
I talked to Judy about it on Friday, saying I don't know if I'm going to make it if I have to deal with that much breathlessness on a weekly basis, and she suggested that I try drinking peppermint tea in the morning. Ick. I like peppermint tea, but not in the morning. I like coffee in the morning. Well, decaf, anyway. I love coffee. Some nights I lie in bed before I fall asleep and think happily about the coffee I'm going to drink when I wake up. I'm drinking coffee right now, in fact. For some reason I always crave coffee after a daytime party, so I came home and made a pot, which I'm sipping now as I write. So probably I won't be drinking peppermint tea in the morning. I'll buy some and try it and if it does wonders, I may change my mind, but I suspect that it won't have enough of an effect to make the taste of peppermint acceptable in the morning. Judy seems to think that an inhaler is too drastic a solution, which puzzles me. People get inhalers when they have a little cough. What's so drastic about them? I've never used one because I've never had any problems with my lungs. I've never had asthma or bronchitis, and I can't remember the last time I had a cough. I don't understand why getting an inhaler would be such a big deal, especially since I would only need it occasionally, but maybe Judy knows something I don't.
I was surprised by how easy it was not to smoke at the barbecue today. I was a bit concerned about it because it was the first time since I quit that I would be faced with smokers en masse, and I didn't know how I would react. I didn't react at all. I hardly even noticed the cigarettes. I don't think it would be a good idea to spend a lot of time around smokers, but I'm glad to know that I can go to an NA function and not mind the smoking. None of my friends smokes anymore, and for a long time I felt like a bit of a pariah because I was the last smoker in my social circle, but now I'm grateful that I don't have to be faced with other people's cigarettes very often. Much as I would like to think I'm immune to it, other people's behavior influences me. When I spend time with smokers, I want to smoke. That's why I don't spend time with people who use drugs.
Okay, it's time to get busy writing on step six. I did my fifth step with my sponsor nearly three weeks ago, and I only began writing on step six last weekend. I needed to take a break in between to process steps four and five, but now I want to get moving with steps six and seven. These are my favorite steps because these are when the rewards start coming, when all of that brutal self-examination and self-appraisal pays off. I want to be relieved of the defects of character which are standing between me and other human beings, and my fourth step gave me a pretty clear picture of where the problems lie. Now it's just a matter of becoming entirely ready to have my higher power remove those defects of character, and of humbly asking to have my shortcomings removed. One thing at a time, though, and what I'm doing now is writing in detail about the defects.
And here's to another week's passing. Only 35 to go.
And now here I am. I had two bad lung days this week, and I've come to see that quitting smoking had absolutely nothing to do with the improvement in my breathing in recent weeks. What did the trick was the weather. We had a couple of weeks of dry sunshine, and my lungs cleared right up, but then the fog rolled in on Thursday morning and I had two days of severe breathlessness and anxiety. It's better now because the marine layer isn't as thick and has burned off earlier in the day, but it sure would be nice if we could have a summer. Every year we have "June Gloom," a month of grey and overcast days which generally clear up by the Fourth of July. This year we've had "May, June and July Gloom," with a day or two of sunshine here and there, or even a week or two upon occasion. It's now August. It's time for us to have a month or two of that famous California sunshine. If I have to make it through the rainy season this winter dealing with breathlessness and anxiety, I'd really like to have a few months of dry weather and good breathing beforehand. Not that we've had much rain in the last few years, but the drought has to end at some point.
I talked to Judy about it on Friday, saying I don't know if I'm going to make it if I have to deal with that much breathlessness on a weekly basis, and she suggested that I try drinking peppermint tea in the morning. Ick. I like peppermint tea, but not in the morning. I like coffee in the morning. Well, decaf, anyway. I love coffee. Some nights I lie in bed before I fall asleep and think happily about the coffee I'm going to drink when I wake up. I'm drinking coffee right now, in fact. For some reason I always crave coffee after a daytime party, so I came home and made a pot, which I'm sipping now as I write. So probably I won't be drinking peppermint tea in the morning. I'll buy some and try it and if it does wonders, I may change my mind, but I suspect that it won't have enough of an effect to make the taste of peppermint acceptable in the morning. Judy seems to think that an inhaler is too drastic a solution, which puzzles me. People get inhalers when they have a little cough. What's so drastic about them? I've never used one because I've never had any problems with my lungs. I've never had asthma or bronchitis, and I can't remember the last time I had a cough. I don't understand why getting an inhaler would be such a big deal, especially since I would only need it occasionally, but maybe Judy knows something I don't.
I was surprised by how easy it was not to smoke at the barbecue today. I was a bit concerned about it because it was the first time since I quit that I would be faced with smokers en masse, and I didn't know how I would react. I didn't react at all. I hardly even noticed the cigarettes. I don't think it would be a good idea to spend a lot of time around smokers, but I'm glad to know that I can go to an NA function and not mind the smoking. None of my friends smokes anymore, and for a long time I felt like a bit of a pariah because I was the last smoker in my social circle, but now I'm grateful that I don't have to be faced with other people's cigarettes very often. Much as I would like to think I'm immune to it, other people's behavior influences me. When I spend time with smokers, I want to smoke. That's why I don't spend time with people who use drugs.
Okay, it's time to get busy writing on step six. I did my fifth step with my sponsor nearly three weeks ago, and I only began writing on step six last weekend. I needed to take a break in between to process steps four and five, but now I want to get moving with steps six and seven. These are my favorite steps because these are when the rewards start coming, when all of that brutal self-examination and self-appraisal pays off. I want to be relieved of the defects of character which are standing between me and other human beings, and my fourth step gave me a pretty clear picture of where the problems lie. Now it's just a matter of becoming entirely ready to have my higher power remove those defects of character, and of humbly asking to have my shortcomings removed. One thing at a time, though, and what I'm doing now is writing in detail about the defects.
And here's to another week's passing. Only 35 to go.
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