Chantix Day 85, Quit Day 65

I soooooo suck at math. The last time I tried to post my days, I think I had it all screwed up.

Anyway, here we are at Quit Day 65. I'm into the last pack of Chantix for this month, and soon I'll be buying another month's worth of Chantixes. Chantii. Chantices. Hmph. There is no smooth way to pluralize this drug!

That's OK, I still love it, anyway.

Today was a funny day in the quitting-smoking effort. (Funny odd, not funny ha-ha.)

An acquaintance PM'ed me to ask about my experience with Chantix. And I wrote back to her and told her my experience so far. I'm always hesitant to say I "love" it. There are people who heard nothing but lightness and roses about Chantix, and then they discovered that it didn't work for them. And that sort of thing tends to make people feel bitter. And I don't want *anyone* to feel bitter. Ever. About anything. Your hair looks fabulous. Don't look in a mirror, take my word for it, *everyone* should have purple and green streaked beehives.

Anyway, I PM'ed my friend back and told her that I've only had mild side effects. Nausea for the first few weeks, and vivid dreams. Nothing that would keep me from taking the drugs. And in the meantime, I actually quit smoking against all odds. Because I *loved* smoking. And here I am -- not smoking. Cool.

Then I went to the dentist, and I was again asked about my Chantix experience. So I had to do the same thing all over again, but out loud. I'm thinking that I should get cards printed up.

But here's the thing: I had a really bad time at the dentist's office. It's a long story, and Mama always said if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all, but I have always had bad teeth. So... there's pain, and there's blood, sweat, and tears, and then they give you a bunch of instructions on your post-op care. And the number one rule is, "Don't smoke." Apparently, smokers get dry-socket all the time. Ya don't want dry socket, from what I understand. It sounds like it hurts as much as the conditions that lead a person to go to the dentist as often as I do in the first place, and that's not any fun at all.

I left the dentist's office crying -- Wesley was there to drive me home, and Emily fixed me some sugar-free lime jello, and I had tomato soup for dinner -- and sometime after the pain meds kicked in (it still hurts, but I don't care, uh huh, uh huh) I realized, "This would all be so much worse if I had a cigarette right now."

See, every cloud has a silver lining.

I'm going to go eat some ice cream now. It's going to be much, much tastier than cigarettes ever were.