iQuit

iQuit (Sort Of...)

I quit smoking once with a drug called Welbutrin.

“It’s like Zyban,” the doctor informed me, “only without the designer drug price tag.” He gave me a brief history of the drug which he said was initially tested on schizophrenics.

“It didn’t help with the schizophrenic behavior, but many of the test subjects lost interest in smoking,” the doctor said while writing a prescription.

“So how should I do this?” I asked the doctor.

“Pick a quit date a few weeks from now but continue to smoke. You should feel a difference before your target date.”

“So, I can still continue to smoke?” I asked.

“Yes,” the doctor replied.

What other occupation can maintain dignity and command respect after suggesting smoking cigarettes and popping pills once given to ‘fix’ schizoids as a way to quit smoking? Answer, the same one that once said: More doctors smoke Camels than any other cigarette. Is this what they mean by ‘practicing’ medicine? I filled the Welbutrin prescription, popped the pills and smoked away.

Days later, I woke up and walked outside to have the morning cigarette, one of the best ones of the day as any puffer of butts will tell you and my personal favorite. But that day, enjoyment from my favorite cigarette was cut short. I couldn’t feel any smoke entering my lungs. I inhaled deeper, held the smoke in longer, but still felt nothing. I watched the smoke billow out of my mouth upon exhale. I knew I was puffing, but couldn’t feel it. There was no nicotine rush, no light head, no satisfaction, nothing. Topping off the disappointment, the taste of the cigarette was exceptionally foul. I crushed the butt half way through.

My quit date came and went as I continued to smoke and pop pills. Occasionally, I’d actually feel a bit of that sweet smoke upon the first inhale. But after the first puff, every puff thereafter was filled that with disappointment and foul taste. I felt betrayed by my doctor and this mind altering drug which no longer allowed me to enjoy the carefully crafted blend of poison in those fine cigarettes. I wanted to fight that little pill and give Big Pharma a piece of my mind. Unfortunately, I had swallowed the little pill and had given Big Pharma a piece of my mind.

It was a rough break up. I went a few days without a cigarette even while carrying a pack. The pack sat on the dash of my chariot as I drove around. I’d stare at it, wondering what happened to our relationship. This was not how it was supposed to end, I thought. I love you cigarettes. What happened to us? I know we can work this out.

I tossed the Welbutrin in the garbage and sure enough those feelings came back. The cigarette forgave all the philandering I had done with pills. The cigarette and I made up for lost time, re-consummating our love for one another thirty times in one day.