It is my second smoke-free anniversary. I can't take credit quite yet because I was in medically-induced coma for five days and then had other discomforts that distracted my attention from nicotine withdrawal. Helluva way to quit, but it worked. I rejected the Chantrix that was thrust upon me quite strongly in hospital, because the potential side effects worried me even in my stressed sit. I was surprised when my cardiologist agreed upon later in-hospital consult, said "you don't need that" and endorsed my rejection of that hospital-enouraged course of treatment. We got that call right. That cardiologist read me five by nine. I kicked cold turkey, he somehow knew I could and would do that. Right on, Dr. Bankwala!
They say the urge to smoke disappears after 12 years or so. I think I'd enjoy a smoke right now but I can't do that anymore if I care to live a while longer.
Most heart attack survivors proclaim resolve to do what they must to survive longer, but surprisingly few retain that resolve for more than a few months.
I'm still walkin' my 3 miles every day. I prefer walking outdoors whenever possible. It was possible today, though I did get rained on a bit. The spring rain smelled wonderful and I had me Gore-tex jacket over tee-shirt so I was comfy with light rain, light wind, temp 59. Being cold and wet purely beats the hell out of being dead.
Mary isn't yet up to full speed but she's getting stronger every day. She's already out helping others. She's incorrigible.