My doctor gave me a month to get my blood pressure down.
She asked me to lose 5 pounds and go on a low-sodium diet.
I’ve lost 4.2 pounds and I cut salt from my diet, but my blood pressure is still high.
And the reason it’s high is because I’m smoking.
It’s amazing and embarrassing to admit that I smoke, in 2020. I don’t know anyone who smokes, and I keep it secret from all of my friends.
I only started up again about a year ago, after having quit for 11 years.
About 4 months ago, I made several concerted efforts to stop, but the feeling was too overwhelming.
When I research the process of quitting smoking, I see people—mainly health professionals—describe quitting as “extremely difficult,” which it is, but I don’t see many realistic or nuanced descriptions of what quitting feels like for me, and I wonder if it feels similarly for everyone.
Quitting smoking is painful. It’s physically painful and emotionally painful.
I don’t know if the pain I experience when I try to quit is more pronounced because of the way Fibromyalgia seems to make all pain more pronounced, but the sensation is flu-like for me.
If it was just flu-like, I could handle it, but for some reason, when I feel that wave of physical and psychological pain, I start to panic, and my cognition and anxiety really spirals downward.
I often get into the totally baffling headspace where I start to think that I’m putting myself in danger by NOT smoking, because the physical discomfort becomes so distressing.
I typically make it about 4 hours when I try to quit, although I can go 12-16 hours without smoking if I’m not under pressure to abstain.
Since my high blood pressure and high heart rate are actually serious, I am going to need to fess up to my doctor at my appointment in 4 days, and I know the chain of events that are going to unfold from there.
She’s going to insist I stop, of course. It’s going to be serious.
And since I trust her and we work well together, I’m going to have to do it.
Maybe she’ll prescribe Chantix or something, and maybe those will help.
I could say what I’m “supposed” to say and be like: well, this is so positive!! I’ll have motivation to add one more productive dimension to my body journey towards health, and I’m already proving to myself that I’m more than strong enough to do this.
These are true, but I’m not giving these Shaq x JCPenney vibes at all.
I feel out of control because I’m about to be held accountable for something I’m genuinely not sure I can do, even though I’ve done it before in the past.
I’m scared that I’m going to lose my grip on myself and feel sick and tired and crazy for a few weeks.
One completely amazing level, I have to admit, is that I’ve come to a level of maturity where I can see that I must face facts and be honest with my doctor. I’m pretty impressed with myself that I’m not even calling to put the appointment off for a few weeks.
I’m not a happy camper today, but my little chihuahua just crawled into my lap as I’m writing this, and maybe if I can’t motivate myself to feel good about doing it for myself at this point, I could do it for the little guy. He’s only 2, and chihuahuas live a million years, so he needs me around.