Tomorrow is my 14th day of not smoking. The past two days have been a little difficult. I find myself wondering where my cigarettes are. My fingers feel empty, vacant, devoid of their beloved cylindrical darlings. My mind has started to play tricks on me. "Hey, psst," it whispers. "You forgot to buy cigarettes. Better go correct that -- NOW."
The literature assures me I have long since passed the physical withdrawal period and am now into psychological warfare. Go figure. I can attest that this is, indeed, tricky stuff. I expected too much too soon. I take a bunch of meds for my COPD and stupidly assumed I could stop taking these meds or at the very least, wouldn't require them as much. Not so much, not yet anyway. I did notice today that I could inhale much more deeply when I took my Advair. That made me happy.
The Surgeon General's 1990 report says that 1-9 months after cessation, the lung's cilia start functioning again. Unfortunately, my COPD specialist tells me this ain't so. Not only that, but the cilia in my nose won't ever work again either. But my circulation is supposedly already improved after 13 days of not smoking. And my lung function is supposed to be improving daily. I had it tested earlier this week, or maybe it was last week -- I can't remember. Regardless of when it was, my lung function had not improved whatsoever. My capacity was somewhere under two liters (1.8) with normal for someone my age/size/gender being about 4.2. So, you can see that I function with somewhat less than half my potential lung capacity.
If I'm lucky, my lung capacity will improve. If I'm really lucky, it could return to near normal. Here's hoping. Breathing. It's a good thing.