Hey all,
Got some news in from the Michigan Department of Natural Resources today. It seems that CDW (Chronic Wasting Disease) has been confirmed in two wild deer on a gaming ranch in the souther peninsula of Michigan.
I have been keeping an eye on the news about hunting lately as it seems the state is determined to end all hunting, drive the deer herd numbers to incredible heights by doubling the price of a hunting license, adding a gun hunt to the list of seasons, and now eliminating all baiting for deer in the lower peninsula.
I am in just about the lowest county in the state, save one. The CDW was found several miles north of me, and now my hunt will be severely crippled by this latest ban imposed by the DNR. The first sign that the DNR was suffering was when the state closed several checkpoints. We had one in Jackson for several years, until about 15 years ago. The checkpoints were a place to take your game in to have it checked for any serious diseases as well as to get a patch. My dad had several of these patches sewed onto his hunters orange vest, dating back into the mid-70's. As I did not get my first deer until 2000, and the DNR checkpoint had long been removed from the county, I have never received a patch. I have done my part though, by successfully tagging eight of these majestic creatures to fill the freezer and feed my family.
The next sign came in last year where it was announced that the cost for a combination license was going to increase by double. Where does this line of thinking come in to play? This dramatic price increase will result in two endings: 1) Only the employed, die-hard hunter will pay the price to keep hunting, and 2) there will be an increase of poaching and unlicensed attempts at getting the meat to put on the table. With Michigan being the hardest hit state, in the union, with the recession, and the unemployment rate tickling the 9% region, it's really not that hard to imagine how many unlicensed hunters will be taking to the fields this year.
Everyone is used to rising costs as of late, but usually they are gradual and easy to adjust to. This one is not. It takes a serious consideration and decision as to what is highest on your priority list and how to get around the laws in place to get what is needed to survive. Venison is counted on as a primary source of food in a lot of homes around the state.
It was announced that the DNR was adding another gun season to the roster of seasons available to just about every kind of hunter out there. The typical seasons start with the bow and arrow season, which is placed prior to the rut. The season goes into the rut, beginning on Oct. 1, and ending on Nov. 14. Late in the rut, gun season kicks in (Nov. 15 - Nov. 30). It only lasts 15 days, but the movement by the deer is high as this is the season that most of the hunters take to the field. After the gun season is finished, bow season resumes and doesn't end until Jan. 1.
During the bow season, there is a muzzle-loader season and a late firearm season for doe only. It seems that this year, the DNR is adding a doe only gun season prior to the regularly scheduled bow season. It is known by every hunter that as soon as the deer realize they are being hunted with firearms (not hard to realize since guns make a lot of noise), they escape from their daily lives to properties they know to be safe. In my case, that means they retreat to some prison property, not to be seen again until the following year. with this season in place, the deer will conduct their rutting season off property, in the safety of their new homes.
The latest action posed by the DNR has limited our way of patterning the deer herd for a successful hunting season. Baiting has been changed throughout the years. I remember going out with my dad and dumping hundreds of pounds of bait all over the place, thus changing the directional patterns of the herd to come near to where we are positioned to get off a successful shot. In the past few years though, baiting has been restricted to so many pounds spread over so many feet, in a sparingly pattern. The deer still changed their patterns, and I was still able to put meat on the table.
Ok, a lot of non-hunters would lobby to say that a good hunter should be able to take the game without the use of bait, and they would be right. I can clean the glass on my car with the use of windshield wipers alone too, but the blue water that shoots out of the car sure does help in making it successful. Call it a luxury that we all got used to, and use effectively. Guess I will have to rely on the scent packs I have until they ban those to, as the deer develop ultra sensory issues with their sinuses in accordance to the rocks floating around Saturn.
I understand the problems with CWD, but a ban state-wide (erm, I mean in just the entire lower peninsula) is plain mad. Another aspect of this complaint could be coming from the local farmer that is now up a creek as his Fall and Winter income has been banned throughout the LP of the state. But I will let them rant on that one.
Take care,
Dave
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Memories
I was engaged in a conversation via email, earlier today, about the way I write. Many people have asked why I don't write professionally or even attempt to write a book. I just don't see how I could. When I write, most of what I type out or put on paper is my current thought, or something that reminded me of a topic that interested me.
The latest conversation had to do with several memories, each spawned by one person. As it is known, this month is August. It's a normal month, happens every year, and comes into play between July and September every year. It has thirty-one days, as usual.
It is, in August, that my thoughts tend to wander into the past, prior to 2003. Although one person has influenced these day dreams of memories, there are always triggers that make the mind think of this one person. In August, on the first weekend, the American Cancer Society runs an event, in the community, that is a main fundraiser for a cause. The cause is contained in the name of the organization. It's a cause that I hate, even though it demands respect.
Cancer is a known factor in my family. My great grandpa had lung cancer. My grandpa had esophageal cancer, and the one person that I think most about is my Dad. He passed away, on August 23, 2003. Brain cancer was diagnosed in April of 2003. It was a gioblastoma phase IV. It was located in a part of his brain that was inoperable. He was given 4-6 months. He fought for four and a half months.
Options were presented to him and the family. The usual radiation and chemotherapy was an option. Then there were the "experimental" drugs and therapies. (Here's a little history) When my grandpa was diagnosed, he refused any treatment, and decided to just let the cancer take over his body and eventually, kill him. It upset me that he didn't want to fight to remain with his family. A few months of fighting would have impressed me at the time. I felt he was being selfish. Within three months, my grandpa was gone, and we braced and mended our broken hearts and moved on.
My dad knew how much it tore at the family that grandpa didn't choose to fight. I believe it hurt him too. He hid his emotions from us, his sons, very effectively. He poured his heart out to his wife though. It was good to see his strength in this time of grief. I'm happy he had his wife, my mom, to confide in and help him thru that time.
When Dad's time came, it didn't take him long to choose to fight. I'm so proud of my Dad. He understood the risks with the "experimental" drug path he chose, as well as the chemo and radiation.
The chemo made him tired and weak. He was wasted after an afternoon of popping the pills associated with the chemotherapy. Then came the radiation. Several trips were made to Ann Arbor, MI to have it administered. All the time, his wife was by his side, supporting his every visit. I'll never forget the day that Dad's hair began falling out. That was the first time I had seen him cry. I tried my best to comfort him; something he used to do for me when I was hurt. I encouraged him to "chin up" and move on. He would be back out on the golf course before he knew it and this was a small price to pay.
Then came the rigors of the "experimental medications" and therapies. At first everything was great. He felt more strength and felt he could do more. That did not last long though. Eventually, Mom had to get a hospital bed put in the house. The family and neighbors worked long hours, one weekend, to install a ramp for his wheel chair.
Of course, there were days that he felt strong, and some days where he spent a lot of time sleeping. He fought though. There was one day, in particular, that I remember well. He sent Mom and my brother, sbostedor, into the hall. He told me he was tired of fighting. As much as I didn't want to hear him say those words, I knew it was coming. He had gone through more than I think I could possibly handle. Kidney problems, swelling, weakness, tiredness, being bed-ridden, confined to a wheel-chair, falling without notice, and the final straw... The "experimental" drugs he was taking had eaten thru the walls and linings of his intestines. This happened at home.
I was out riding my bike, with a trailer containing my one year old son. I was about a mile from the hospital when I got the call. Dad was being prepped for a rushed ride to the hospital for emergency surgery and things didn't look well. The ambulance was picking him up as I talked to my Mom. As carefully and quickly as I could, I beat the ambulance to the hospital.
Dad passed away a few weeks after he was operated on. I was in the room when he took his last breath.
As difficult as it is to type this out, THIS is what has been on my mind the past few weeks. He was my Dad, my mentor, my comforter, my leaning post. He was my hunting partner, fishing partner, and friend. Of all these parts of my life that he has filled, in the past, he remains my hero. His life reflects in me and always will. He lives on, thru me. The memories I share are his continuance in this world, for those that knew him, and for those that did not.
As I dry the tears, keeping the memory page open, I promise to continue creating memories with my son so that in the years after I am gone, I too can actually live on, not in body, but thru my son. My Dad has shown me the importance in doing this.
How will I be remembered? Not even close to how I remember my Dad, but it is a goal.
On a side note, when it's my turn to pass on (if I have a warning), I don't know what I'll do. I have watched my Grandpa not fight, suffer and die within a few months. On the other hand, I watched my Dad fight, suffer and die within the same amount of time. It all comes down to who suffered less in a specific amount of time. I saw no difference, except the extreme feeling of pride while watching my Dad give that ole cancer a run for it's money, although it came at the greatest price, his life.
I have better, more pleasant memories of my Dad, but these are the ones weighing heavy on my mind at this very moment. Writing them out has been helpful.
I love and miss you, Dad!!
The latest conversation had to do with several memories, each spawned by one person. As it is known, this month is August. It's a normal month, happens every year, and comes into play between July and September every year. It has thirty-one days, as usual.
It is, in August, that my thoughts tend to wander into the past, prior to 2003. Although one person has influenced these day dreams of memories, there are always triggers that make the mind think of this one person. In August, on the first weekend, the American Cancer Society runs an event, in the community, that is a main fundraiser for a cause. The cause is contained in the name of the organization. It's a cause that I hate, even though it demands respect.
Cancer is a known factor in my family. My great grandpa had lung cancer. My grandpa had esophageal cancer, and the one person that I think most about is my Dad. He passed away, on August 23, 2003. Brain cancer was diagnosed in April of 2003. It was a gioblastoma phase IV. It was located in a part of his brain that was inoperable. He was given 4-6 months. He fought for four and a half months.
Options were presented to him and the family. The usual radiation and chemotherapy was an option. Then there were the "experimental" drugs and therapies. (Here's a little history) When my grandpa was diagnosed, he refused any treatment, and decided to just let the cancer take over his body and eventually, kill him. It upset me that he didn't want to fight to remain with his family. A few months of fighting would have impressed me at the time. I felt he was being selfish. Within three months, my grandpa was gone, and we braced and mended our broken hearts and moved on.
My dad knew how much it tore at the family that grandpa didn't choose to fight. I believe it hurt him too. He hid his emotions from us, his sons, very effectively. He poured his heart out to his wife though. It was good to see his strength in this time of grief. I'm happy he had his wife, my mom, to confide in and help him thru that time.
When Dad's time came, it didn't take him long to choose to fight. I'm so proud of my Dad. He understood the risks with the "experimental" drug path he chose, as well as the chemo and radiation.
The chemo made him tired and weak. He was wasted after an afternoon of popping the pills associated with the chemotherapy. Then came the radiation. Several trips were made to Ann Arbor, MI to have it administered. All the time, his wife was by his side, supporting his every visit. I'll never forget the day that Dad's hair began falling out. That was the first time I had seen him cry. I tried my best to comfort him; something he used to do for me when I was hurt. I encouraged him to "chin up" and move on. He would be back out on the golf course before he knew it and this was a small price to pay.
Then came the rigors of the "experimental medications" and therapies. At first everything was great. He felt more strength and felt he could do more. That did not last long though. Eventually, Mom had to get a hospital bed put in the house. The family and neighbors worked long hours, one weekend, to install a ramp for his wheel chair.
Of course, there were days that he felt strong, and some days where he spent a lot of time sleeping. He fought though. There was one day, in particular, that I remember well. He sent Mom and my brother, sbostedor, into the hall. He told me he was tired of fighting. As much as I didn't want to hear him say those words, I knew it was coming. He had gone through more than I think I could possibly handle. Kidney problems, swelling, weakness, tiredness, being bed-ridden, confined to a wheel-chair, falling without notice, and the final straw... The "experimental" drugs he was taking had eaten thru the walls and linings of his intestines. This happened at home.
I was out riding my bike, with a trailer containing my one year old son. I was about a mile from the hospital when I got the call. Dad was being prepped for a rushed ride to the hospital for emergency surgery and things didn't look well. The ambulance was picking him up as I talked to my Mom. As carefully and quickly as I could, I beat the ambulance to the hospital.
Dad passed away a few weeks after he was operated on. I was in the room when he took his last breath.
As difficult as it is to type this out, THIS is what has been on my mind the past few weeks. He was my Dad, my mentor, my comforter, my leaning post. He was my hunting partner, fishing partner, and friend. Of all these parts of my life that he has filled, in the past, he remains my hero. His life reflects in me and always will. He lives on, thru me. The memories I share are his continuance in this world, for those that knew him, and for those that did not.
As I dry the tears, keeping the memory page open, I promise to continue creating memories with my son so that in the years after I am gone, I too can actually live on, not in body, but thru my son. My Dad has shown me the importance in doing this.
How will I be remembered? Not even close to how I remember my Dad, but it is a goal.
On a side note, when it's my turn to pass on (if I have a warning), I don't know what I'll do. I have watched my Grandpa not fight, suffer and die within a few months. On the other hand, I watched my Dad fight, suffer and die within the same amount of time. It all comes down to who suffered less in a specific amount of time. I saw no difference, except the extreme feeling of pride while watching my Dad give that ole cancer a run for it's money, although it came at the greatest price, his life.
I have better, more pleasant memories of my Dad, but these are the ones weighing heavy on my mind at this very moment. Writing them out has been helpful.
I love and miss you, Dad!!
Monday, August 4, 2008
Bike versus Curb
Hey! To everyone that rides a bike:
If you plan on riding, remember to keep yourself safe.
I was a the American Cancer Society Relay for Life, in Jackson, MI, this past Friday night. The ACS raises funds by conducting several events throughout the state and nation to help aid in the fight against cancer. This particular event is a 24-hour "walk-a-thon" where sponsors pay for their teams to walk a track for 24-hours straight. Several teams come in and display their support by not only walking, but by putting on their own backdrops to a predetermined theme. It's a great time, showing support for an evil and deadly illness. Since my dad passed away with brain cancer, my grandpa with esophogeal cancer, and my grandma, with brain cancer, one can only imagine what I would do to not have to encounter it again.
I have quit smoking, started getting back in shape, and start eating better. Part of getting back in shape has been riding my bicycle several miles a day. Well, I rode my bike to the ACS Relay for Life, and was there well into the night. At around 11:30 PM, I decided it was time to go home. A couple of people offered me a ride, but because I had a flashlight bungee strapped to my handlebars, I assured them that I would be alright.
All too quickly, it was evident that the flashlight was not going to be of any help at seeing the road in front of me. At one particular turn in the sidewalk, there was a section of concrete lifted high enough to have caused damage to my rim. I swerved off the sidewalk to go around it, only to learn, the hard way, that there was a hole in the ground. As my back tire lifted off the ground, I tensed up my body for the imminent crash. My front wheel finally climbed the side of the hole, and I was able to ride on shaking a bit, but all was well. I reminded myself that I would have to check that hole out the next day when I would come back to participate in the Relay some more.
The road was definitely blacked out to what I could physically see. I was dodging shadows on the ground, thinking they were pot holes. I quickly cranked the gears until I was pedaling as fast as I could in 12th gear. The amount of speed I can build in that gear is around 15-25 mph, depending on the grade and condition of the road. I'm guessing I was moving at about 15 - 20 mph, when I noticed the sidewalk was ending up ahead.
I veered into the road, after ensuring there wasn't any traffic. I rode along, in the road, for two blocks, when I noticed that the sidewalk had reappeared in the next block ahead. I waited until the next road, then steered my way in line with the center of the sidewalk. I was still travelling at the 15 - 20 mph when at the very last second, I noticed the end of the sidewalk didn't have a ramp to lead into it, but rather a curb.
There was little time to react, and as I started to pull the front wheel up, it wasn't in time. The front wheel struck the curb squarely, stopping the bike instantly. Unfortunately, it did not stop me though. I felt the back wheel come off the ground. My feet were already elevated from the pedals. I braced for impact, and knew this was going to hurt. I flipped one and a half times in the air, but was finally struck to the ground by my bike and my backpack. Upon landing, The bike landed on top of me, and my backpack hit me in the head. The backpack had a camera, some tools in case my bike broke down (wrenches, pliers, screwdriver, and allen wrenches), an mp3 player, my identification and insurance cards in it.
I laid on the sidewalk, moving various joints to make sure I was ok to sit up and eventually stand. The pain was setting in, as I realized where I was and the ticking noise of my back wheel made me know it was still on top of me. I pushed the bike off to the side, and sat up quickly. There was a car next to me, at a stop sign. They drove off and I know they were laughing. I finally made an effort to stand, and get my bike up. I brushed the little rocks off of my left arm and left leg, then proceeded to walk a few feet. I noticed another car was coming, so I launched my leg over the bar of the bike, sat on the seat, and let the bike coast slowly down the hill, paying close attention to the beginning and end of each sidewalk so that it didn't happen again.
To all of you that ride your bike: Know your route, and even if you know your route, don't ride at night. The only reprieve I got while travelling along the road were the street lights. Curbs and bikes don't work well together, unless pain is your thing.
By the way, I rode my bike back to the relay the next day, and that hole I had hit on the way home was about 2 feet deep. My bike survived the wreck miraculously. My body has several scabs and bruises on it, but we all made it. I swore off anymore riding after dark though. Too dangerous, and as I am creeping closer to 40, the healing process from not being careful and taking care of myself will begin taking longer.
Ride well, be safe, take care. Until next time,
Dave
If you plan on riding, remember to keep yourself safe.
I was a the American Cancer Society Relay for Life, in Jackson, MI, this past Friday night. The ACS raises funds by conducting several events throughout the state and nation to help aid in the fight against cancer. This particular event is a 24-hour "walk-a-thon" where sponsors pay for their teams to walk a track for 24-hours straight. Several teams come in and display their support by not only walking, but by putting on their own backdrops to a predetermined theme. It's a great time, showing support for an evil and deadly illness. Since my dad passed away with brain cancer, my grandpa with esophogeal cancer, and my grandma, with brain cancer, one can only imagine what I would do to not have to encounter it again.
I have quit smoking, started getting back in shape, and start eating better. Part of getting back in shape has been riding my bicycle several miles a day. Well, I rode my bike to the ACS Relay for Life, and was there well into the night. At around 11:30 PM, I decided it was time to go home. A couple of people offered me a ride, but because I had a flashlight bungee strapped to my handlebars, I assured them that I would be alright.
All too quickly, it was evident that the flashlight was not going to be of any help at seeing the road in front of me. At one particular turn in the sidewalk, there was a section of concrete lifted high enough to have caused damage to my rim. I swerved off the sidewalk to go around it, only to learn, the hard way, that there was a hole in the ground. As my back tire lifted off the ground, I tensed up my body for the imminent crash. My front wheel finally climbed the side of the hole, and I was able to ride on shaking a bit, but all was well. I reminded myself that I would have to check that hole out the next day when I would come back to participate in the Relay some more.
The road was definitely blacked out to what I could physically see. I was dodging shadows on the ground, thinking they were pot holes. I quickly cranked the gears until I was pedaling as fast as I could in 12th gear. The amount of speed I can build in that gear is around 15-25 mph, depending on the grade and condition of the road. I'm guessing I was moving at about 15 - 20 mph, when I noticed the sidewalk was ending up ahead.
I veered into the road, after ensuring there wasn't any traffic. I rode along, in the road, for two blocks, when I noticed that the sidewalk had reappeared in the next block ahead. I waited until the next road, then steered my way in line with the center of the sidewalk. I was still travelling at the 15 - 20 mph when at the very last second, I noticed the end of the sidewalk didn't have a ramp to lead into it, but rather a curb.
There was little time to react, and as I started to pull the front wheel up, it wasn't in time. The front wheel struck the curb squarely, stopping the bike instantly. Unfortunately, it did not stop me though. I felt the back wheel come off the ground. My feet were already elevated from the pedals. I braced for impact, and knew this was going to hurt. I flipped one and a half times in the air, but was finally struck to the ground by my bike and my backpack. Upon landing, The bike landed on top of me, and my backpack hit me in the head. The backpack had a camera, some tools in case my bike broke down (wrenches, pliers, screwdriver, and allen wrenches), an mp3 player, my identification and insurance cards in it.
I laid on the sidewalk, moving various joints to make sure I was ok to sit up and eventually stand. The pain was setting in, as I realized where I was and the ticking noise of my back wheel made me know it was still on top of me. I pushed the bike off to the side, and sat up quickly. There was a car next to me, at a stop sign. They drove off and I know they were laughing. I finally made an effort to stand, and get my bike up. I brushed the little rocks off of my left arm and left leg, then proceeded to walk a few feet. I noticed another car was coming, so I launched my leg over the bar of the bike, sat on the seat, and let the bike coast slowly down the hill, paying close attention to the beginning and end of each sidewalk so that it didn't happen again.
To all of you that ride your bike: Know your route, and even if you know your route, don't ride at night. The only reprieve I got while travelling along the road were the street lights. Curbs and bikes don't work well together, unless pain is your thing.
By the way, I rode my bike back to the relay the next day, and that hole I had hit on the way home was about 2 feet deep. My bike survived the wreck miraculously. My body has several scabs and bruises on it, but we all made it. I swore off anymore riding after dark though. Too dangerous, and as I am creeping closer to 40, the healing process from not being careful and taking care of myself will begin taking longer.
Ride well, be safe, take care. Until next time,
Dave
Friday, August 1, 2008
Getting Fit
Quitting the habit of smoking was a slow process, although once I put my mind and heart into it, I was convinced it could be done. I saw the effort centered around Chantix, with several other supporting factors. Once I committed to the process, I informed my friends, family and employer. I stepped it up a notch by informing the employees of the stores where I bought my smokes. I knew if I ever caved and asked for a pack, I would get reminded of my goal. Thankfully, I didn't get that reminder...
Since quitting, however, I added an additional 40 pounds to my already overweight body. My weight topped off at 287 lbs., when I decided I needed to start working it off. It has been almost a year, and I am positive I won't be going back to the habit. Now,... How to lose the weight.
My wife and I purchased the Wii recently, and also got the Fit to go with it. What a blast!! I made the little character, then started setting goals. As upsetting as it is, everytime I weigh in, it seems to think it's necessary to tell me I'm obese. Thank you very much, but I already knew that. Heh.
Ok, well the aerobics were fun for a while, but got boring fast. I needed to find another fun way to lose weight. So, I entered my cluttered garage, cleaned it out (with the help of the Jackson Jaycees), and retrieved my bicycle. I relearned, on the very first ride, how much I HATED that seat. That was two weeks ago.
Last weekend, my wife, my son, and I went to the local bike path and rode four miles out, then four miles back. That's quite an accomplishment for my son, who is only 6 years old. I have gone back to the path several times this week. With all of the combined riding, and other exercises with the Wii, I am now down to 265.5 lbs. Another challenge being accomplished.
As I continue down this path of getting my body back in shape, I will update. But for now, I am off, on another ride through town, on my bike. Take care!!
Since quitting, however, I added an additional 40 pounds to my already overweight body. My weight topped off at 287 lbs., when I decided I needed to start working it off. It has been almost a year, and I am positive I won't be going back to the habit. Now,... How to lose the weight.
My wife and I purchased the Wii recently, and also got the Fit to go with it. What a blast!! I made the little character, then started setting goals. As upsetting as it is, everytime I weigh in, it seems to think it's necessary to tell me I'm obese. Thank you very much, but I already knew that. Heh.
Ok, well the aerobics were fun for a while, but got boring fast. I needed to find another fun way to lose weight. So, I entered my cluttered garage, cleaned it out (with the help of the Jackson Jaycees), and retrieved my bicycle. I relearned, on the very first ride, how much I HATED that seat. That was two weeks ago.
Last weekend, my wife, my son, and I went to the local bike path and rode four miles out, then four miles back. That's quite an accomplishment for my son, who is only 6 years old. I have gone back to the path several times this week. With all of the combined riding, and other exercises with the Wii, I am now down to 265.5 lbs. Another challenge being accomplished.
As I continue down this path of getting my body back in shape, I will update. But for now, I am off, on another ride through town, on my bike. Take care!!
Smoking Cessation
Almost one year ago, I began a quest. My quest was to quit a habit I had started 17 years previously. The addiction, my habit, was smoking. I had tried the "Quit Smoking" plans that are on the shelves at your local drug stores, and nothing worked for me. In fact, I tried the patch, and I just couldn't beat the habit of putting a cigarette to my lips. So, I continued smoking while wearing the patch. I ended up at my doctor's office with dizzy spells and fatigue, only to learn that I had overdosed on nicotine. I didn't even think that was possible!!
On August 7, 2007, I went in for a physical and handed an ad for Chantix (R) to him. I asked him what he thought about this medication. Without a word, he set the ad down, pulled out his little pad of paper and wrote a prescription for it. I filled the prescription that night, and the next morning, I began taking it. August 22, 2007 was my first day without a cigarette in 17 years.
I am creeping up on the one year anniversary for quitting smoking. I feel triumphant in being able to accomplish this; especially because I tried everything from the patch to an antidepressant in order to quit, but failed everytime. Honestly, a day does not go by where I don't think about having one, but now I know I can control my urges. After a few minutes and a bottle of water, the urge subsides and I can continue on, knowing I will live longer and be able to spend more time with my family.
When asked what the reasons were for quitting, my answer was and remains to be that I did not do it for my wife, or even my son. I did not do it for myself to live longer or healthier. The reasons I quit don't exist... yet. Someday, my son will have children. I would love to have an opportunity to meet them, and have them get to know me. My son is 6 yrs. old. I have a long ways to go till that happens.
On August 7, 2007, I went in for a physical and handed an ad for Chantix (R) to him. I asked him what he thought about this medication. Without a word, he set the ad down, pulled out his little pad of paper and wrote a prescription for it. I filled the prescription that night, and the next morning, I began taking it. August 22, 2007 was my first day without a cigarette in 17 years.
I am creeping up on the one year anniversary for quitting smoking. I feel triumphant in being able to accomplish this; especially because I tried everything from the patch to an antidepressant in order to quit, but failed everytime. Honestly, a day does not go by where I don't think about having one, but now I know I can control my urges. After a few minutes and a bottle of water, the urge subsides and I can continue on, knowing I will live longer and be able to spend more time with my family.
When asked what the reasons were for quitting, my answer was and remains to be that I did not do it for my wife, or even my son. I did not do it for myself to live longer or healthier. The reasons I quit don't exist... yet. Someday, my son will have children. I would love to have an opportunity to meet them, and have them get to know me. My son is 6 yrs. old. I have a long ways to go till that happens.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
