Gettin' my patch buzz on

Did I ever tell you my nicotine patch story?  It will only take a minute.

Back in the day, before hubby was my hubby, he was my boyfriend and he smoked.  Hubby smoked a pack of Marlboro's a day for almost five years. 

Now, nobody in my family smokes.  (Well, except for my cousin Little Jimmy, though I'm pretty sure we all ridiculed him into stopping.  As in, Aw, look at Little Jimmy light up!  How adorable!)

At the time I thought hubby was so rugged with his cigarettes and his bleached hair and his baggy pants.  He was in a rock band.  He played poker with the guys every Thursday night.  He was the kind of kid who would staple the hem of his jeans when they ripped, yet would write me poetry on my birthday.  Ahhh.

The summer before we moved from Boston to New York together, hubby decided he was going to quit smoking.  Oddly, I'd never voiced an opinion one way or the other, but I was very supportive.  I even bought him the patch.

One morning the two of us got up extra early to drive to New York to find an apartment.  It was muggy and hubby must've sweated off his patch during the night, because when I awoke it was stuck firmly to the side of my arm.  Hmmm, that was weird.  Shrugging, I pulled it off, but it wasn't too long before I noticed I was feeling rather...strange.

Come to think of it, I was feeling fantastic!!  I bounded out of the room, curiously bursting with early morning energy.  Let's go to New York!!  Come on, wake up, sleepy!!  Get ready!!  Rise and shine!!  Start spreadin' the news... 

My patch buzz lasted almost twenty minutes before I ran to the bathroom and threw up.  Three times.

After that I was markedly subdued. 

My blue fitted sheet still has a tiny square mark where I must've stuck the patch after I ripped it off of my arm.  The stain never did come out.  I call it my patch sheet. 

Amazingly, hubby hasn't had a smoke in over seven years.  He applied his last patch the day we moved to the big apple.  I'm sure it wasn't easy.

In all these years, there was only one time early on when he nearly had a relapse.  We'd gotten into a fight over God knows what, and he'd gone to the corner mart and bought a pack of cigarettes.  Please.  Who did he think he was dealing with here?  I wasn't about to be the reason for his breaking his smoking hiatus!

Vehemently I grabbed the pack, hurled it to the ground and squashed it, right there on the sidewalk.  It was quite the show.  Hubby looked on, stunned.  (He tends to be the more civilized type, you see.) 

Up until that moment I figured I'd been pretty nonpartisan about his smoking.  It was only when he threatened to start again that I realized I was anything but neutral.

Hubby hasn't purchased another pack since, but if he does, I will have to squash it.  I will have to squash those butts with fervor.  After all, that's what I'm here for.

xoxo 

 

Comments

[Weinerdog]

Although I remember the whole patch thing, I don't remember Brian as a smoker(cigarette smoker).

Weird thing to block out.