Quit Smoking Diary, Part 4

Author's note:  The following story is satire, and is not intended to, in
any sense, imply that people should not quit smoking, or that people should
intentionally sabotage the attempts of others to quit.  As the surgeon
general so wisely advises, "Quitting smoking now greatly reduces serious
risks to your health."

The author does not necessarily condone the use of tobacco, nor hypnosis
under false pretenses, nor participation in lesbian sex, , nor masturbation,
nor any other morally questionable practice depicted in the story.  

Later parts of the story contain graphic sexual language, and are not
suitable for underage readers.  

Any resemblance to smoking fetish fiction is purely accidental.  

"My Quit Smoking Diary"
Part 4 

Entry 9:

My name is Jennifer Morgan, and I am a nicotine addict. Right now, I am
trapped on a boat without a single cigarette aboard, and I would literally do
anything for a smoke right now. Anything.

I've been wearing the nicotine patches Dr. Monroe got me, and chewing the
gum non-stop, but, for whatever reason, it has only seemed to make my
cravings for a cigarette worse. All I can think about is how good it would
feel to pump lungful after lungful of rich tobacco into my body. But it is
hopeless. I'm stuck on this boat for two more days till we reach port in
Havana. I am afraid that when we dock I will rush off of the boat to buy
cigarettes.

I really hope that this is the worst part of my withdrawals. So far, I've
been smoke free for nine hours and twenty-two minutes. I think I made a big
mistake in listening to Maureen, even though I know that as a good friend,
she wants what's best for me, and wants somehow to make up for getting me
started on cigarettes in the first place.

Last night, I wasn't able to get to sleep for a very long time. It was as if
something was nagging at me. Instead, I stayed up, smoking almost non-stop. I
think I went through a whole pack from the time Dr. Monroe left until I
finally dozed off. I know I shouldn't have, but it was like I wanted to get
as much smoke inside me as possible to tide me over during this stupid
cruise. When finally I did get to sleep, what do you think I dreamed about?

The morning began fairly well. I woke up on time, and had my morning
cigarettes. Dr. Monroe arrived right on time for our last session, and just
seeing her calmed me and made me more confident that I could pull this whole
thing off. Naturally, I was smoking the whole time we talked, so I guess that
helped a little bit too. Mainly, I just talked, while she listened. She was
unable to do hypnosis with me, though, since I was so jittery.

Right before we left, she asked me if I was sure that I wanted to quit, and,
like a proud fool, I said yes. Then, suddenly, she told me that I was about
to smoke my last cigarette ever. Hearing those words almost sent me over the
edge, but I took a deep breath, and then took out one more cigarette from my
pack. 

Before I lit it up, Dr. Monroe asked if she could record me on video, so that
we could use the tape in a wrap-up session when I returned from my trip. The
request seemed a bit unusual to me but, as I keep saying, I trust Dr. Monroe
to make decisions for me.

My hand was shaking so bad I could hardly light up, but Dr. Monroe steadied
it with her own, and soon I had smoke in my lungs for the last time. Each
time I inhaled, I was hesitant to exhale, except that I saw the cigarette
burning away between my fingers, and was eager to suck down every last bit of
the nicotine it provided. It was almost surreal, thinking that this might be
the last time I ever have the feeling of smoke in my lungs and nicotine in my
brain. When I took the last puff, I held the smoke in until I thought I would
pass out and then, with harsh finality, I exhaled, and stubbed out the spent
butt in my ashtray.

Dr. Monroe asked me to take the rest of my cigarettes, crush them in my
hands, and throw them away. Doing so broke my heart, but I can say that I did
it. Then, smiling reassuringly, she told me that she was certain that I after
I got back from my cruise, I would never want to even touch another one of my
beloved Newports.

We hit traffic on the way to the airport, and I barely made my flight on
time. I had been hoping that the flight would be delayed, so that I could buy
cigarettes, and have one more, but I had no such luck.

The flight was bumpy, very bumpy, and I chomped on my nicotine gum despite
the fact that I was already wearing a patch. As I said earlier, it didn't
seem to help any.

We landed, and after I finally tracked down my luggage, I took a cab from the
airport to the seaport, and boarded my ship. Again, I was very tempted to buy
cigarettes when we landed, but with the delays getting my luggage, time was
again short before the ship disembarked. 

I almost considered not getting onboard, but somehow I willed my legs to move
me onto the ship. When the ship set sail, I seriously wanted to jump
overboard. I'm feeling claustrophobic like you wouldn't believe. As I look
around at all of the stupid non-smokers, laughing and having a great and
relaxing time while enjoying their stupid "smoke-free Paradise cruise," I
feel like I'm trapped in hell.

For a couple hours, all I could do was pace back and forth in my room, trying
to think of some way out of my predicament. In frustration, I took the little
piece of gum that I was chewing, and flushed it down the toilet, only to take
out another piece a few minutes later and chomp furiously on it. While as I
said it only seemed to make my cravings worse, it seemed better than nothing,
and chewing on gum at least gave me something to do while I paced.

Dr. Monroe had suggested that I have a "buddy" I could talk to if I needed,
so I decided to give Maureen a call. She told me to calm down and try to take
a few deep breaths, and that helped, until, distantly, I heard the click of a
lighter from her end. 

I began to talk more rapidly, trying to keep from thinking about what I
thought she was doing on the other end, but as I talked, every few seconds I
could faintly make out the sounds of her cigarette crackling before she
quietly inhaled her smoke. 

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore, and I asked her if she was smoking
while we talked. She paused, awkwardly, and then denied it, saying that
actually she hadn't smoked very much that day at all, since she was really
busy with something. Her vague answer only confirmed my suspicions, and I
began to regret that I called. I couldn't blame her, though. I always smoke
when I talk on the phone. I just can't help myself. And, as I said earlier,
Maureen and I are alike in many ways.

Still, she listened patiently, almost intently, as I vented my frustrations,
and again I felt lucky to have such a great friend in her. I'm sure that if
the situation were reversed, I would do exactly the same things for her as
she's done for me. 

After talking with her for over an hour, and enduring the sounds of what I
suspected were at least five cigarettes that she smoked while listening to my
complaints, I couldn't take it anymore, and thanked her for her great help.
She told me that it was her pleasure, and we both hung up.

That was about an hour ago, and since then, I've been writing, with fits and
starts, today's journal entry, hoping that somehow getting my thoughts into
words can help me find some solace. Perhaps, someday, I'll be able to look
back on everything that I've written this whole experience and laugh,
although right now I doubt it.

My only bright spot is that I am rooming next to somebody else who is in my
same situation. Maureen evidently tipped off the cruise line that I was
onboard to help me quit smoking; when I arrived one of the crew members
informed me that they had roomed me next to a girl around my age, named
Emily, whom they say is also trying to quit smoking while on the cruise. I
haven't met her yet, but hopefully spending time and talking with somebody
in the same boat, so to speak, can help me get rid of these horrible
cravings. Maybe we'll even get to be good friends.

I'm going to email this journal to Dr. Monroe, and then try to do something
to take my mind off of cigarettes. I just have to keep reminding myself that
this is not the end of the world, and that other people quit smoking all the
time. I can't shake the feeling, however, that somehow my case is different.

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