Callin’ it Quits, a health writer’s journey to smoking cessation, has been discontinued. We appreciate your support and involvement.

To learn more about the WEA Trust’s tobacco cessation program, please visit the health and wellness section at weatrust.com and click on tobacco cessation.

With sorrow, I have to say goodbye to all of you–and the Callin’ it Quits blog.

The many demands of my father and sister’s estates in Florida have made it necessary for me to leave the Trust, under whose auspices this blog is presented. My final day at work is tomorrow and I leave Saturday morning for Florida and a meeting next Monday.

This feels a lot like saying goodbye to a dear friend. I’ve gained far more than I’ve given from the many people who have contacted me one way or another and the tremendous support for my effort to kick the smoking habit. And the commitment I made to you and the blog was a driving force when I quit last year.

Speaking of my smoking habit–yes, I will quit! The wonderful Beth suggested that I quit on the day of the Great American Smokeout–November 15. I think this is a great idea–so now you know my new quit date! I now know that I can do it. You can too! Take advantage of the support available at the Trust and many other organizations and dump your deadly habit.

I’m going to pretend I’m at the podium on Oscar night and say some thank-yous to:

• The WEA Trust, which went out on a limb and supported me in this endeavor
• Ben, my friend and the man of infinite patience who set up the blog and put up with my nonstop technical questions
• Scott and Amir for the encouragement and previewing many, many posts
• Beth, Norm, Kathleen, Debra, Kelly and other people I’ve gotten to know, in part, because of the blog or who have offered extra support and encouragement
• The people who found enough value/entertainment in Callin’ it Quits to link to this blog.
• My husband, Jeff, for putting up with me–smoking, quitting and non-smoking

I may well start my own blog in a few months after the dust settles a bit on the estates. If you’re interested, Google should tell you where to find me.

I just hate saying goodbye, so…catch you later.

It’s been a couple of years now since the FDA approved Chantix (the generic is varenicline) as a smoking cessation aid, but many people still have questions about the medication.

Zyban (generic name, bupropion) has been used to help people kick the smoking habit since 1997. Under the name, Wellbutrin, the drug is also widely used to treat depression.

Dry mouth, increased sweating, headache, constipation, sleep problems, anxiety and fatigue are listed as the most common side effects. The general observation is that most people tolerate the medication fairly well. Zyban can, however, cause seizures in people with a history of seizures or eating disorders. And Zyban cannot be taken in combination with certain drugs.

Although Zyban is used for smoking cessation, it is an antidepressant and carries a warning from the FDA that some users may have suicidal thoughts when first taking the medication.

Chantix is not an antidepressant like Zyban. Chantix reduces your cravings for nicotine and, if you should smoke, that cigarette won’t be as pleasurable. In clinical trials, Chantix slightly outperforms Zyban.

Common side effects from Chantix are nausea, stomach discomfort, weakness, increased appetite, headache, weird dreams and insomnia. As with all medications, you should check with your doctor if you’re taking other drugs or supplements.

“Can Chantix cause depression?” is often asked. According to its manufacturer, depression and anxiety are frequent side effects.

Your doctor can help you select the medication most appropriate for you. Remember, too, that even when you’re using a cessation aid, the support of a program like the Trust’s Quit Smoking–Your Way! is crucial to successfully kicking the habit.

When chatting with a fellow smoker at one of our outdoor smoking hangouts here at the Trust, she mentioned that she’s considering laser treatment to stop smoking. It seems a couple of her friends reported great success with this method.

Cold lasers are used on specific “energy” points, like acupuncture, to boost endorphin production. Endorphins help you relax, improve your mood–and they may reduce nicotine cravings.

However, before shelling out your hard-earned shekels for laser treatment, consider that it has not been proven effective in formal, scientific studies.

Dr. Norman Edelman, chief medical officer of the American Lung Association said that there is no evidence that the laser program works. The FDA has not approved the laser devices and the American Cancer Society does not endorse beaming away your habit.

My position is: Anything that can help you quit smoking is a good thing. If you believe the laser treatment can help you kick the habit, it might just happen. I do believe that getting your head in the right place is by far the most important part of the process.

Looking at the photo of Popeye puffing away on his pipe in Wednesday’s post reminds me of my great-grandmother, Sally Wilkerson. Like darned near everyone in my family, Grandma Sally smoked. Unlike the other women in the family, Grandma Sally smoked a corncob pipe.

I’m sorry that I have only vague memories of Grandma Sally and Grandpa Isom. People speak of them with warmth. Grandma and Grandpa lived in the beautiful rolling hills of Southern Indiana–if I remember correctly, in a wide spot in the road called Elkinsville.

Mother always talked about an evening we spent with them. For our meal, Grandma transformed a clucking chicken from the yard to perfect fried chicken, made cornbread and biscuits from scratch because, “Your grandpa likes biscuits better,” cooked green beans and set it all on the table with, I’m sure, a small bowl of either bread and butter pickles or corn relish–which she had canned, of course. Mother always marveled that Grandma Sally had this banquet on the table in just 45 minutes.

Grandma and Grandpa Wilkerson were both tall and skinny. Even in photos of them when they were older, you could see they contributed to the good looks of my mother and grandmother. Grandpa Isom looked a lot like Sean Connery. Really!

Because I love it so, I tend to romanticize life in Brown County. But Grandma Sally had a rough row to hoe. She continued having children until age stopped her. I believe her youngest was named Claude.

Because Grandama was so “mature” when she had Claude, he had Down Syndrome. (The risk is one in 25 births if the mother is age 45 or older.) But he was well loved and cared for, participating in family life like the rest of the brood. I have a treasured photo of Grandma Sally, Mam-ma and Claude standing by a large, freestanding bell in the yard, the woods just behind them. That bell was used many times over the years, calling family in from the fields for supper.

Now, I may have fallen off the quit wagon and am continuing the family smoking habit, but you’ll never catch me smoking a corncob pipe. It’s been quite a few years, but I have smoked a few cigars. That’s another story.

Illiterate I’m not

Innumerate This describes me

Computercatatonic My nickname

Feeling cocky, I decided to explore the blog hosting software this morning. The next thing you know, the blog has a different theme. I can’t find the right one. And of course, I decide to go exploring on the very day that Ben, the good guy here who makes this blog happen, is out.

Now, I have a theory that computers deliberately sabotage our work from time to time, to make it clear that they are the boss. It’s an effective maneuver that confronts me almost daily. I often believe this computer is far superior to me.

Computercatatonia

Computercatatonia is directly related to tobacco addiction. Without real concerted effort, both take over and you become their slave. I wish kicking smoking addiction was as easy as taking a computer class. In the words of fellow-smoker Popeye when faced with a challenge, “Salami. Salami. Baloney.”

Note that Popeye keeps puffing away–until he gets his spinach, I presume. Did I have a cigarette when the computer decided to show me who’s the boss…

Back to Normal

When Ben returns tomorrow, Callin’ It Quits should look like its old self. (Old self??! Not a personal association I like.)

My mother has been gone four years now. Except for the first few months after she died, I don’t think I’ve missed her more than I do during this time of additional loss.

Mama Don’t Take My Kodachrome Away

I now am the keeper of all my parents’ and my sister’s photos–albums and boxes and boxes. In one of my favorite shots of my lovely mother, she’s sitting on the floor at a party hosted by their friends, the McCraes with Dotty McCrae’s wonderful art and artifacts in the background.

Mother must have been in her early 30s. She’s wearing a brown dress with a vivid, contrasting scarf. (Unusual, because I’m the one in the family who loves scarves.) Super-slim as always, Mother’s legs and bare feet are tucked behind her and she’s leaning in the other direction, animated, smiling and intent on a conversation with someone outside the shot. She’s leaning on one hand and gesturing dramatically with her other arm outstretched.

Mother was movie-star beautiful. You don’t have to take my word for that; many people would corroborate the point. One of her three brothers recently told me of a conversation he had with their Uncle Von. “When you boys were growing up, did you have any idea how beautiful Donna was?” Uncle Von asked. Then he added, “We all thought she was the most beautiful creature who walked the earth.” That was Mother.

In the photo at the McCrae’s party, mother’s outstretched arm ends with a lit cigarette. Going through all of the photos, I realized that there are very few photos that show Mother without a cigarette.

Defiance

When smoking became unfashionable, Mother made no accommodation for even the most rabid anti-smoker. (That would be my sister-in-law.) She ignored common sentiment and was truly quite obnoxious about smoking. I know many people talked about this unflatteringly–not without reason.

When Mother died in 2003, I wrote her obituary. Although Dad didn’t get it, I insisted that we name her cause of death, which was not associated with smoking. I knew that some people would assume Mother died of a smoking-related condition and I didn’t want to give anyone an excuse to be tacky about her smoking after she was gone.

Next summer, the Trust is going to adopt a total smoking ban, including all Trust property–inside and out. Given our commitment to wellness, I applaud the decision. I can’t help but wonder, however, about some of our staff who are really, really hooked.

I guess people will go out to the street to smoke. It will look like we’ve attracted publicity and people are swarming the street at the edge of our property. And on those winter days when the wind chill is -20…forget it.

Profit Center?

You know, I could set up a beverage cart out by the street. I’d sell warm and cold beverages (dictated by the weather) and small portable items like mini battery-operated fans and pocket warmers.

They say addiction is a disease. Does smoking fit this model? If so, then would all larger employers would have to make “reasonable accommodation” on behalf of smokers to comply with the Americans with Disabilities Act?

Aha!

Just think of all those phone booths that have been mothballed because of cellphones…

When I kicked the smoking habit last year, there were times I needed something in my mouth to replace the cigarettes. Most often, I popped a nicotine lozenge. Hard candies also worked well. A couple of times, I sucked on unlit cigarettes. I bit my nails too, but I do that anyway. (I know. I know. My nails always look terrible. I need to get that nasty-tasting substance used to get kids off of their thumb-sucking addiction.)

I found that having something that had to dissolve very slowly in my mouth helped me forget cravings. The nicotine lozenge should not be bitten into or swallowed, so it was a good smoking cessation aid for me. Of course, there was the time that I nearly choked on one.

I drafted the following list of cigarette substitutes last year:

Substitutes that Feel More Like Cigarettes

• A plastic straw cut to the length of a cigarette
• Cinnamon sticks (the real deal, available in the spices section of most grocery stores)
• Carrot or celery sticks
• Sugar-free hard candy sticks
• Licorice sticks

Other Oral Options

• Crunchy fruit or vegetables
• Sugarless gum, mints or candy
• Your little finger

A reader said she’d used glue sticks. The size is right, but I’m not sure if they’re toxic.

New Additions

• Get a sampler pack of herbal teas and try all of them
• Sunflower seeds, pistachios or pumpkin seeds
• Pretzel sticks or wands
• Jerky or fruit leather
• Drink a lot of water

I’ll keep thinking about substitutes. It would be great to have your ideas, too.

Acomplia (rimonabant), the new medication that helps you lose weight and (off label) kick the smoking habit, again has failed to pass muster with the FDA. This was their third run at the FDA since 2005. The drug has been approved in the EU and several other countries. But the FDA is remains concerned about risks (depression and suicidal thoughts may be among them) for those taking the medication.

Acomplia was concocted by Sanofi-Aventis, which is headquartered in Paris. Some financial analysts believe the hangup is rooted in communication problems between the French drug makers and the American regulators. In a reversal of stereotypes, the French are being positive and upbeat, the Americans are negative and unyielding.

Francophileitis

My name is Susan. I’m addicted to cigarettes–and France. If I had to give up one–goodbye smoking! Going to France three times has only fueled my yearning to live there some day.

I hear a lot about how unfriendly the French are. Oh contraire! The French, by nature, are reserved. Like Aretha, they only want respect. That includes attempting to acknowledge their language and culture.

I’ll admit that I’ve run into some real “Ugly Americans,” particularly in Paris, who make no attempt to be respectful or to do as the French do. These are the people who find the French unfriendly.

We stayed on the Left Bank the last time we were in Paris. Each morning, we’d walk to a wonderful little patisserie (bakery) to sit at one of their small tables and enjoy cafe creme and pain au chocolate (chocolate croissants–Paris is no place to diet).

I would enter the shop, say, “Bonjour Madame.” (You must greet the proprietor when entering a store.) Then, in my limited, ghastly French, I’d order. When stumbling on a word, I’d look apologetic and try a couple of different pronunciations with my eyebrows raised in question. They would smile and tell me how to say it correctly.

By day three, the entire staff greeted us. Some would stop and chat in broken English, an ability that wasn’t revealed until I’d made my attempt at French. The patisserie was located at a hub of a quadrant that housed outdoor markets, including a flower market just across the cobblestone street. Most traffic was on foot–two and four feet because dogs are ubiquitous in Paris. Oh…I’m getting misty-eyed just thinking of the experience.

Proposal

I do believe that Sanofi-Aventis should send me to Paris to enlighten them on American customs and culture. I would embrace their culture. I would work harder on my French. I’d quit smoking! Do you, perhaps, have contacts with the company?