The day started early at 7:00 a.m., the kind of early that feels less like morning and more like a negotiation with reality. Mom and I teamed up to give Whiskey Kitty her medicine. She did not agree to this plan. There was twisting, squirming, a protest worthy of a tiny courtroom drama, and a small spill on the table mat for good measure. Nothing like a determined cat to remind you that control is always an illusion.
From there, it was off to my own medical adventure. The urologist visit was one of those humbling reminders that the human body comes with maintenance checks you don’t exactly look forward to. Yes, the exam happened. Yes, it was uncomfortable. And yes, the result was a reminder that I still carry a cancer risk. The next step may be an MRI, assuming insurance gives its blessing. Health has a way of cutting through denial like a spotlight through stage fog.
But here’s the surprising part of the day.
The Chantix is working.
For the first time in a while, cigarettes aren’t pulling the strings the way they used to. I find myself unable to finish them. The craving isn’t roaring anymore. It’s more like a tired whisper that I don’t feel obligated to answer. That shift feels small on the surface, but inside, it’s a tectonic plate moving.
If everything continues in this direction, I could be fully nonsmoking again by early next week.
It’s strange what finally moves the needle. A health scare. A medication. A cat wrestling match. A morning that starts too early. Change doesn’t arrive like a parade. It sneaks in through ordinary moments and quietly rearranges your habits.
You never know what it’s going to take. But something is working.
And for today, that’s enough.
I got this again.
by Dan and Bonkers
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