Almost two years ago I was lying down in the dental chair. Now, I like my dentist. I don't like thee dentist, but I like my dentist. However, during this visit and very much under my breath, I was cursing out my dentist while she was repeatedly stabbing my gums with a dental instrument that I swear was created by Hattori Hanzo himself. When suddenly she stopped. She pulled her protective face mask off so I can see her mouth as she asked me if I still chew tobacco.
Do you still chew?
yes.
what do I have to do to get you to quit?
Tell me the first instant you think you see the smallest sign of cancer.
If you’re gums look like this next time, I’m doing a biopsy.
Bluff or not, I quit chewing one week later (okay, 2). It was hard. My-life-sucked, for months.
I don’t know what is harder – resisting the temptation to do something you want to do, or doing something that you can’t stop doing. I’ve had my battles with smoking and chewing tobacco and have been successful at quitting both. Chewing sneaks up on me quite a bit, but I’ve been able to hold off for the past two years. It’s good. I’m happy about it.
I quit drinking after I was released from the St. Croix County Jail in 1996. I was completely sober for the next 5 years. The next 5 years after that, I was drinking. 2007, I was off and on with mixed results. Since 2008, I’ve been sober again. I like myself. My choices are better, my life is better. I’m comfortable with sobriety. I’m happy this way. If I were standing in Las Vegas again at a betting booth with a wad of green bills, I’d bet that I pick up chewing again before I go back to drinking.
But, last Friday.
Last Friday almost brought me to my knees and I was not ready for it.
I walked out of Target Field and immediately smelled it in the air. It was multiple old scenes that I lived in Los Angeles haunting me right in my very own backyard. It’s that straight run along 3rd Ave - the bouncers manning the entrance of the Gentlemans Club on the corner, the dance club next to it with its techno music, 1 block after that there is Bev’s Wine Bar with people drinking and smoking on the outside patio, then JD Hoyt’s with people smoking and drinking on the outside patio. It’s a 10-minute walk down memory lane. Every part of my body and brain were buzzing like a million small taser guns shocking me at the same time. My blood pressure spiked, my heart started beating faster, my palms started to sweat and I became hyper-aware of everything. My mind was racing.
If you can, picture me walking down this straight run along 3rd Ave in slow motion. And in slow motion, you see my eyes as they locate and focus on everything that was triggering me at that moment… a tall glass of beer, a red wine, the burning tip of a cigarette, the vibrating tables from muffled thumps of bass from the dance floor. I could smell the beer. I could smell the wine. I could smell the smoke. I could hear the music. I could taste the appetizers. I could feel the drunkenness.
It wasn't that I needed the booze right-that-second or I was going to go into withdrawal. It wasn't even the smell of the smokes that was pulling me in as much as it was just the atmosphere. It was the atmosphere that was flirting with me. The same atmosphere that I was attracted to in college. The same atmosphere that I was attracted to when living in LA. The same atmosphere that I was attracted to when I lived in Vegas. I was in that type of atmosphere when I had the most fun, er, trouble. I tell you now, it would have been nice to sitdown. It would have been nice to call my friends and have them meet me there. It would have been very nice to call Heidi and have her meet me there. Yeah, that would have been fun to stay downtown.
But I kept walking.
But If it was 10-minutes, it was an hour.
You’d think these triggers would stop at some point. You’d think I have experienced every type of trigger situation available. But I haven’t. Friday was proof. I’m still a target of temptation.
I’m too old to get caught up in that foolishness. I have Heidi. I have Lily, I have Cole. I choose them.
That was the last time I went to the dentist.
