The Next Step

The time was exactly 8:10 on a beautiful and sunny Tuesday morning when I suddenly found myself laying full length and facedown on the cobblestones outside the main railway station of Malmö.

I had been hastily making my way from the railway station to my sweet, old, Hungarian doctor's surgery nearby, for one of my regular visits. It is still unclear to me whether I tripped on a curb or slipped, but somehow I had barely prevented myself from smashing my teeth and nose on the ground. I could however taste the dust and grit from the street on my lips.

At first I was simply embarrassed and grumbled to myself in my native tongue "satans, helvetes, förbannade, djävla skit", then slowly I started checking sensations from my body to ascertain its condition. I felt a slight pain from my right hand and and wrist and from my right knee, otherwise everything seemed OK. As onlookers hurried to my assistance and asked how I was doing, I slowly rose to my feet again, dusted myself off, smiled shyly and told them that I had been lucky and everything was fine.

The visit with the doctor was good. I could honestly tell him that I was feeling excellent and that I had not had any mood swings since before the summer. He, in turn, informed me that my observations were corroborated by the results of the blood tests, which apparently showed vast improvements from the lifestyle changes I had made.

However, the beneficial news and my lousy results on a Spirometry test that had been conducted recently, moved him on towards urging me to "take the next step", which of course is the favorite subject of any one from the medical professions when they encounter a smoker, i.e. to quit smoking.

My doctor knows me well enough by now than to try to badger me, so the dear man spoke softly and convincingly with me for about twenty minutes and finally made me agree to "move forward". I have now made a commitment to quit smoking and also have the Champix-medication to help me in doing it, whenever I decide to start the cure. It will be my secret and I am not telling anyone, except a few chosen ones so that they can keep their eyes open to signs of recurring depression and other negative side effects.

Later the same day, after lunch, I began feeling stronger pains from my right wrist, especially if and when I tried any rotating movement, and I also noticed a pronounced swelling of my hand and around the wrist. These problem have continued during the rest of the week, but are now slowly getting better. As I am completely right handed, this at the time being means that I prefer chatting in voice and that my last remaining sexual thrills are totally - albeit temporarily - screwed. Hopefully this will soon pass so I can stop feeling sorry for myself and start the new project in making beneficial changes in my life.