Last night, we somehow found ourselves having the "heaven vs. hell" talk with the five-year-old.
What preceded was Discussion No. 517 about M-man's disruptive behavior in school. Yesterday it was running down the hall and pulling down kids' artwork that was posted on the walls. What the heck gets into him, I do not know.
We were talking about making good choices vs. bad choices, and all of the reasons we should make good choices -- helping people, showing our friends we care about them, making Mommy happy (it matters, ok, haha!), etc.
Suddenly it was all heaven vs. hell. My little guy was far more interested in hearing about this hell place.
Why is it bad?
Who lives there?
Are there monsters there? (Oh yes, very bad ones you can't get away from).
Do you live there for a long time?
Can you get out of hell?
I was torn between admitting I didn't know what the "hell" I was talking about and wanting to scare the shit out of him, since he's been a terror lately. I opted for scary.
So far he's still asleep and there's no screaming. Whew.
***
Speaking of hell, I had the opportunity to talk to third-year medical residents yesterday at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
I was invited by the woman who helped me to quit smoking seven years ago, the wonderful and effervescent Carol Southard, whose full-time job is to help people quit.
It was great to see Carol again -- I can't thank her enough for changing my life. Everytime I tell her that, she tells me the same thing: that I did all the work. Love her.
Anyway, I got to be the real person who quit. Talking to the med students wasn't the hellish part. It reminded me, though, how hellish quitting cigarettes was.
I talked about how important a role they could play in getting someone to quit -- even in just the few minutes they'll likely have with a patient.
In 2006, when Pfizer had introduced the drug Chantix (note, I do not work for any drug company nor am I paid by one), I had gone to my doctor at the time to see if I could get help to quit, after failing many, many times. She mentioned this new drug, Chantix.
I was pumped -- there's a pill that could help me quit? Sign me up!!
I recounted this story to the young, fresh-faced doctors in the conference room. I told them: "here was a perfect opportunity for her to say something like, well, I don;t have a lot of patients who have used it yet, but why don't you try it and also, here's a smoking cessation group you could try to increase your chances of succeeding... and instead, her response was 'eh, I had one patient who tried it and it didn't work for him.'"
Thud. What a lost opportunity.
I didn't try the drug until a year later, when I was referred to Carol's group. (Northwestern, you should promote this group better!) (I also changed doctors eventually. I really like my doctor now.)
Quitting was a brutal job -- it HAS to be similar to hell, I am semi-convinced. I took Chantix and despite the B.S. about hallucinations, etc., I was totally fine on it and it helped me to not want a cigarette while I suffered through horrible withdrawal and anxiety.
I think what helped was to thinking of quitting in terms of nouns, not verbs. "Quitting" and "never smoking again" were such scary concepts. Being a "runner" or being "someone who doesn't smoke" was more appealing.
Anyway, the talk went well. I advised them to remind smokers it's not their fault (smokers feel very ashamed and guilty, whether they admit it or not) and to be the guide who provides them a roadmap to quitting. It's just too hard to do alone, in my opinion. The "cold turkey" quit success rates are 4-6%, because cigarettes have more addictive chemicals in them than ever.
And it humbled me once again -- nobody really thinks of smokers as "addicts" but we are.
I am so lucky.
What preceded was Discussion No. 517 about M-man's disruptive behavior in school. Yesterday it was running down the hall and pulling down kids' artwork that was posted on the walls. What the heck gets into him, I do not know.
We were talking about making good choices vs. bad choices, and all of the reasons we should make good choices -- helping people, showing our friends we care about them, making Mommy happy (it matters, ok, haha!), etc.
Suddenly it was all heaven vs. hell. My little guy was far more interested in hearing about this hell place.
Why is it bad?
Who lives there?
Are there monsters there? (Oh yes, very bad ones you can't get away from).
Do you live there for a long time?
Can you get out of hell?
I was torn between admitting I didn't know what the "hell" I was talking about and wanting to scare the shit out of him, since he's been a terror lately. I opted for scary.
So far he's still asleep and there's no screaming. Whew.
***
Speaking of hell, I had the opportunity to talk to third-year medical residents yesterday at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
I was invited by the woman who helped me to quit smoking seven years ago, the wonderful and effervescent Carol Southard, whose full-time job is to help people quit.
It was great to see Carol again -- I can't thank her enough for changing my life. Everytime I tell her that, she tells me the same thing: that I did all the work. Love her.
Anyway, I got to be the real person who quit. Talking to the med students wasn't the hellish part. It reminded me, though, how hellish quitting cigarettes was.
I talked about how important a role they could play in getting someone to quit -- even in just the few minutes they'll likely have with a patient.
In 2006, when Pfizer had introduced the drug Chantix (note, I do not work for any drug company nor am I paid by one), I had gone to my doctor at the time to see if I could get help to quit, after failing many, many times. She mentioned this new drug, Chantix.
I was pumped -- there's a pill that could help me quit? Sign me up!!
I recounted this story to the young, fresh-faced doctors in the conference room. I told them: "here was a perfect opportunity for her to say something like, well, I don;t have a lot of patients who have used it yet, but why don't you try it and also, here's a smoking cessation group you could try to increase your chances of succeeding... and instead, her response was 'eh, I had one patient who tried it and it didn't work for him.'"
Thud. What a lost opportunity.
I didn't try the drug until a year later, when I was referred to Carol's group. (Northwestern, you should promote this group better!) (I also changed doctors eventually. I really like my doctor now.)
Quitting was a brutal job -- it HAS to be similar to hell, I am semi-convinced. I took Chantix and despite the B.S. about hallucinations, etc., I was totally fine on it and it helped me to not want a cigarette while I suffered through horrible withdrawal and anxiety.
I think what helped was to thinking of quitting in terms of nouns, not verbs. "Quitting" and "never smoking again" were such scary concepts. Being a "runner" or being "someone who doesn't smoke" was more appealing.
Anyway, the talk went well. I advised them to remind smokers it's not their fault (smokers feel very ashamed and guilty, whether they admit it or not) and to be the guide who provides them a roadmap to quitting. It's just too hard to do alone, in my opinion. The "cold turkey" quit success rates are 4-6%, because cigarettes have more addictive chemicals in them than ever.
And it humbled me once again -- nobody really thinks of smokers as "addicts" but we are.
I am so lucky.
***
Tuesday 10/28 Still too sore to run, but no longer hobbling.
Wednesday 10/29 7.7 miles. Quads still hate me, but far less than they did earlier in the week.
Thursday 10/30 5 miles
Friday Group Centergy class. Also snow on Halloween.
Saturday 11.6 miles in wicked winds. Busted out the running tights.
Sunday 6.5 super slow miles with a friend before her 5k race.
Total weekly mileage: 30.8 miles
Total training miles: 572.0 miles
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