Champix, the necessary evil. I have tried and failed in the past to quit smoking. I knew it was bad for me, but I was addicted to nicotine. I tried the patches when I was 23, but ceased using them after they started making my skin smell like a stale garbage bin. I managed to not smoke for 4 and a half months back then. Last year my house mate and I decided that we were going to kick the habit together after hearing about Champix from a friend. We both popped off to our doctors, and started taking Champix the following Monday. It was great. 3 days into the treatment I was not finding myself having the urge to light up every 10 minutes. It was weird. My brain would think "Oh, it's been a while. Let's have a ciggie" The just like magic another part of my brain would kick in and say "We really don't need that coffin nail, do we?" and I would not light up. I managed to last 6 months before things went sour with the housemate and instead of fighting with him, I'd go out into the back yard and have a cheeky cig. This was OK at first. Just smoking one or two a week. As things got more and more hostile between us, I began smoking more and more, and before I knew it, I was a full time smoker again.
8 months down the track brings us to March this year. and it was as if a switch had been flipped in my head. I just wasn't craving to smoke as often as I use to. It may have had something to do with the change in recipe of my favourite brand. I even called the customer hotline to ask why they tasted different and stopped burning if you stopped puffing. I swapped brands, was still unsatisfied and it was then I signed myself up for another round of Champix. Again on the third or fourth day after commencing the medication, the desire to smoke was gone. i cut down to around 10 or less fags a day. 2 weeks into treatment I had given up completely. I was stoked!
On the fourth week of taking the tablets I began having crazy dreams. Not crazy, cool trippy, acid-like dreams. But more like frightening nightmares that would wake me up in hot and cold sweats. Sometimes I would even wake up trembling. The first one I can remember involved my dog (and life partner) Billy and I going on a road trip 'in a fried-out kombie'. We stopped at an imaginary seaside town to stock up supplies. Upon my return to the car, I found my precious Billy had been murdered in the back of the camper van. He had had his throat slashed. His blood was everywhere. It was upon seeing this that I woke up. Another nightmare I can remember involved me being stalked by some kind of predator through the streets of Melbourne. This horrid dream resulted in me being hung, drawn and quartered, just like the medieval torture. Nice. Not.
