Tag: Smoking

Posted on

Smoking,by Gillian

“I
quit smoking when I was in college”,  I
say, righteously; but that is a huge distortion of the truth!
It’s
not exactly a lie. I have probably not smoked more than ten cigarettes since
the late 1950’s. But I didn’t quit in the sense of the huge conscious
effort of concentrated willpower the word implies. I just kind of drifted away
from it and never really missed it; rather in the same way I had drifted into
it. It was attractive, for a while, in the way of all forbidden things,
especially to the young. We smuggled ill-gotten packs of cigarettes onto the
school bus, puffing away at them huddled on the back seat while the driver
turned a blind eye. He chain-smoked so why should he care if we took a few
inexpert drags?
I
didn’t quite get the attraction, but of course did not say so. There’s a limit to how much of an odd-ball one
is willing to become, and holding a cigarette between my fingers for a few
seconds every now and then was a cheap price to pay for belonging: not being an
outcast. (Being the child of a local teacher offers many challenges.)  Nobody seemed to notice whether I ever
actually placed the cigarette between my lips, much less inhaled. Life was
easy.
In
college, at any social gathering, I always had a drink in my hand. So did my
fellow party-goers. Most of them also held a smoldering cigarette. But the
drink was my membership card, so few, if any, noticed the lack of burning
embers.
A
few years later, at a party with several twenty-something co-workers, my husband
and I both had the obligatory drink-in-the-hand when the joint came by. We both
passed it on, untouched by human lips; untouched by ours, anyway. We both knew
that we had enough of a challenge controlling the attractions of alcohol and
had no need of another.
So,
in a very strange way, booze has saved me.
But
the attitude of the medical profession towards drinking and smoking which I
find rather strange.
“Yes”,
I acknowledge, “I probably drink more than is good for me.”
“Do
you smoke?” is the inevitable response.
I
think if I said, “There’s a huge pink elephant in the corner of your office,” the
reply would probably be, “How many packs do you average a day?’”
© August 2016 
About the Author 
I was born and
raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S.
and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder
area since 1965, working for 30-years at IBM. I married, raised four
stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself
as a lesbian. I have been with my wonderful partner Betsy for thirty-years.
We have been married since 2013.
Posted on

Smoking, by Will Stanton

James died of lung cancer. They took out part of his lung. Then, it spread to his brain, and they had to operate on his brain. It spread more throughout his remaining lungs. He suffered for six years. I cared for him. He struggled hard the whole time. I understand that he struggled so hard because he did not want to leave me alone. He felt leaving was a betrayal. He said so as he lay dying.

When he was very young, a long time ago, his father (who always addressed James by his middle name) warned him, “Howard, never take up smoking.” His father was a terribly poor Georgian and did not know how to read; but, in his own way, he was very wise. And, this was long before the tobacco companies finally were forced to admit that smoking kills. Sociopaths as they were, those tobacco-men made billions of dollars over many years, selling an addictive poison. And, poor James fell for it. After all, everyone in the movies was smoking. Everyone smoked on the streets, in the shops, and in the work-places where James went.

Later in San Antonio, James was eagerly accepted into the classy social crowd, which is not surprising. James was exceedingly handsome, intelligent, and charismatic. Everybody wanted James to come to their parties. Of course, there always was lots of booze, and it was regarded as the smart thing to smoke. Everyone else was, so James started smoking, too. With so much influence from all his good friends, why would he heed his father’s early warning?

I can’t say that I was much wiser. I never bothered to take up smoking and, as a consequence, did not really know much about it. This was still before the cigarette drug-dealers admitted that smoking could cause cancer.

When I met James, his affect was that of a very educated, elegant gentleman. When he smoked, that was just part of his persona. For him, of course, it was a deep-seated addiction.

So, for his birthday, I gave him a gold Tiffany cigarette lighter and a gold cigarette case. In my ignorance, I became an enabler.

Several years went by, and James developed a chronic cough. He went to see a doctor, who told him, “I don’t like the architecture of your lungs.” I shall never forget those words. James had developed chronic bronchitis and was ordered to stop smoking. Within just a few days, James’ face no longer looked so gray, but the damage was done.

In 1991, James came home from the doctor and told me the news: he had lung cancer. He cried. All I could do then, and for the rest of his life, was to stand by him, to help him in every way I could. Some acquaintances actually asked me, “Why don’t you leave him?” I was shocked. How could I? I took care of him for six years and was with him when he drew his last breath.

Those final days happened already two decades ago; yet, in some ways, it seems like just yesterday. The years have gone by; I have grown older. When I think back, we had some good years together, fourteen out of twenty. But I keep wondering, “What would it have been like to have continued together to this very day in good health?”

© 6 July 2016

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

Posted on

Smoking, by Betsy

I started smoking in my last year of high school. It was presented to me not as an option, but rather as “of course your going to smoke, adults do it and now that you are an adult there is no reason not to be a smoker.” This was early 1950’s and there was nothing in my conscious mind that told me I shouldn’t. I knew my parents would disapprove. They would think I wasn’t old enough. But what did they know? And in a year or so they would realize I was old enough to smoke.

In college most of us smoked. Between classes, before classes, and after classes, mornings, evenings, and weekends. At parties and in our rooms. The father of one of my classmates was the CEO of Reynolds tobacco. The tobacco companies were “in high cotton” in those days.

All our heroes and heroines smoked. In the movies the doctor consulting with his patient was sitting at his desk smoking a cigarette. The advertisements led you to believe that if you smoked, your image would improve and you would become much more sophisticated and successful. Everyone smoked from the Marlboro man to the savvy housewife. Everyone smoked everywhere from the workplace to any public place including public transportation vehicles, eating places, drinking places, shopping places, the doctor’s office, and, of course, at home.

I don’t actually remember how I got started. Probably someone gave me a cigarette. I do remember how it felt the first time I took a drag and inhaled. It made me dizzy and made me cough. It didn’t particularly taste good either, but I persisted and after a couple of tries I was hooked.

I’ve never done any drugs other than tobacco and I do drink alcohol, but rather sparingly.

Cigarettes were my addiction of choice. I smoked about one pack a day until the early sixties.

I smoked through 3 pregnancies, by the grace of God with no apparent consequences to the babies. Then the revelation that it was hazardous to one’s health started to trickle out into the public consciousness. I remember we started calling cigarettes “coffin nails. I think I’ll have a coffin nail. Ha, ha,” We would say to our friends, not realizing this was no joke.

I read now that the link between tobacco and health problems was suspected in the 1930’s. The link to lung cancer was discovered and confirmed in Britain in the early 1950’s. Apparently the American cigarette companies did a really good job of keeping the information regarding the health effects of smoking to themselves and away from the public. Finally some surgeon general came out with the pronouncement in 1964 that cigarette smoking could cause lung cancer. Finally, our government took steps to make it much harder to be a smoker. But 10 years had passed since the British doctors had linked smoking with cancer and other deceases.

Quitting smoking was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. I did quit by 1964 or so. But when I came out in the 80’s I wanted the comfort of an old “friend” so I resurrected my old friend, cigarettes, and in no time at all was hooked again after two decades of not smoking. After a couple of cigarettes it was as if I had never stopped smoking for those 20 years.

Quitting smoking a second time was at least 2X harder than the first. In fact, it took several years of trying to stop before I was successful in staying quit—as they say.

I tried several different programs designed to help boost one’s resolve or scare one into quitting by relating all the horrors caused by habitual smoking. After struggling many times to quit I realized that what I hated most about smoking was my being dependent on something. Those darn things were controlling my life. My daily activities revolved around when I would have my next cigarette. I hated being controlled enough finally to say goodbye to the horrible things. How many packs of cigarettes did I buy, smoke one, destroy the rest of the pack in my resolve to quit, only to return to the store the next day or so to do it again. In those days a pack cost bout $1.25. That’s a lot of money for one cigarette.

I have seen friends of my age group with the same smoking history quit for a year or so, declare they can quit if they want to, and then return to smoking confident they can quit if they have to.

For one thing one year of no smoking is no where near long enough to be able to say you are free of the habit.

It is not only the drug nicotine that is addictive. Smoking quickly becomes a behavior addiction.

I think this is why it takes years and years to be free of the habit—long after all traces of the drug have left the body.

In my experience after five tobacco free years, I could say I was more or less safe from the danger of slipping back into the habit. As to the damage done to my body is concerned, I have no idea whether or not having smoked cigarettes for one quarter of my life will take a significant toll. But I have no doubt there must be some price to pay, hopefully insignificant. Did I benefit in any way from taking up the habit? That’s a no brainer. NO! Some say it’s pleasant to smoke. What that really means is that when the withdrawal from the drug begins to make you feel uncomfortable it feels pleasant to ward off the encroaching discomfort by lighting up once again.

Today the proven detrimental effects of smoking are known to almost everyone. Tobacco companies are held responsible for the harm their product causes in the U.S. Cigarette sales have plummeted in the U.S. in recent decades and young people do not seem to be taking up the slack and are choosing not to smoke.

Despite what is happening here big tobacco is thriving globally. Smoking rates in developing countries far exceed those here. Population growth and growing incomes contribute largely to the increasing rates of tobacco use in those countries. So cigarettes will continue to be produced and sold in growing amounts.

Because of my love affair with cigarettes I learned something very important about myself.

I learned to stay away from addictive substances of any kind. Once I had quit smoking I never ever wanted to go through quitting anything addictive again. For that lesson I am grateful.

© 15 August 2016

About the Author

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading, writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.