| Carla's Story |
Just Thought You Should Know Why I Quit Smoking
November, 1994: My father was diagnosed with lung cancer. I was very close to my father, he was my friend and Dad for 34 years. My stepmother broke the news, and we cried. I felt hopeless and devastated. My father was the only parent I had, he handled the news better than I did.
My father immediately quit smoking. I wanted to also, I was disgusted with myself for not quitting. Every day my father would ask "When are you going to quit smoking?" or, "Are you going to keep smoking until you get cancer?" I wish now I had quit smoking with my father.
I took them to the doctor's appointments. At the hospital, I heard him yell when the technician stabbed him in the back 3 times with a long needle to get a lung sample, and missed. I took him again when they operated to retrieve a lung sample. The chances for survival after 5 years, with treatment, was 30 percent. I tried so hard to keep positive.
My stepmother kept working to keep the insurance. I continued taking my father to the doctor, then to chemo, and finally radiation. The chemo was not effective, the radiation caused the dreaded 'radiation flu'.
Things became very difficult for my stepmother and I, he refused to cooperate. We could not understand his stubborness. He would not answer his door, I brought his best friend along so he would let us in and to help me get him out of bed. Sometimes, halfway to the treatments, he would demand I take him home, "I don't feel like going!" I still kept smoking.
Life became even more difficult. My family were given 30-day notice to move out of our home of 7 years. The search for another rental house proved nearly impossible, nothing was open. We looked for rentals in the neighboring counties. I continued taking my father to his appointments. I became angry one day when he decided he did not feel like going. I yelled, "There won't be a next time!" I was uptight about finding a home, I had nothing to look at and we were now in eviction proceedings. My stepmother fell ill and could not work, her doctor's written excuse did not prevent her boss from firing her.
This all seemed too much to handle. I was drained spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. Hospice was called in to take care of father. We were forcefully evicted. FOr 4 1/2 weeks we stayed with friends, relatives, and motels. We found an old house in the next county, we joked about the excellent ventilation and the stylish turn-of-the-century interior.
Within the month, we sadly began my father's 'death watch'. On the morning of September 16, 1995, my stepmother called me, "If you want a chance to see him before he dies, you better come over today." I called my friend for a ride, our car would surely have broke down. Three hours after I arrived, my father died. I'm glad I was there to say goodbye. I kept smoking.
My father did not want an expensive funeral. "Cheap is fine, just dump me in a vacant lot. What do I care? I won't need it anymore." I acted as the 'funeral director'. With lots of help from the wonderful people at Hospice, I completed, certified, and submitted all the required forms to government.
The next morning my stepmother and I picked up the cardboard coffin from the mortuary. It was so long that stuck out the back of my car's hatchback! We had to tie the lid down with only thing available, a set of jumper cables. We burst out laughing, having calling him "Sparky" in life.
The friends and family gathered together, listened to the music he wanted played, sat around the living room for several hours, reminiscing, sharing stories, laughing. We colored and wrote our goodbye on the cardboard box. The next day, we gathered again and took his body to cremation. I kept smoking.
November 9, 1996 My husband, 39 years old, had a heart attack. He was in intensive care for 10 days. This compelled him to quit smoking, the hospital stay and morphine relieved his desire for cigarettes. After he came home he never smoked again. Within a month he was scheduled for quadruple by-pass surgery.
I still smoked, but not in the house or around my husband. He did not notice the cigarette stench around me anyways, years of smoking had killed his sense of smell. I finally had clear thoughts and hopes about quitting smoking, but not right now, not under this much stress. I planned to quit while my husband was in the hospital for the by-pass.
I asked my doctor for help, he gave me some free samples of the patch, a two week supply. I had not yet quit when my husband came home from the hospital. This would be only my second attempt to quit, I quit once for two weeks years ago. But this time I was determined to quit, I just had to stop smoking, look at what it had done to my loved ones.
Most importantly, I did not want to be a smoker any more. That first week on the patch, I smoked about 12 cigarettes. One day I was carefully removing the patch from my skin while I puffed a cigarette in my mouth, I thought "Duh, is this stupid or what?" I would not quit smoking unless I stopped lighting up, period. That second week was extremely difficult, but I was resolved to quit. I was so close! I needed to wake up and do something each time I got the urge to have just one smoke. The triggers were difficult to get through, mine were the first cup of coffee and after eating.
When I ran out of patches, I called my doctor for more. While I was talking to him, I decided to go for the lowest dosage patches. After hanging up, I felt excited about my decision, I was really moving forward with this thing. The new patches gave me cramps in my stomach, neck, and shoulders. The patches were stale, 4 months past expiration! I figured those old patches were delivering the nicotine all at once. I threw them away, and have been a non-smoker since.
I smoked for 20 years, I knew it was bad for me. But little do people know how strong the addiction is. Especially kids, most kids that smoke become addicted. How many people do you know started smoking at 18? If I can quit, so can you. Just thought you should know.
Love, Carla
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