Believe it or not I have never had a single drag on a cigarette, and I am so thankful for that. I grew up in a home filled with smoke… both parents smoked; my mom was a heavy chain smoker. I remember going on car trips in the winters encased in the car with all the smoke my parents produced. Every once in a while, they would crack a window for a little fresh air.
As I got older, I had allergies flare and they took notice of when I was having issues and did stop smoking as much. Then one day out of the blue my Dad just up and quit. He never had any tobacco until the day he became a grandfather and then he picked up a pipe again. Mom was a different story.
I recall many times she tried to quit but would last only a matter of hours before she was getting frustrated and short tempered and would demand Dad go to the store to get her a carton. That all changed when she landed in the hospital for stomach problems, and they discovered emphysema… she was put on oxygen 24/7 and never smoked again for the rest of her life.
My sister smoked, my in-laws, my boyfriend… I should have enough second-hand smoke to make up for never having a single drag. I will admit to a couple of hits of nicotine when I tried a vape a couple of times. Having watched so many people struggle with tobacco, I am happy I never did have that habit.
Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – tobacco
It has been kind of a long week. Well maybe more of a long month, but this last week was trying. I love Dad to pieces but I kind of draw the line at fire. I can’t recall a time in the past when I have seen him smoke so much. Cigarette after cigarette, light after light, dropped cigarette and flame. The number of consecutive cigarettes seems to be climbing and yesterday I had to put out a small “fire” on the blanket he had over his lap… maybe left a golf ball sized hole behind.
I have talked to my sister about this and we both think he needs to stop at night. The trouble is she left it to me to break this news to him. I did try last night when I brought him his new carton of cigarettes and he said it sounded like a good idea, but 2am rolled around and he was lighting one up again. The offending “fire” came from a cigarette lit when he wasn’t fully awake yet and dozed off in his chair again. I can only watch him so close and he starts to feel like I am staring at him. I know this is a long shot, but I really don’t want to die in a fire. I don’t want him to die in a fire. I don’t want a fire at all… unless it is in a grill and we have steaks on!
Something has to give. The number of cigarettes has to come down at least cutting out the night ones. At 82 I think he knows the facts well enough about the damages the cigarettes can cause (and he has COPD), but he also has to realize he is shaky now and the cigarettes do fall out of his hands. I really would prefer he just went back to smoking his pipe again… at least that smelled nice. But he needs a little bit of his own freedom to decide. In the meantime I will keep the fire extinguisher handy and sniff for smoke every so often.
Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – number