The Last (Ciggie) Hurrah

March 2008 Diary Entry:

It’s been months since the Last Confession, or the Chest X-Ray scare; I’m still smoking.

I think about quitting once a day. This thought should be inspired by the health hazards, but it’s based on finances. I burn money each time I light up. Federal governments earn gobsmacking tax revenue from nicotine sales, and use funds to establish and support anti-smoking lobbies to offset the tobacco curse. It’s like being fucked in the ass without lubricant. If you call the Quit Line, you’re doing something great, fantastic even, and it is positive.

I haven’t called the Quit Line. The idea of speaking to a customer service-like officer about my smoking habits unnerves me. It’s all so corporate. Much like work…waiting for a faceless person to answer. What if they’re not ex-smokers? What if they’ve never smoked in their entire life? How will they understand the shit I’ve gotten myself into?

“Welcome to Quit Line. This is Helen, how can I assist you?”
“I smoke.”
(D’oh)
“Hello? Did I mention that I smoke?”
“How many cigarettes do you smoke per day?”
“A packet.”
“How many in a packet?”
“Twenty five.”
(OMG)
“Hello?”
“Yes. Twenty five?”
“Yes.” (And?)
“You’ve made a good decision.”
“I’m undecided.”
“Undecided? Well, this is a good step.”
“I’ve tried it ten times.”
“Smoking?”
“Quitting.”

Really, I’ve lost count.

I’ve never called the Quit Line. I have no plans on requesting additional assistance. Discussing my Achilles heel is on par with farting in an elevator. It’s something you don’t do.

A year later and down to my final three cigarettes, I decided to chain smoke them on the toilet. The events leading up to my decision to quit the cigarette weren’t based on any horrific medical conditions (Why wait that long?). Even as I anticipated the next few days, weeks and months without nicotine, I knew that there would be no guarantee of escaping a smoking related illness. I have been a smoker for more than twenty years. Most of my life; I’ve served a life sentence funneling smoke into my lungs.

Recently, I surfed the web and arrived at a web page advertising the latest therapies offered by Big Pharma. On the web page, the visitor (or smoker) is prompted to enter the starting date and daily cigarette intake into the online calculator. My result didn’t shock. I expected something higher than the incredible total. 100,000 cigarettes: 4340 packets of twenty five cigarettes since the age of nine. Yes, I was nine years old when I sneaked my first cigarette.