My father has smoked with a passion ever since he was 15 years old (now 70). He smoked a pack and a half per day at his prime . He even woke up in the middle of the night, made some coffee, smoked a cigarette, then went right back to sleep.
This is what a long period of smoking will do to you and those around you, written from my perspective.
- at 8 years old, I had to learn a new word. Cancer. By that time, I was seeing my father at the hospital more than at home. He had to remove a third of his lung. Leaving him with COPD ( chronic obstructive pulmonary disease). Never got the chance to do normal father son activities like play football/soccer with my dad after that. He stopped smoking for 2-3 months and then got right back into it.
- between 13-18 my father was going in and out of the hospital for pneumonia. This is where my teenage brain was forced to deal with adult stuff. Questions like “is he going to die today? Will he see me graduate? Will he be at my wedding?”. Every little thing made me anxious because I didn’t know how to process everything. Had panic attacks almost daily. Stopped smoking for a week or two here and there but still ended up picking it back up where he left off (1,5 packs).
- at age 20 I saw my first ever dead body. My father got a heart attack right next to me. If you’ve never seen someone get one then you can consider yourself blessed. The sounds still haunt me today. I had to be the one to call the emergency services and do chest compressions alongside my older brother. You can feel and hear ribs cracking during the compressions which is quite horrific. His heart stopped completely. He was out for 4 days in a coma at the hospital. Tubes sticking through his nose, mouth, neck, hands, legs and God knows where. He was hooked up on an ECMO and his body looked lifeless and swollen. The doctors told us that they can not predict the outcome. He might die, might become a vegetable, loose his memories or be completely normal. On the fifth day he woke up. You can imagine how excited we were. His first words to us were “I want to die”. He practically yelled this to us and the poor nurses/doctors. He was on a lot of medication and they kinda made him crazy. On the sixth day he was back to normal, just a lot weaker and felt guilty for being alive. People told to me that I saved his life, didn’t feel like it. He was out of the hospital after a few weeks and he had to take 9 medications for his heart because of heart failure, angia pectoris and his COPD.
After that he stopped smoking for a longer period. And let me tell you, he has never felt better. He felt more vigorous and alive. Probably the happiest I’ve ever been in years.
- a few months after the attack he got back to one or two cigarettes a day. This horrified me, but he wouldn’t listen. Said it was only three a day. He most likely returned because all of his friends smoke and they gave him one or two puffs here and there when he asked. Due to him picking smoking back up, he now had to take 12 medications. This drove him mad.
- one day he came back home from work. Barely able to catch his breath. I asked him what was wrong and he couldn’t even answer me. I called for an ambulance, something I now don’t even get nervous to do anymore. He got pneumonia again, but this time it really got him.
- After the treatment he was having immense pains throughout his body which traveled from the shoulders, down his spine, to his stomach and back up to his shoulders. No doctor or medication helped this mysterious condition. He cried out for help every night in that period. Didn’t stop him from smoking though. I didn’t sleep much either during this period, had to wake up or stay up to treat him or check up on him. I even treated my girlfriend harshly and lashed out at her even though she never did anything wrong.
- at age 21 his best friend died, heart failure. But unlike my dad he didn’t make it (even though he changed his bd habits). This left him with a lot of survivors guilt and began smoking even more. His condition was rapidly getting worse and worse. He became suicidal again but now it was an everyday thing. No amount of talking made him stop wanting to die.
- now, at 22, I had to clean his puke off the toilet today. Last month I drove him at 4 am to the hospital due to high fever and blood in his lungs. He can barely inhale the cigarette smoke, still he persist.
I’ve not even finished university and I’ve had to save, nurse and keep an eye on him and his conditions/medicine. I don’t hate him, I just wish he was different. Now my father has some crazy genetics and has survived this long. A lot of smokers don’t. So don’t expect to live to 70+ and live this comfortably. My father is very “healthy” for his habits and even the doctors are flabbergasted and call this a miracle (literally).
I hope this helped some of you reflect over smoking. Remember the torment you inflict upon yourselves and others. Is it really worth it?
