Who knew my eight year old daughter was prophetic? I certainly didn’t, not that day. That day was the day, about 21 years ago, when I finished my cigarette in the garage, returned to the house through the utility room and found a drawing of a tombstone with my name on it taped to the door. I asked my daughter why she’d drawn that, and she said that because I wouldn’t quit smoking, I would never live to see her get married. Whoa. That certainly gave me pause. But just a pause. Yes, the drawing (and my daughter’s feelings) gave me pause, but...the cigarettes gave me nicotine. Oh, I tried to quit. Over and over and over. Nicotine patches, which gave me nightmares and rashes on my arm. Nicotine gum, which I then became addicted to along with the cigarettes. Wellbutrin, which was working great until I broke out in hives. Chantix, which made me so nauseous I couldn’t take it long enough to quit. Even society seemed to want me to quit. No smoking at work, not even on the grounds or in your car. No smoking in restaurants, and finally, no smoking even in bars. No smoking within 10 feet of a door. Even that old ‘smoker camaraderie’ was disappearing, considering there were fewer of us all the time. But still I continued to smoke. Though I smoked far less these days, I had planned to finally quit when I retired and my husband and I relocated to the Pacific Northwest. We moved into our house in the woods that my husband built, in a creative little hippie town surrounded by natural beauty. I planned to write, and hike, and commune with nature, now that my life was free of job constraints. I needed to quit smoking so I could increase my stamina and climb those uphill trails to those beautiful places. Also, I had yet to meet a fellow smoker anywhere in the neighborhood. I decided I would just confine my smoking to my back patio, where only the squirrels, birds and deer knew my dirty little secret. (In fact, the deer learned when to show up and beg for treats. All they had to do was sniff that cigarette smoke in the air, and they knew I'd be outside.) Yes, I was going to quit soon. It’s not a good fit to live in "organic land", surrounded by people with healthy lifestyles, while I’m puffing on Marlboros. I needed to quit, dammit, and I would. Maybe next week. Okay, well, that’s not a good time, probably the following week. Or...soon. While my family had given up on encouraging me to quit, apparently the universe had not. Outside an Earthship in Taos, New Mexico, on a cold and beautiful desert starry night, the universe gave me a first "taste" of what my future might be. It wasn't good. I was there with my best friend, two of my sons and their wives. On our last night in the weird and wonderful Earthship before moving on to Santa Fe, the rest of the gang was inside playing a last card game. I went outside for a cigarette. The sky was beautiful, but the air was icy cold. No doubt the cold, along with the elevation and the effect it had on my breathing--I could barely walk half a block without having to stop and try to catch my breath--all combined to create a perfect storm for my lungs. I couldn't finish the cigarette without coughing, so I gave up and went back inside. As soon as my face hit the warm, humid air of the earthsnip's greenhouse that you walk through to get in, it felt as though my lungs had filled up partway with something. I made an excuse and went right to bed. I didn't know what the issue was, but I was terrified. I was terrified because the overwhelming thought I was having (and had been having for months) was this: I smoked for too many years, I now have lung cancer, I'm going to die, and it's my own damn fault. And if that was the case, my daughter was, indeed, prophetic. How perfect, that I was in New Mexico, when things began...breaking bad. (Part 2 coming next week)
0 Comments
|
AuthorDonna J. Abear is the author of a children's play SPRUCEY, THE BLUE CHRISTMAS TREE, a memoir RELATIVELY CRIMINAL, and a humor book MOM…YOU’RE NOT NAKED, ARE YOU?. Married, mother of four, grandmother of two, and a “dog mom” too, she is living her dream in the Pacific Northwest among the trees and wildlife she loves. Archives
December 2024
Categories
All
|