Giving up smoking?

Batten down the hatches, board up your windows, bolt the doors and grab your panic buttons folks, because things are going to get rough!

No, this isn't a warning that crime is on the increase, nor is there any (certified) truth in the rumour that the Sedgefield Macramé Guild members are embarking on a street collection.  No, it is infinitely worse than even that.  Something more terrifying than a tidal wave, more dangerous than a dagga-crazed Doberman, more blood-curdling than a Greatest Hits of Barry Manilow  CD….

Mrs Ed is giving up smoking!

Yes I agree!  Why was there no warning?  Why was there no state of emergency declared?  Why have the UN Peace-Keeping forces not landed?  

Well if YOU feel scared, imagine how I feel!  I realise I should be in hiding, but I shall soldier on bravely and try my hardest to get this column done. (You will have to excuse me, however, if I perhaps break into a whisper every now and then… And if I disappear for a while it means I've had to break into a gallop in an effort to escape…. And if I disappear permanently, well, get the authorities to 'drag' the lagoon like they do in CSI Miami, and I'm sure my body will eventually be recovered.)

But enough about my seemingly limitless courage (though I do thank you for the compliment);- let's get back to the story at hand. 

In my opinion it is a sincerely dangerous time we are living in, and with hospital and health care costs as they are, looking after one's well-being is something I take very seriously, particularly with regard to the medical complications associated with smoking.  In fact you may be pleased to hear that I am campaigning for cigarette manufacturers to start printing a health warning on each box….

  What?  No I am NOT behind the times, and yes, I understand that there are already warnings boldly emblazoned on each box, but those are, for the most part, aimed at the smokers themselves, aren't they?   And let's face it, by now they must already be pretty aware of the risks.

So what  am I talking about?   (So kind of you to ask).

I am talking about the real dangers associated with smoking. ie:-

a) Being within a 400m radius of someone who is giving up

b) Suggesting to someone that she should give up (including  the purchase-power of the potential  R30 per box per day savings.)

c) Hiding cigarettes from someone who is in the process of giving up. (especially if she has access to sharp kitchen utensils)

d) Enjoying an innocent, no harm done, 'social smoke' whilst out having a beer, then returning home (along with your apparently disgusting 'ash-tray' breath) to someone who has recently given up.
Now those are the REAL dangers.  I should know.

Some of you (those who are old enough) may remember me saying back in 1999 that Mrs ED and I had given up smoking at around the same time.  Of course it was a time of great suffering and pain - mostly for me.  Why?  Was my addiction that much stronger?  No, in fact just the opposite:-  I managed to kick the habit reasonably easily. 

Mrs Ed, on the other hand, crawled into bed for four days and sobbed.  Honestly,  I haven't seen her that emotional since The Village People split up.

But the real pain and suffering came once she had emerged from her pit, and realised that I wasn't… suffering that is. 
“It's just not fair!” she would bellow, hurling a medium-sized piece of lounge furniture in my direction. 
“You are doing that just to taunt me!” she would howl when I showed the slightest hint of a smile during the first post giving up months.
“I can hear you teasing me in Morse code!” she would scream if I so much as hummed a little ditty whilst picking up the regular pile of broken crockery.

But eventually it did get better.  After a few months my son even started sleeping inside, though he did lock his bedroom door.  Slowly but surely we returned to normal family life.  Well, OUR normal family life.  Of course Mrs Ed became the worst ever reformed smoker, especially when she was joined by her sister, also a recent smoke-stopper.  Barely a day would go by when they weren't waving some sort of 'Give up now' banner in the face of their long suffering (and long puffing) father, one of the last bastions of the Smokers' League.
“It is so disgusting, don't you know that our children are in a 30km radius?  And here's you  lighting up like it's only your lungs that are being damaged!” They would observe whilst staring lustfully at his glowing Peter Stuyvesant.  I think he suffered more from ear damage than anything else.

Of course I soon realised that my giving up smoking had been comparatively easy, so it stood to reason that I could do it any time -  give up, that is.  So I started social smoking.

No, it's not the same.  For those of you who don't know, social smoking isn't really smoking at all, it's simply joining someone else for a smoke - like a tobacco companion - so he or she doesn't feel like a social outcast.  You see us social smokers are a most kindly group of people who can't bear to think of anybody suffering alone. So we help share their burden. We'll generously smoke alongside normal smokers in a pub, at a braai, over breakfast, in a car, at the office, even standing next to their beds whilst they are sleeping:- we sacrifice ourselves to the smoking community.

It definitely isn't real smoking, because us social smokers don't buy our own cigarettes.

Honestly!   Sometimes I  feel so desperately sorry for someone walking on the road with a smoke hanging out his mouth, that I will stop him and ask for one, out of the goodness of my heart, just so he doesn't feel so alone.  I'm just that kind of guy.  Of course one has to be careful how you ask.  The other night I found myself standing next to a particularly burly smoker at the pub, dressed in a blue Bulls supporter's jersey.   I thought  'Shame, he must really feel like an outcast,” so I put my arm around his shoulders (in that camaraderie way us social smokers have), smiled sweetly up at him and said "Fag?".
   
He hit me. 

But back to Mrs Ed.  Unfortunately she doesn't have the willpower to social smoke.  It's only us real strong people who can manage that. For the twelve years since she gave up, Mrs Ed wouldn't, and couldn't, go near a cigarette -  she did not want  to go through that ordeal again.  The family, nay the entire neighbourhood, did not want her to go through that ordeal again.
 
And so for over a decade everything went smoothly…. until (cue eerie music) The Weekend Away! Just over a year ago, Mrs Ed and her sister embarked on a road trip.  I think they were taking their broomsticks in to be serviced… or their pointed hats for a wax… or something.  But when they returned?  They smoked.  It was as simple as that.  Somewhere along the road one of them must have had a 'drag'  and that was it.  Hooked for life. 

Again. 

They left like Thelma and Louise - sucking in lungsfull of fresh air…. and returned in a car full of smoke, like Gorillas in the Mist.

I was totally thrown, of course.  It put so much pressure on my social smoking  campaign, I was up to twenty 'socials' a day in no time (I reiterate:- we social smokers cannot bear to see anyone smoking alone). 
But now she's decided to give up. I think it's the hacking cough that's been the deciding factor -  she says I'm keeping her awake.  Of course I sat with her one evening  - well actually it wasn't quite 'with her' … (it was more over the phone if the truth be told)  and bravely pointed out that by saving R30 a day that would be R210 a week, R840 a month, R10 080 a year!  She was quite taken.
“That's enough for a three week camping holiday,” she said thoughtfully.
“EXACTLY!” I answered.

So the giving up date is set for next Tuesday, and despite the impending vicious mood swings, violent tempers and threats of physical violence, I am not scared at all.  Why should I be?  I 'm pretty sure she will have recovered by the time I get home from my three week camping trip!