Originally Posted by sandydandy
That's certainly how my dad was to me, although it was mixed with almost constant alcohol smell as well. He's only in his 50s and he's already down one lung.
My grandfather on my mother's side, who was an amazing person, university graduate in nuclear physics, on the board of safety for Ontario Hydro, and a polymath who could do anything, quit smoking at around age 40, and died in his 50s with a cancerous hole in his throat. It's the hardest death I've ever had to deal with, seeing this giant of a man who meant so much to my life, who was like 6'4 and 300 lbs and in his prime, reduced to a 150 lb wheezing slab of meat.
Smoking and alcohol have taken a LOT of people from my life. The majority of my family on my mother's side used to smoke but quit in the last decade or so. My dad's side, every SINGLE one, were or are chain smokers and also alcoholics; growing up and living in the poorest areas of St. John NB, known as the "cancer capital of Canada", where work is scarce, no doubt has a lot to do with it. Not a single family member before me graduated high school, never mind college. Every single family member from his side has died of some form of respiratory cancer or drank themselves to death first. Not only is it the reason why I don't smoke, it's also the reason I barely drink--during college I started down that slippery slope, drinking and partying every night, and one morning when I woke up in the middle of CLASS not remembering how I got there. And I was so terrified I'd end up like yet another "Culbert from New Brunswick" that I stopped drinking entirely for a good year or so. Now I only drink occasionally.
The same goes for smoking, even though I've never done it, I'm terrified I'm still going to end up with cancer because of that family history, and second-hand from my father and their constant, smoke-filled basement parties growing up. So, I suppose if there's one thing I'd say to help you quit, it's to think of your kids, and realize that even when you do your BEST to keep it away from them, it's still there.
When we did our Maritimes trip last fall, we went out for dinner with some of my family in St. John, and afterward, they took me to visit my dad's uncle Ronnie... And it was one of the most painful, awkward and sad things I've ever done. He was maybe 65, I think? Looked like a withered old husk, yellow-stained leathery skin, could barely talk after multiple throat surgeries, had some sort of colostomy bag setup going on, tubes coming out of his ribcage, sitting in a recliner in his filthy apartment watching WWE Smackdown. So out of his mind from chemo and early-onset Alzheimer's, after a life of chain-smoking and drinking.
The first thing he asked me, as he feebly shook my hand, having not seen me since I was maybe 10 years old, was "want a smoke?"
He died five days later, right around the time I was standing on the peaks of Meat Cove staring out over the Atlantic Ocean, enjoying nature and life. It could not have painted a more appropriate picture.
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