Just Stop

by Patsy Collins
^{(creative writers at www.morewriting.co.uk)}
My name is Matthew King; no one calls me that though. My parent’s called me Mattie right from the start, that’s what my wife, God rest her, called me too. The lads, when I joined up called me ‘Super’ on account of the super king sized cigarettes I’d smoke whenever I could get hold of them. That wasn’t often, usually it was roll ups, but you know the military, never let the truth get in the way of a good dit. Most often these days I’m called Gramps. That suits me just fine; I’m pleased that my daughter’s boy spends so much time with me. I don’t like it so much when me daughter uses the nickname too, cheeky girl that one. I love her though and young Jack, that’s why I eventually took notice of what she had to say.

It’s the smoking see, she never liked it, Julie didn’t. She was often on at me to quit. I didn’t take much notice. I thought it was just her cheeking me again. I was still a serving Royal Marine when she started on at me. Heard it was bad for your health she had. Of course, I didn’t believe it then, plenty of my Marine buddies smoked and there was nothing wrong with them. There were three of us used to hang about together quite a lot, Roadrunner who never touched a fag and ran marathons, mesself and Red. Red smoked a lot even by my standards and boxed for The Corps. We all reckoned he could have turned professional, but he wanted to serve his country. Got more medals than me and Roadrunner put together and I like to think we didn’t disgrace ourselves. There was that time in … but no, sorry; military battles aren’t what this story is about. This time I’m fighting a much trickier enemy.

I’d lost touch with Red until his wife tracked me down. The guy was in hospital, would I go visit him? Well of course I did. I’d heard that when he retired from the Marines he’d become a boxing coach. I’d expected him to have a broken jaw after pushing the next Amir Khan a bit too far. I was wrong. He was slowly dying from some problem with his lungs. He’d been in a bad way for a couple of years I learnt. Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease is what he had. It was caused by his smoking, and made worse with each fag he smoked after that. Red had on an oxygen mask and it took me a while to learn to understand his feeble wheezy way of talking. He could no longer smoke, he wasn’t strong enough to open a packet and strike a match even if they’d let him, but the cigarettes were still killing him. I asked the doctor what could be done

“Nothing for him now I’m afraid, except to keep him as comfortable as possible.”

“You mean once anyone’s got this COPD thing, they’re a gonna?”

“No. The lung damage is permanent, but if a smoker gives up then the condition won’t keep getting worse and with inhalers the symptoms can be improved. Your friend didn’t stop, so his condition continued to worsen. That needn’t happen to you though.”

Right, I thought, I don’t want a slow lingering death, I’m quitting.

Thinking and doing aren’t the same though, are they? I’ve been smoking for more than fifty years. That’s a mighty big habit to break. I did try, but I’d find that I’d be sat in front of the telly with a lit fag in my hand without realising what I’d done.

You’ll realise that seeing Red like that upset me, I didn’t let that stop me visiting him though. I felt guilty in a way, quite a few of the fags he’d smoked had been mine. I used to get him a few cartons of duty free whenever I went abroad too. I didn’t know, not then, how dangerous they were. Well, I kidded myself, but there were warnings, even my little girl knew the truth.

Anyway, I had some good news after that. It was young Jack, just fourteen and he’d been down the armed forces careers office to ask to join the Royal Marines. Of course, they didn’t let him, told him to come back next year and apply. They gave him leaflets and one of those new fangled DVD things though, so he could start to prepare.

“I’m going to do everything they said, Gramps,” he told me. “I want to be a hero, just like you.”

Well I don’t know about hero, but I certainly felt damn good to hear he was proud of me and that he was planning to follow in the family tradition.

“I’m going to work at my English and Maths, to make sure I pass the entry test, I’m going to get really fit and I’m going to learn all about The Royal Marines history, because I’ve heard they ask you that on the interview.”

“I’ll help you, Jack,” I promised.

I didn’t mean the schoolwork, but I was sure I could help with training, as for the history, well crikey, hadn’t I made some of it? It wasn’t that easy though. I showed the lad a couple of press ups and I was coughing so much I couldn’t tell him what to do. I timed his laps running round the park, but I had to sit on a bench ‘cause I was wheezing so much from the walk over there.

Then Julie called me.

“I’m worried about Jack.”

Well, that got my attention right away.

“He’s started smoking.”

I think I’ve said I didn’t take much notice when she said she wanted me to stop, but this was different. She was right to be worried about her boy and I now realised she was right to worry about the fags too. I told her to come round and we’d talk about it.

She did most of the talking.

“Smoking reduces your life expectancy by about ten years and most smoking related deaths aren’t quick, you can suffer for years first.”

I thought of Red and knew she was right.

“About 106,000 people die from smoking, that’s every year and just in the UK, Dad.”

“We’ll not let Jack be one of them.” I promised.

She told me she’d had a row with the lad about his smoking, so I suggested he come to me for a bit; see if he’d listen to me.

Whilst he was there, I made a real effort to cut back and gradually let him see the truth about smoking. I couldn’t really tell him not to do it though, not when I did myself.

I took him to see Red, that did it. The doctor had another go about my smoking and got on to Jack. The lad was worried about me I could tell. The doc gave us some leaflets on giving up, that’s when it hit me. We could give up together, as a team, we’d stand a better chance and I’d really be doing something to help him.

We didn’t go straight home, first off, we booked ourselves in for a go at the ‘stop smoking clinic’ then we took Jack to his Mum. We knew it was going to be a hard fight and decided we shouldn’t wait until we were in trouble before calling for reinforcements.

“That’s fantastic news,” Julie said and hugged both of us when we said we were quitting.

“We have to work out a plan of campaign,” I said.

First, we got to know the enemy. We read the stuff the doc gave us, and the stuff the health centre dished out and the stuff Julie looked up on the internet. Nicotine is the stuff that gets you hooked, it stimulates the brain and giving up creates withdrawal symptoms, cravings, headaches, anger, poor concentration. I knew I’d be getting problems that way, my body was used to a considerable daily dose. I knew about the tar that clogs up your lungs. I didn’t know the stuff could get into your blood and be carried around the body though. I didn’t realise that smoke contained over 4000 chemicals. 50 are known to cause cancer and some of the others are known poisons, I suppose there’s a good chance that some of the others aren’t doing me any good. I don’t like to think of all that stuff being pumped round young Jack’s body.

I’ve found out that it’s not just your lungs that come in for a pounding; of the 120,000 UK deaths from heart disease one in seven are due to smoking. Cancers of the mouth and gullet, throat, nose and larynx are all more likely in smokers. Makes sense that there’d be affected, I suppose, when you think about it. Worse though is that it can get into your blood, I’d heard of leukaemia, but didn’t know it was cancer of the blood, or that the poisons can make cancer more likely in other places too. Of course, non smokers can get cancer too, but why increase the risk? That’d be like loading the enemy’s guns for them!

It’s not just poison in the blood you have to worry about, even the circulation system can be damaged and that leads to all kinds of trouble. Then there’s sexual problems, I don’t want to go into details with me daughter and grandson sat here, but let’s just say it’s something to avoid if possible. I’d like a great grandchild and to be round long enough to see him or her.

Smokers age faster, you’ve only got to look at me stood next to my mate Roadrunner to know that’s true. He runs marathons, I watch him on telly. I don’t have a new lady friend to help with training either, but we’re back to stuff I don’t want to talk about in front of the kids. Actually, I don’t want to talk to them about macular degeneration, gum disease, psoriasis or tuberculosis either. There’s a huge list of stuff that’s made more likely or made worse by smoking. I’m real glad Julie never smoked when I see all the pregnancy related problems that can result from smoking.

After all that, Jack and I are keener than ever to give up. Can we do it, I wonder for a moment. Of course we can, we have too, so the next question is how.

“The clinic you’ve booked into should help a lot,” Julie says. “They’ll be able to give you plenty of advice and prescribe patches or gum if you want them.”

“I think I’ll need them. Is there anything else we can do?”

“Well there seem to be lots of other ways to get nicotine. Sprays and tablets, things like that, so you won’t have to fight the withdrawal symptoms, but that’s just the start. You’ve got to get out the habit. Tell everyone you’ve stopped, so they don’t offer you cigarettes. Hopefully they’ll remind you, if you’re tempted to smoke.”

“Roadrunner will, that’s for sure.”

“Good and remove temptation. Get rid of any cigarettes you’ve got left and all your ashtrays and lighters. You won’t be able to smoke at home then, not without a bit of effort.”

“Good idea, I found it’s easy to light up without thinking, but I’ve got lots of lighters and things, it seems a waste to throw them out, I’ll ask around, see if anyone wants them.”

“If you know anyone you want to get cancer then give them your lighters and encourage them to carry on.”

“Hey!” I was just about to say that wasn’t fair, then I remembered how I felt about the fags I’d given Red.

“I’ll see if the museum are interested in the oldest ones and I’ll chuck out the rest.”

Jack produced his lighter and put it in the bin. I did the same with the one in my pocket and the almost full packet of cigarettes. Then we went round my house and found every lighter and ashtray. Julie was determined that I had no excuse for giving up on the giving up.

All this was a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been to the clinic a few times and I got them patches. I tried the gum, but that was awful stuff. I’ve spoken to other people who reckon it works for them though. I suppose it’s just a bit of trial and error really to see what you get on with. Jack didn’t need anything like that, lucky for him he hadn’t got addicted. I reckon he’ll do well in the Corps. He doesn’t follow everyone else, he leads by example. He took some info on the diseases you can get from smoking to show his mates.

“None of them are cool,” he told ‘em and I think they must have agreed, ‘cause he says that they never smoke around him now. Perhaps some of them have given up too. Hope so.

I’ve got a new nickname down the pub now. Instead of ‘Super’ for the superkings, Roadrunner started calling me ‘Nosmo.’ You gotta feel sorry for anyone who asks what it means.

“No Smo –King,” I explain and then I give them the full story.