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Why and How I Quit Smoking
I don't remember the day I started smoking, but I do remember why. My husband smoked. When we kissed, he tasted like a full ashtray smells. I started smoking so that that wouldn't bother me so much, but I knew better.
I don't remember the day I started smoking, but I'll never forget the day I stopped. On June 2, 1986, I dumped the worst habit I have ever had. Was it worth it? You bet. I no longer have pneumonia every year. Though bronchitis still bothers me on occasion, and I have chronic asthma, most of the time I can breathe without trouble. Best of all, my husband quit, too, within a month of the date that I quit. We have had a smoke free home for more than 20 years, and we have both benefitted from it.
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Learning to smoke was difficult for me. I had so many reasons not to, that I really had to push to get it done. After years and years of second hand smoke exposure, my health began to deteriorate immediately. By the end of the first year, I had chronic bronchitis. Cigarettes became a crutch. If life was stressful, I smoked. If I was ill, I smoked. If everything was great, I smoked. My habit was so bad, I couldn't drive down the street or cook a meal without smoking. The first thing I did in the morning was light a cigarette. The last thing I did at night was put one out. We have also translated parts of this composition into French and Spanish to facilitate easier understanding of bronchitis heart murmur. In this way, more people will get to understand the composition.
After gathering all the cigarettes I had, I went to the kitchen and carefully destroyed each one, then dropped it into the trash can. By evening I was suffering, but I refused to buy more. Later, I learned my brother-in-law had just quit smoking. He told me to buy salted, roasted sunflower seeds in the shell. Dwelving into the interiors of bronchitis heart murmur has led us to all this information here on bronchitis heart murmur. bronchitis heart murmur do indeed have a lot to tell!Dwelving into the interiors of bronchitis heart murmur has led us to all this information here on bronchitis heart murmur. bronchitis heart murmur do indeed have a lot to tell!
After smoking for five years, I thought I was doomed to be a lifetime smoker just like my parents. Then something frightening happened. I fell asleep in my chair with a lit cigarette in my hand. Unlike many others who died after they went to sleep with a burning cigarette, I was fortunate. I wasn't hurt. Not physically, anyway. It was with great relief we ended writing on bronchitis heart murmur. There was just too much information to write, that we were starting to lose hopes on it's completion!
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Soon, clothes with tiny circles burned into the fabric became the norm. I couldn't breathe easily if I walked further than out to my car. I couldn't play ball with my children; I didn't have the breath. Many times I decided to quit. And I would, for two or three hours. By the end of the second year, I had had three bouts of pneumonia.
All through high school, P.E. and health teachers preached the deleterious effects of tobacco smoke on the body. Television, newspapers, magazines, doctors, and the Surgeon General all reported that cigarette smoking caused cancer, emphysema, and many other health problems. I didn't need to hear or read their stories. Both my parents have smoked since their teens. I saw firsthand what smoking does to the smoker.
I was terrified. If I had not wakened from the smell of burning fabric, I might have died, or at least been badly burned. The new skirt I was wearing had eight holes burned through it. The folds of fabric had protected my skin until I awoke. When I realized that I had risked my life, and ruined a brand new skirt, anger replaced the terror I felt--anger at myself.
Nicotine stained fingers, face, and teeth are just the beginning. Besides the offensive smell, there is the layer of nicotine that stains everything in the smoker's home:, furniture, walls, carpets, everything. On several different occasions, both my parents were extremely sick with illnesses directly attributable to smoking, eventually culminating in lung cancer for my dad. Cigarettes were so important to them, that they budgeted the smokes in with groceries. If money was tight, we ate beans and potatoes, but they never did without cigarettes. I promised myself in my teens that I would never smoke. I broke that promise sometime in the summer of 1981.
Linda Pogue is the webmaster of http://www.momsredkitchen.com where she regularly posts information about kitchen products, reviews cookbooks, and shares family recipes.
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