“Waking up to the sound of a machine breathing for you is quite disconcerting.”
After floating in and out of consciousness for the next couple of days, I finally became coherent enough for the Doctor on duty to render an expert opinion on what exactly was going on. Fortunately, he knew I wanted to have that information because I could not get enough breath to even ask for a diagnosis.
Starting with some rare form of pneumonia as the baseline for diagnostic criteria, I sensed none of my team of specialists had any clue what was really the issue.
To this day, I don’t know, but it is clear that when they drain seven litres of mystery fluid from your left lung over a nine day period with no explanation where it was coming from, that something is not right.
Pneumonia, as diagnosed, and completely unphased by the strongest antibiotics on the planet, likely is not the true culprit. I was told the only option since medicine wasn’t doing the trick, was surgery.
It seemed my only 50/50 chance would come with an incredibly invasive, and dangerous surgery involving an incision from the bottom of my shoulder blade to my under arm, breaking a rib or two, entering my left lung and completely removing the interior lining of that lung. Like a liver, an earthworm, or starfish it will regenerate itself.
As if by magic. Honestly I had visions of riding in on Joe Camel to rid the world of the Marlboro Man, then selling Joe to the glue factory.
Finally, after eight weeks in the hospital, and bills in the neighborhood of what might force Trump to file bankruptcy, I was allowed to go home, a happy, but sore ex-smoker.
For over eight months I resisted all urges, and the ache in my left lung reminded me I never wanted to smoke again. No, not even my beloved H. Uppmann’s.
Here is where it gets a little strange. My friend Autumn smoked two packs a day and drank her weight in alcohol on a regular basis with great consequence. When she decided she needed a change, she called me and I whisked her away to detox via the emergency room at the local hospital.
She would not be allowed to take her cigarettes and lighter so she gave them to me. While they secured her place, she and I waited outdoors so she could smoke before treatment.
Knowing she was full on, dedicated to her smoking, if I let the cigs or the lighter out of my hands, she would lift them and sneak them to detox with her. So I lit them for her and each time, by sheer instinctual habit, I inhaled.
And it hurt.
Eight hours later I was debating stealing one or two from a friend. A week later I had gone from sneaking in a few stealthy pulls, to rapidly losing the debate to buy a pack or not.
In the next six months, I smoked one cigarette a day up to the a threshold of a pack a day, half a lung short of breath.
So there it is. The insidious addiction that is nicotine combustibles.
My mind says I can do it and get away with it. The body won’t allow that to happen. Had it not been for finding e cigs four years ago, I likely would have continued to smoke myself into an earlier grave.
I have walked my path to where I need to be and have found a community who cares about life and living it.
I have walked through the normal path: Cig-a-likes
We will talk more about that soon, but for now, I’d invite you to share your story with us, and the rest of the world.
We’re on a mission, remember ?
Now go out there and #sponsorasmoker…
Right Now: Vaping: Ripe Vapes VCT .3mg / Mini SX / Aromamizer .5 .24g Twisted
Listening: Deftones: Gore
*editors note: This is the first in a series of posts highlighting how vaping has enhanced your quality of life.
We would love to hear your story, get in touch and so we can talk about featuring your experience on Ecigclick.