The Demon Weed

For some strange reason, smoking has been a recurring trend in my life recently. I quit smoking on September 30, 2005, a little more than a year ago. My primary reason for doing so was a statistic stating that children of smokers ran a 60% greater chance of dying of SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome) than the children of non-smokers. Of course, I quickly considered many ways that this statistic could have been misleading. For example, many smokers are lower income, which could connect to numerous other causes of SIDS. However, I knew that I was only making excuses, and that I needed to quit. So I stopped smoking roughly a week before the birth of my child.

I got Doc Shepherd, my friendly neighborhood GP, to give me a prescription for Welbutrin, which had helped me quit the other time I stopped (I stayed off for a year and a half that time). As he rarely did this, he wasn't sure about what he was doing, so (as I later learned), he underdosed me. While I was able to stop, it was a constantly-sweating, white-knuckled time that was only exascerbated by the arrival of the fruit of my loins, not to mention a timely visit from my in-laws.

Still, with the help of determination, medication, and the realization that my wife would castrate me if she smelled smoke on my clothes, I stopped. Over the next few months, as I spent a lot of time with my brand-new daughter, discovering a new love and rediscovering food, I put on over 25 pounds, which I'm still trying to lose. More to the point, I also discovered the return of my own super sense of smell, and my ability to detect a cigarette across a distance of roughly half a mile. Although the smell disgusts me, my disgust is tinged with a slight attraction (all in all, it's the same feeling I get from Tara Reid. Or Eva Braun.). However, I've now managed to go over a year without a cigarette, and I have no intention of smoking again.

I now get a little annoyed at smokers. I wish they wouldn't tempt me with their smoke, and I seem to remember being a little more courteous when I was in their shoes. However, I know exactly what's happening here, and I'm determined to avoid falling into the born-again nonsmoker trap. You see, as easy as it is to criticize smokers, we need to face the simple fact that our criticism, hatred, and snottiness not only don't make it easier for them to quit, but actually may goad them into continuing their habit. After all, what could be more satisfying than blowing some smoke into the face of a health Nazi who has just fake-coughed at you?

How could we make it easier for smokers to quit? Well, how about recognizing that quitting is among the hardest things in the world? As somone who's been through some pretty tough times, I have no problem stating that quitting smoking is the most difficult thing I've ever done. Some people say quitting smoking is as hard as quitting heroin. I disagree; for me, at least, quitting smoking was as hard as quitting air. Unlike heroin, cigarettes are available on every street corner. On a basic level, quitting smoking involved changing my life, my routines, my priorities, and even my personality. In fact, as I went through it, I had to wonder what part of myself wasn't fundamentally changing.

Another thing we could do would be to stop blaming the victims. Frankly, smokers are victims of their addictions. If you were to ask prospective smokers if they wanted to be reliant on cigarettes for their well being, I'm sure that most would say no. Frankly, by the time I was aware of the consequences of smoking, I was sucking down over a pack a day. Did I want to funnel my money into the pockets of Big Tobacco? Did I want to spend several years of my life inventorying my stash of cigarettes before every vacation, graduation, or other major event? Did I want to have to skip out of every family gathering to grab a cigarette? No, of course not!

Well, actually, I liked having an excuse to duck out of family gatherings. That's one of the things I really miss about smoking.

Another thing we might try is funding anti-smoking aids. The first time I quit, I had to pay over $100 a month for Zyban. Luckily, my insurance took care of the Welbutrin prescription the second time around. Still, if we really want people to quit smoking, why don't we pick up the tab? Even with the rising cost of cigarettes, I always found that it was more expensive to pay for the patch, nicorette, or other things that would help me quit. In the short term, it made more economic sense for me to stick with the coffin nails.

Finally, if we really think that cigarettes are killing people, doesn't it behoove us to make them illegal? Yes, we will need to up the subsidies to the tobacco farmers while they switch crops. Yes, we'll probably have to help the cigarette companies while they retool. And, yes, we'll have to change cigarettes into a controlled substance that can only be purchased with a prescription. However, if we all agree that these things are killing people, then why don't we make it impossible for sixteen year olds to get them?

And, until that great day comes, I call on all non-smokers to stop harassing their less-fortunate breathren. See smokers for what they are: society's last politically-correct scapegoat. They're what african americans used to be and what gays are in the process of un-becoming. They are our lepers, our sin-eaters, and our goats. They're the ones who make us feel better about our own shortcomings and crappy health. If that doesn't make them due for some serious appreciation, then I don't know what does.