sestree: (The Wild Granny (2007))
[personal profile] sestree
yes this is early -- I usually reserve this for March 24th but The Wild Granny may not be around then so you're getting it early

For those of you who have successfully quit smoking recently I applaud you. I'd name names but I'd miss someone. Just know I am so very proud of all of you. It's tough. Double tough. I know --- I quit March 24, 2002 and haven't looked back since.

For those of you who still choose to smoke, I feel honorbound by our friendship/acquaintance to let you know what you're in for: COPD, Emphysema, Lung Cancer.

I know first hand about COPD. I lost my grandfather's brother that way. I cared for other geriatrics who met their end through COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease), we lost [livejournal.com profile] pyllgrum's mother that way.

We are losing The Wild Granny from COPD and Emphysema (and other complications).

It's a sad horrible death. Eventually your lungs cannot bring in enough oxygen to sustain your body. At this point you face either basic suffocation or congestive heart failure or other non-wonderful deaths. The saddest point is the torture of struggling to breathe and not being able to.

Every day you don't smoke lessens your risk.

I don't ever discount how hard it is to quit. It's a real bitch. However it's much easier to quit than to face the end of your life attached to an oxygen bottle struggling for every.single.breath.

OK - y'all are safe til next year.......

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 01:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] reggiemental.livejournal.com
Well said love...and seconded.
There are debates on impossing on civil rights with the new smoking ban here in MD. I think its a great thing, especially if it helps move people to quit.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 01:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sestree.livejournal.com
Even if it doesn't stop some of the more dedicated smokers, I think the bans and price increases will stop many of the very casual smokers and deter the young ones from even starting.

It *is* a horrible way to go. I'm watching it daily.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 02:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] reggiemental.livejournal.com
Indeed. Last year, my Dad got a cold that turned into pneumonia and went to the hospital. It's happened before, so we all thought it was not big deal. Well, the pneumonia was in his "dead" lung (that he lost to emphysema years ago) and we were told that he would need to be placed in a nursing home with assisted breathing aperatus, etc. Dad declined. He was tired and disgusted with his physical being, so he made the choice not to go, let nature take its course and we supported it.

While watching him go was the most painful thing in my life to date, having those precious few days with him is something I will always cherish.

You and The Wild Granny are in my thoughts...

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 01:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dorei.livejournal.com
My FIL died from complications of emphysema. I say it that way because well, emphysema itself doesn't actually kill you. I suppose we're fortunate that it was renal failure that was his way to go because it's the least painful manner to die if you're going to die from disease. It doesn't make it easy on the relatives though, as they gather around your bed after the hospital staff had previously shooed your family out of the room, injected you with enough morphine to lose all awareness, and then removed your breathing tube. And then your family gets to stand around you and watch you as you struggle to get air in your lungs, each attempt more labored than the last. and while YOU feel no pain, your family is definitely feeling it for you.

My mother's death was less dramatic, I suppose. She was diagnosed with lung cancer in June of 2006. She went through her chemo like a champ, not ever seeming to let it bother her all that much. "I'm a little tired," is what she'd say. Maybe she was honest. She worked all the way through the end of January of 2007, right up until she fell and broke her hip. That's when we learned that the cancer had gone to her brain and she was gone two weeks later, dying quietly in her sleep with only her night nurse for company. I didn't get to say goodbye to her.

So, yeah. Sorry to be a downer. Must be the time of year.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 01:41 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sestree.livejournal.com
Yeah I got to answer the fun question yesterday "would your mother want to be on a ventilator or be resucitated?"

Charming. Of course she refused to tell them. *I* had to.

It's difficult. In her case she's really quite upset she can't do anything anymore and that particular temperfit is manifesting itself in her refusal to eat or drink or cooperate in her care. That led to an ugly bit of atrial fibulation (I know I spelled that wrong - sorry) yesterday and of course the advance directives questions which came later.

Don't worry about being a downer. It is the time of year and it's not been long for you either .... I still get misty over when I lost my grandmother and that's been 18 years this year.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 01:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dorei.livejournal.com
I'm so sorry you're going through this, too. It's the hardest and most painful thing I've ever experienced and I still cry over her a lot. More than I really want to.

I'll be thinking about you dearheart. I'm so so sorry.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 01:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sestree.livejournal.com
I'm actually quite fortunate (in a rather twisted logic way) that we knew what the end result would be. This isn't like someone who drops from a heart attack -- each time the oxygen had to be increased or steriods increased the days were numbered fewer than we'd wish.

The one thing I'm still rather pissed about is by her passive agressive attitude she's making an unconscious choice to shorten her life even further. I can't exactly fix that though.

Thank you. I didn't have to watch my father die. It's not something I wish to do with Mom either but I'd rather that than not be there.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 03:33 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] vyxenmacd.livejournal.com
My mom still smokes. With having emphysema, with an oxygen tank, with ... you get the picture.

Perhaps the Wild Granny and she are secret sorority sisters.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 04:01 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sestree.livejournal.com
They could easily be.

Mom would quit then start back up. She *did* successfully quit in 2003 I believe it was when she moved in with her parents. They wouldn't tolerate it.

If she would've quit 10 to 15 years ago she probably wouldn't be in quite the shape she is now.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 05:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 3fgburner.livejournal.com
I quit at 2130, on 9/18/1988. I lost my mother at 1545, 9/11/1999. She died of lung cancer, having been diagnosed at Stage IV in May. She went to the doc for a swelling behind her eye, and found out it was a metastatic tumor from her lungs.

I got chest X-rays every physical for a few years, and I seem to have dodged the bullet. If in fact I do get inoperable cancer, I ain't sticking around for the end. Before I get to the tube-in-my-d!ck / diaper-on-my-@$$ stage, I'll suck-start a pistol.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 06:07 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sestree.livejournal.com
OUCH --- that's rough.

Oddly enough I quit because I'm a cheapo. In that way the extra taxation helps. There are some of us who just say enough is enough.

I currently have a friend who has opted out for no more chemo. She's going to live til she dies -- at least that's the way she's putting it.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-02-13 06:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 3fgburner.livejournal.com
In my case it was pain. I started with a chest cold on Friday night. Went camping that weekend at a Civil War target shooting match (http://www.n-ssa.org). I was either smoking like a chimney, or inhaling black powder smoke, all weekend. By Sunday afternoon, I got home and hit the sack with the Mother of All Bronchitis Attacks. I'd roll up in a ball from the coughing, then unroll, light up, take a couple of drags, and roll back up in a ball with more coughing. That night, I was down to one cigarette in my last pack. I crunched up the pack, and threw away that last cig. Then, life sucked for two weeks. It was worth it.

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