Mid July 2012 (part 1)

I arrive at the appointment about a week later. The nurse carries out a number of tests.
 
Bad news. One of tests reveals that I have the lung function of a man thirty years older than I actually am.
 
‘I’m not very good at blowing out quickly,’ I say, hoping the nurse will repeat the test.
 
She smiles. A sort of knowing-smile. ‘We did the test three times.’
 
‘What happens now then?’
 
‘Stop smoking.’
 
‘I’ve tried before. It’s too difficult.’
 
That same knowing-smile. ‘Make an appointment for the Quit Smoking Clinic.’
 
 
***
 
At the Quit Smoking Clinic, the Health Practitioner discusses the options. If I want her help, I must agree on a Quit Date and stick to it. That means I will never be able to smoke again.
 
What about cutting down gradually? That could work, couldn’t it? No, she says. I must stop smoking completely. During the early stages, she’ll prescribe Nicorette, free of charge. Meanwhile, I will need to attend appointments on a regular basis, so that she can assess my carbon monoxide levels to check I haven’t smoked.
 
‘Could you prescribe anything today?’
 
‘I don’t think you’re ready. Make an appointment at Reception.’
 
 
***
 
The receptionist books me in for the following week, a Monday. When I leave the Medical Centre, I make the decision: quit. I need to stop smoking for the sake of my health.
 
I’m fully aware of the damage caused by years of heavy chain smoking. Each morning, I wake up with a productive cough - the standard smoker’s Morning Cough. Most mornings, I vow to cut down. Reduce my cigarettes by half. Or give up completely, even. I’ve smoked since I was a boy. I understand the biology behind the Morning Cough - what it signifies - yet my resolutions fail. Each day, I smoke between thirty-five to sixty cigarettes, most of them in the late afternoon and evening. I’ve smoked during pneumonia, flu, and in the recovery stages of septicaemia. I’ve done things I’m ashamed of when I’ve been unable to afford cigarettes, desperate for that fix.
 
Seven days’ time, I decide as I wait for the traffic lights to change colour. Monday, my quit date. Till then, I will smoke as many cigarettes as I want.