Tuesday, September 10, 2013

My Father's Cigarettes


I was 16 years old when my Dad had his first heart attack.  Growing up on a farm, I knew about life and death, but I didn’t think it applied to my father.  This was really scarey.  We sat in the hospital room worrying, when a doctor appeared at the door. 
“Hello, I’m Dr. so and so and I’m the chief of cardiology at this hospital.  I’m going to be working with you.”  After the formalities, they started talking.  Then he spied something on my father’s nightstand.  “Are those your cigarettes?”
“Yes, I’ve been smoking camel straights for 42 years.”  No wonder he had a heart attack! 
“Well, if you want me to be your cardiologist, you’ll have to give up smoking.”  
To which my father picked up that pack of cigarettes and tossed them in the garbage.  My father never smoked again.  He later told me that he continued to miss them the rest of his life.  He especially missed the first one in the morning.  Yet, he didn’t smoke again, and I was impressed.  To be able to throw them away after all those years of smoking was incredible.  I was awed by my father’s strength.  I thought he did a great thing for himself.  I had no idea what a gift this was for me. 
This act of my father’s worked on me.  I frequently thought about it.  It took me years to realize what an impact it had on me.  If my father could give up those cigarettes after all those years, just think what I could do.  Smoking is undoubtedly one of the most difficult addictions to quit, but he could do it by making a decision.  This act of my father’s spoke to me about my own capabilities.  When I doubt myself, I just think about my father throwing away those cigarettes.    

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