12 May 2009

My mother has always been on at me about smoking. Well, on and off. Because my smoking has been on and off. I smoked from about 14 to 30, then gave up. I started when I was in my late 30's I think, then stopped again about when I was about 45. Then started again whilst I was going through the process that resulted in my diagnosis.

The reasons for starting again could be attributed to stress, I suppose. But I think that is only part of the answer. Although, like most kids I expect, I originally started smoking to feel more grown up, I actually did enjoy it. I always have. Sure, there's no doubt an element of addiction to it, but I don't think that's anywhere near as significant as the 'habit-forming' aspect of it. It became inextricably linked with 'balance' - a pint in one hand and a fag in the other at the pub; a meal in a restaurant followed by a puff; a hectic day in the office broken up by reaching for a pack of 20. All part of the balance in my life.

Why after nearly 10 years off the weed did I start again? I have given it a lot of thought, and the only reason I can think of is this. I first gave up because my ex wanted me to. She didn't want another car smelling of smoke, so we did a deal: a new car if I gave up smoking. So when we separated, one of the first things I did was start smoking again. Similarly, when I wanted to date someone who was vehemently anti-smoking (although an ex-smoker herself), I gave up. When she ditched me soon after the first symptoms of what was later to be diagnosed as MS appeared, I started smoking again. It was all quite simple really. Elementary cause and effect. I didn't give up because I wanted to, but vicariously for somebody else each time. When I no longer felt an obligation to that person, I started smoking again.

I know it's bad for me, a waste of money that - especially now - I just don't have, but there we are.

My mother has always made comments like "you smell smokey", but they didn't have any effect. In myself, they just felt like another attempt to control me. I know that's neither fair nor a realistic evaluation, but still. The other day she tried a different tack, suggesting that it would be dreadful if a cure for MS was discovered and then I was found to have cancer caused by the cigarettes. I replied that at least I'd have something that could either be cured, or not. That it would either see me off, or I'd see it off. That at least I'd know what the score was.

That it would be preferable to the living death of MS.