I liked cigarettes. I mean, I really loved them. I loved everything about them: I loved buying the package and picking the seal on the side and opening the box for the first time.
I loved the sound of my lighter and the crackle of the tobacco as I lit the cigarette and the burning of the first breath that hit my lungs.
I loved the sigh as the smoke billowed out in a tight stream, unfolding and disappearing in rolling clouds.
Throughout my twenties I told myself that one day I would give up. One day. That seemed reassuringly distant to keep me from panicking too much, but also definitive enough to fool myself into thinking I’d give up before it killed me. When I was 30, I decided.
I liked cigarettes. I mean, I really loved them. I loved everything about them: I loved buying the package and picking the seal on the side and opening the box for the first time
But then 30 came and went and nothing happened. It took several more years before I realized that if I didn’t make a concerted effort, I would smoke until I died.
I loved smoking, but I knew it was killing me. Then my grandmother and aunt died of lung cancer and this had led to another round of moaning from my mother about my smoking.
And then I got the cough. Around this time there was a government campaign advising that if you have a cough for a month you should see a doctor as it could be cancer. I had been coughing for five months, but it was only after a family party, and my sister called to say that this cough had been going on for a long time and she was afraid I had cancer, which I was really thinking about.
And in a moment of chilling clarity, two things happened. The first was realizing what I, as a doctor, would think if someone sat down in front of me and told me they’ve been coughing for five months.
I would have thought, why didn’t you come sooner and that this is probably something serious.
The second thing that came to my mind was that even if this turns out to be nothing, unless I decide to quit smoking there’s a good chance that at some point I’ll start coughing or some other symptom and it’ll be cancer or another terrible disease. . Needless to say I went to the GP and it wasn’t cancer.
I loved smoking, but I knew it was killing me. Then my grandmother and aunt died of lung cancer and this had led to another round of moaning from my mother about my smoking. And then I got the cough
But I started to think I really needed to think hard about my smoking and what I was going to do about it: did I love it enough that I wouldn’t mind dying for it?
The fact was, I was an addict. I had worked in drug addiction clinics for several years and I made up all kinds of excuses that the alcohol and drug addicts I had worked with over the years made – I could give up whenever I wanted, you have to die of something, I enjoy of it and so on.
After 17 years of smoking between 20 and 40 a day, I decided to quit. The first time I did it on a whim and after a few days of drinking with friends I collapsed – the next day I bought a pack of 20 and continued as before.
But I learned from this and decided that the next attempt would be better planned. I researched options online, spoke to my primary care physician and met a smoking cessation nurse in my practice who used some CBT techniques to change my thinking about smoking.
With this support around me, I felt so confident in my ability to quit that I actually looked forward to the date I would quit.
That was almost ten years ago and I haven’t looked back.
Of course, things didn’t always go smoothly in the beginning. There were times when I almost slipped. But I was prepared for this and didn’t let it put me off.
I personally decided that nicotine replacement therapy — like gum or patches — wasn’t for me: I used other strategies, like writing down on my phone why I wanted to quit to remind me when I was tempted — and I’d text a friend who had already quit and who would encourage me.
Quitting smoking was one of the best things I’ve ever done. My breathing has improved, I have more energy. My skin looks more radiant and I feel healthier. And of course I’ve saved tens of thousands of pounds since I quit. I don’t even think about cigarettes anymore. They don’t interest me.
This Saturday, Stoptober, the ‘stop smoking’ campaign of the Ministry of Health, Welfare and Sport (of which I am the spokesperson) will start. This year the focus is on helping smokers build self-confidence: research shows that ‘self-efficacy’ plays a major role in the success or failure of a quit attempt.
‘Self-efficacy’ is the belief in yourself that you can make the change you want – this confidence is the key to quitting and it means feeling empowered and having the knowledge and tools at your fingertips as you prepare to make a change.
Stoptober bundles all available support and resources to help smokers quit. The good news is that research shows that if you quit for 28 days, you’re five times more likely to quit for good.
You can get daily support from Stoptober to get you through those 28 days — there’s a Stoptober website, a Facebook page, and Facebook online communities; you get emails and texts to keep you going, and there’s an online Personal Quit Plan tool to find a combination of support that’s right for you.
If I can quit smoking, anyone can. Try this Stoptober.
