Cheryl's Story

But wait...they will come back...my kind of cancer always does. The pulmonary doc said I had three to four months to live without treatment. The oncologist said he might be able to buy me one or two years, but it's up to the medicine and me as to how well I do. I know he must be sick of seeing people who are dying because they chose to smoke. He's young and looks very weary for his age. I actually worry about him. The radiologist said if I kill these tumors, more will come eventually. He said he could maybe buy me a year, or even three. Limited small cell cancer is incurable and inoperable. I have a 50 percent chance of beating this round, he says with sympathy and amazement in his eyes. He sees so many patients like myself. What a sad job. His amazement is at why anyone...in this day and age...would smoke in the first place.

The base line for me is to stay well enough to endure the treatments. I must stay healthy, germ-free, and eat right, etc., for the rest of my life. Right now I can't shop. I can't be in crowds. I can't even kiss my grandbabies because of their sniffles. I have no immune system anymore, so I should wear a mask around people. It's sure funny/ironic that everything I did in life (my so called fun/bad habits) was to avoid this exact healthy lifestyle. Heck, it was no fun to be healthy and vice-free. Too dull for me. I knew I was going to live to be one hundred. Now that I am ill, I have to do all of those things I resisted or was too lazy to do in the past...if I want to stay alive and fight the cancers. Now, wouldn't life have been simpler for me to have done those things all along? DUH!

Let's see now...why was it that I preferred to smoke...as opposed to...say...live and not smoke?

I am trying to let the shame and blame go. It's very hard to forgive myself for what I am doing to my loved ones. My life now depends on me having a healthy and positive attitude. I am going to give it my best, but it's difficult at times.

I want so much to make something positive out of this horrible state I have gotten myself into. I thought maybe a story from a person who has smoking-related cancer might help someone. But how could I get my story out? And would anyone care? I'm nobody in particular. Then Terry from About.com kindly invited me here, and we decided maybe a story on this site would be seen by others trying to quit. It might make a difference in their lives to see how much harder it is to have cancer than it is to stop smoking.

Even if it's only one person who might get scared enough and quit, that's a miracle in itself. I am sharing my story for all the folks who come here to get help in order to quit smoking. I want them to hear firsthand how devastating cancer is, not only for me, but for my innocent loved ones.

...unless you are murdered or have a fatal accident. It will give you a heart attack, stroke, or cancer. It can happen; it happened to me. It happens every day. The real crime is that a drug which is that addictive is legal in the first place.

I am writing all about this cancer and how my life has completely changed in my personal journal. Actually, it's the same journal I used for my "stop smoking" journal. Now that's a wee bit ironic and morbid, don't you think? But so is death at 56.

The shrink says to tell my eight-year-old granddaughter I am ill, but not to use the word cancer. I don't have to tell her. She knows on her own. She saw me working with scarves for the day my hair will be gone (which it is now), and said, "Oh no you don't! That is not a cool look on you, grand-mom."

Remember when only the cool people smoked? I was terminally "cool."

Thanks for reading my story. I have to go take some of the 900 dollars a month's worth of medication now. It's the only way I can sleep with minimal pain.

Cheryl
The Healing World - Part two of Cheryl's Story

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Michelle's Quit Story

On the eve of my 18-months smoke-free milestone, I am feeling nostalgic and grateful and moved to share my story.

My sister and I smoked our first cigarette when we were 10 and 11 years old respectively. I can't even remember if we inhaled, but they were Marlboro's, and they were 50 cents a pack, my entire week's allowance. After a couple of months, the guilt got to my sister, and she confessed (for both of us) to our parents, and I never picked up another cigarette until the summer of my 18th year. I smoked for only that summer, and then I didn't smoke another cigarette until I was 22 and in graduate school. WHY???????? I wish I knew why. Part of it, I'm sure, was being annoyed by the 'good girl' perception that people had of me. I got good grades, respected my parents, and didn't party a lot (a little...but not a lot). Well, one night I was at one of the few parties I attended in college, and someone offered me a cigarette. I took it and never looked back. I bought a pack the next day and began my new identity as a 'not so good girl' smoker.

When I was 12 years old, my dad, my hero, quit smoking, and once told me that if he ever saw me smoking, it would be like putting a stake through his heart. I never let him see me smoke. Since I was still in school and living at home, I was a closet smoker for the next 3 years. It was exhausting, and my parents knew I smoked anyway. When I finally became a teacher and moved out, I lived with 2 roommates, and neither of them smoked, so I smoked outside or in my car. There was a smoking lounge in the school where I taught, but I didn't want my students to know I smoked so I was careful not to let them see me. By now, hiding had become quite a theme in my existence as a smoker.

That continued as I got older, and my sister made me the proud aunt of 4 beautiful children. When I visited I would cower in a corner of the garage, listening for the opening door, so that I could put the cig out before I got caught. How ridiculous, I finally realized. I am ALWAYS hiding behind a wall of smoke, half the time not enjoying my time with family and friends because I was worried about when I'd be able to get my next fix.

By this time, I also knew that my health was being affected by my addiction. I was sleeping on 3 pillows and woke up during the night coughing. Then, when I got up in the morning, I'd hack and wheeze for about 30 minutes...all the while trying to inhale on my first cigarette of the day. I wouldn't know until after I quit smoking that my smoking had also likely caused my chronic back pain, degenerative disc disease. My family history also told me I'd better seriously think about quitting. Two grandparents and an uncle died of smoking-related illnesses, 1 also with emphysema. The more I thought about it, the more resolve I mustered to get a quit plan together.

I found a Web site called "The No Smoke Cafe" hosted by Christine Rowley. I read everything I could read about the addiction and quitting: the best ways to do it, what happens after quitting, how to maintain the quit. I saturated my brain with everything I could find, and then I read post on a message board associated with the "Cafe", and I paid close attention to what people were thinking and feeling as they began their journey to freedom from nicotine. Like many about to quit, I wanted as few surprises as possible. I knew this for sure, though...I wanted to quit more than I wanted to keep smoking, and that thought kept me company during the long road to recovery from nicotine addiction.

I chose a quit date, January 13, 2002, and I decided that I would use a NRT, the patch. I researched the NRT's too, weaning off the nicotine after smoking 2 packs a day for 14 years made the best sense to me. I submitted my first post 18 hours into my quit, and I have been smoke-free ever since. I credit my success so far in large part to Christine and her efforts to provide a place for people to support each other and for gathering so much information regarding smoking cessation. I believe that support is the #1 factor in successfully quitting smoking, and I'm grateful to all those who were there for me in the beginning.

Now, after almost a year and a half, there's nothing I enjoy more than trying to help others realize their goal of freedom from nicotine. Quitting smoking isn't easy, but almost nothing in life that's worthwhile is, and it is easier when you don't have to do it alone. Thanks to all the quitters, friends, who keep me continuously inspired. It's a remarkable journey of self-discovery and one that I have never regretted.

Michelle B. (QUITWIT)
Michelle's 1 Year Milestone
Michelle's 2 Year Milestone
Michelle's 3 Year Milestone
Michelle's 4 Year Milestone
Michelle's 5 Year Milestone
Patience With the Process
A Perspective on Using NRT's
There is No Substitute for Time
Depression When You Quit Smoking
Smoking and Degenerative Disc Disease

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Chery'ls Story Part Two

From you Guide to About.com Smoking Cessation, Terry Martin: I had the honor of meeting Cheryl in December of 2003, shortly after she'd been diagnosed with stage IV small cell lung cancer. It was her wish to do whatever she possibly could to help people quit smoking, so she wrote this article, along with another detailing her thoughts and life after diagnosis called Cheryl's Story of Courage and Caring. I think she accomplished her goal many times over. Her stories have been read by thousands of people all over the world, and many have found the inspiration they needed to stop smoking for good after reading what she had to share.

We all lost a very courageous and loving woman when Cheryl succumbed to her cancer on June 30, 2005. Please read her story, and take her words to heart. What happened to Cheryl could happen to anyone. Smoking is a deadly habit, and it will kill you, given the chance. It has nothing of value to offer you. Nothing.

I came to live here after I was diagnosed with limited small cell lung cancer and squamous cell 3rd stage B cancer on November 19, 2003.

Now, I wasn't aware of this place, nor did I realize I had already become a participating resident for about three weeks. Every time I heard a statistic, or the time, date of this or that, I closed off my hearing and speech. I let my family do the hearing for me as we traveled back and forth to doctors and meetings for days on end. It took me a bit of traveling blindly to get here, but finally the wheels came to a stop. The cigarette smoke and the clouds of denial and confusion finally lifted before my eyes, dry from radiation. I wanted to see the truth. I was raw and weary from the trip, but I was finally ready to learn what I needed to do in order to survive. I was ready to be in control of this particular cycle of my life.

I watched and observed others in my condition. The experienced ones in the treatment rooms helped me along the way. They were kind and honest. Slowly, slowly, layer by layer, my old life's needs, wants and priorities were being stripped away. Those layers were useless to me now. One day I looked in the mirror, and what I saw was me, being as open and honest as I had ever been in my life. In reality, I was bald and ill, but in my mind's eye I was beautiful and my spirit soared. One side of my being wanted to Go! Live and love for all the days that were left!

That side said, "Be greedy and don't look ahead."

The other side of me said, "Get out there. Fight! Know thine enemy, cancer. Pay attention. This one is for the BIG test!"

Ok! I get it! I am here 100 percent. Cheryl is here for her new class on Life 101.

I am up and at 'em at 4am in order to get to the big city by 7:30 a.m. I grab my meds, coffee, my nic gum, my crystals, my ACA book, and Bernie Siegal, M.D.'s book, Love, Medicine and Miracles, and head for the car. I ride through my beloved, foggy morning bayous to get to the hospital. By the time I get to the second floor of the hospital, the nurses are turning on the blinking, popping florescent lights at their stations, thereby erasing all of the darkness of yesterday. For one tiny second, we are all the same. Just people beginning their work day. Not patients, not nurses, just people. But it's just for a tiny second.As I walk into the chemo treatment room, I first look around to see who isn't there. I make a mental note to ask the nurse or others about the missing person later. Then, and only then, will I focus on the faces who are there. I find a splendid beauty in every single face I behold on these days. I think I am finally getting it. Only God could have created man. I see humanity and caring shining through the pain and fear when I see these people helping each other.

Healing Comes in Many Forms... - page 2 of The Healing World

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Oral Cancer Personal Story

Throat Anatomy courtesy of A.D.A.M.

I left his office in a trance. I drove home in a trance, almost wrecking the car a couple of times. My only thought was, "No, no, no, way are they going to cut my throat open, and no way are they going to turn me into a freak."

I got home and called my children and told them what the doctor had said. I also told them I'd decided not to have the surgery. They naturally had a fit and said, "Yes, you are!" I informed them it was my life and my decision.

My oldest son and his wife drove 500 miles to my home to talk me into having the surgery. My daughter-in-law started crying and said, "Mom, I can't believe you don't want to see your future grandchildren."Well, I think that's what did it, because after I thought about it, I couldn't sleep that night. I realized how selfish I was. I knew I was not ready to leave this world without seeing my grand babies. My greatest wish was to be a grandma. I decided to go back and talk to the doctor. The kids went with me, and on December 24, 1996 (Christmas Eve), I had a complete laryngectomy. Nice Christmas present wasn't it?

When I woke up in intensive care, the first thing I recall is seeing my youngest son holding my hand with his head resting on the bed rail, crying so hard he was sobbing. I naturally opened my mouth to console him but nothing came out. I felt so helpless. I wanted so badly to assure him everything was going to be okay, and I couldn't say a word. My voice was gone. Forever.

That must have been a horrible sight, seeing your mother lying there with her throat cut nearly ear to ear.

All because of tobacco addiction.

After I got out of the hospital, I had home nurses and a speech therapist come to my home to help me. I didn't know anything about the laryngectomy I had just had or about being a laryngectomee. This was all new to me. The first thing was to learn how to care for myself. There was the feeding tube, hooked up through my nose, and learning to clean the trachea site (hole in my neck). One day I was fine, the next I'd cry all day. I was on an emotional roller coaster. I had a speech therapist who came to my home to teach me how to talk with an instrument called an electro-larynx. She took it out of the box, put the battery in it, and showed me how to use it. She told me to sit in front of a mirror and practice until I could be understood. As soon as she left, I took the battery out, packed it back in the box and said to myself, "I'm not about to use that silly-sounding thing to talk. I wouldn't be caught dead talking with that thing."Still suffering in silence, all because of tobacco addiction.

We set up a tapping signal on the telephone so I could answer questions and call for help if I needed to. One tap was "no," two taps meant "yes," etc. My daughter and granddaughter called me from out of state, and they would ask questions and talk and I would tap. When we got ready to hang up, I started crying. I tapped 1-2-3 and my daughter said "I love you too, Mom." I'll never forget how devastated I felt that I couldn't even tell my kids I love them. All because of tobacco addiction.

After I got off the phone, I opened the box, put the battery back in and started to practice. As soon as I thought my kids would be able to understand me, I called them all and told them I loved them, and they all understood me. To this day, I hate using talking with that device. I'd much rather have my old voice back, but it is gone forever...all because of tobacco addiction.

Then came 33 radiation treatments--as if the cut throat, feeding tubes, medications, and silly-sounding speaking devices weren't enough. Getting through all the radiation treatments was a real test of strength for me. More than once I sat in my car after a treatment and cried before I could put the key in the ignition and start the car (I prayed a lot too). But my children constantly reassured me that I could make it. How I did, I don't know, but I did. I have adjusted for the most part to my new way of life. Every day I think about it; it never leaves your mind. I am so lucky because I'm alive. A lot of people -- approximately 50 an hour -- are dying because of tobacco addiction. Speaking of being lucky, in 1999, we were invited by the American Lung Association to represent them at the Second Wind Lung Transplant Convention in St. Louis. I talked to people who were in wheelchairs with oxygen tanks strapped to their backs and tubes running up their noses. They were some of the nicest people I've ever met. I talked at length about their problems, my problems, etc.

I learned that most of them had smoked, and most of them were on a waiting list for a lung transplant. Well I'm ashamed to admit that up until this point I had felt sorry for myself. I came home from that convention a much more thankful person and life means so much more to me now. I'm alive, and my name is not on a waiting list for life!

I am sure my story is pretty close to, if not exactly like, many others before and after me. That's why it's important that we educate as many children as we can about the dangers and terrible consequences of tobacco.

If you are a child and you are reading my story, please stop and really think about what you are doing to harm yourself before you use a tobacco product, because I really do care about you.

Marlene Today: An Update

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Leslyr's Quit Story

Lesly R.

The first time I tried to quit smoking seriously was in March of 1979!

I paid big bucks and joined Smokenders. I remember our teacher gave us a test to determine how addicted we were. Everyone put their hands up, and if the situation did not apply to you, you would put your hand down. The questions were ones like: have you ever violated a "No Smoking" sign?, or, Have you ever gotten out of bed in the middle of the night to smoke?, or , Is smoking the first thing you do in the morning? By the end of the test, there were three people in the room with their hands still raised. Two guys in the back who looked like they were eighty and homeless, and, you guessed it, ME! The teacher didn't seem too concerned about this, but it confirmed my deepest and darkest beliefs:

No one in life was more addicted than I was.

That quit ended about four months later when I started cutting the filters off my husband's Carlton cigarettes, and hiding in the bathroom, blowing smoke out the window. Ha - I sure fooled everyone!

Over the years, I tried many ways to quit. I repeated Smokenders, and then tried Smoke Stoppers. I told myself when they made NRT's non-prescription, then I would quit. Well, that day and year(s) came and went and I still smoked. My little daughter would leave notes all over the house:

"Please don't smoke - I will choke coff coff" with sad pictures. I actually saved these.

My kids got older - my son became a State champion in tennis; my daughter was a State champion soloist in synchronized swimming. Both of these sports require a lot of oxygen and stamina. Here is what I did to help them: I drove them to meets in a car filled with cigarette smoke, and made certain to smoke in every room of the house. I missed some of the highlights of their competitions, as I got so nervous, I was always racing outside to smoke!!

Finally, I tried the gum. This worked until one day I got so fed up with the process, I decided I needed a little reward. So...I went to the store, bought a pack, lit up one, and threw the entire pack out of the car window. About three hours later, I was back at that spot, madly searching for that beautiful pack I threw out.

One of my best friend's husband is a doctor. He supplied me with free patches that sat in my drawer until they expired and I threw them out. By this time, I could no longer sleep through the night, as I was coughing all the time. I coughed so hard I don't know how anyone slept.

Then the unthinkable happened...

My ex-husband, father of my two children, and his wife both were diagnosed with lung cancer. My children's world fell apart. School and activities were put on hold as they cared for the two of them. My daughter would call me, sobbing about how her father moaned in his sleep like a wounded animal, he was in so much pain. He went down hill so fast. 5 months after the diagnosis, my daughter was changing his diapers, and 6 months after the diagnosis, he was dead. His wife died 7 months later.

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Cyndie's Quit Smoking Story

Happy New Year 2003. It was a quiet Christmas, my first one ever without my family, the first time I ever put up my own tree, my first as a married woman, my last without children, and my last as a smoker. Little do I know it, but by the end of this cold January, I will be growing a precious miracle; I will not discover this for awhile longer.

Early February I am getting ready for a night on the town. I have washed my favorite jeans and tank top and have my hair and nails all sexed up. My jeans feel tight; this will depress me for most of the night. For some reason I am not in the party mood anyway. The beer tastes like bog water, and I wind up heading home early. This is a strange month, everything is off. My favorite foods are less than desirable, I am sleeping particularly good (did I mention I am a diagnosed insomniac?), I am gaining weight, I am moody....I become suspicious.

Saturday, February 28th, I wake at 10am and tip toe to the bathroom and dig out "The Test" and do the deed. I proceed to the kitchen to make my tea and then smoke a few cigarettes waiting for the result. I couldn't be. I am 27 years old, I am a newlywed, I haven't taken my honeymoon. We weren't trying. The doctor said it would take longer than this. I just bought a brand new computer system with kick a$$ party speakers. I have no room for a crib. I don't even like babies. I've never changed a diaper...5 minutes have passed.

I crush out my cigarette and make my way back to the bathroom...think calm thoughts...there it is, sitting on the sink staring back at me. 2 LINES!!! I sat down on the toilet and just flipped the stick over and over in my hand...well now...this does change my summer plans doesn't it? I was cool and collected, numb and very white! I wake my husband (of 5 months) and say, "look in the bathroom"...he says, "Oh, so we're going to have a baby, huh?" I fall apart.

We go to the doctor and he offers the text book CONGRATULATIONS. Then he bombards me with 1001 questions. "Was this planned?" NO. "Will you be keeping this child?" Ummmmmm YES. "Do you know who the father is?" HELLO??? "First pregnancy?" YUP. "Do you smoke?"...silence...bows head...YES!! He sits back in his chair and looks at me. "Well, you'll need to quit TODAY!" Oh yeah, sure, today, of course, make it sound a little easier. We went home and Paul says while smoking a cigarette, "you have to quit!" I agree and light one up.

A week and a half go by and I cut back significantly to about 10 a day. A grand accomplishment for me but not enough I understood. I was more embarrassed than ever to be a smoker now but of course I kept on smoking.

On Thursday, March 12th, 2003, I got up for work at 10am, and before I lit my morning cigarette, I went to use the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, I am in emergency and the doctors and nurses are thick as thieves and Paul is sitting there holding his head. I felt like I was hit by another car. I felt no physical pain, but my heart was twisting and aching, and dear God, there are no words for that day. I am 7 weeks pregnant, and I am losing my baby.

When I went to bed last night, I was wondering if I was ready to be a parent. Pondering if this was really what I wanted. Suddenly, in that moment in the hospital bed, I realized it was too late to choose. I am already a mother. I cried so hard that I lost my breath and Paul stood by me silent and still, and rubbed my hair back over and over again. One nurse said " Sweetie, there will be other babies"...Other? I wanted THIS one. I began, trying to make deals with the big man upstairs. Dear God, I will be a better person. I will curb my temper. I will be more patient. I will stop swearing. I WILL STOP SMOKING FOR AS LONG AS I CARRY THIS CHILD...please don't take my baby.

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Gaylene's Quit Story

My story starts 36 years ago. Still to this day, I have trouble believing I became a smoker. Both of my parents smoked. I hated that, and was continually waving away the smoke, hiding their cigarettes, and complaining. Finally, when I was in college, my roommate and I decided we'd add smoking to our weight loss plan. We'd eat a very small amount, then choke down a cigarette or two. It certainly did cut down on our eating...UNTIL we became used to smoking, and didn't get sick every time we lit up! Before we knew it, both of us NEEDED to smoke. We were addicts.

I managed to keep my habit a secret (or so I thought) from my family for a year or so. Finally, Mom told me that Dad was pretty sure I was smoking because there were always dirty ashtrays in my house. The final unrobing of my "secret" was the day Grandpa arrived at my home bearing a small gift. It was the cutest little boot shaped cigarette lighter! How do you suppose he knew I smoked!!??

The next thing I knew, I was married and had two sons. I'm ashamed to say they went through the exact same suffering from my smoking that I went through with my parents. I braved their anti-smoking assaults just like Mom and Dad had braved mine.

Then came a grandchild who hated smoking. One thing that proved the power of addiction was both my husband's and my disregard for our (at the time) four year-old grandson's fears. One day out of the blue, he said, "I don't want Grandpa to die." When asked why he was worrying about this, his answer was, "He smokes cigarettes." I get tears every time I think about not giving up our "enjoyment" and letting this little boy's mind be at rest.

I had been smoking for about twenty-four years when I started developing a cough. This cough started out as occasional and progressed to very often. Not wanting to admit that maybe the cause of the cough could be smoking, I decided I must have allergies to the chemicals I use every day while working in my hair salon. This led me to purchase all kinds of cough syrups, over the counter allergy meds, and throat lozenges. I bought machines to clean the air and stopped using aerosol sprays. Funny thing, the cough didn't go away or even diminish.

I started getting slightly short of breath, then progressed to VERY short of breath. I could no longer climb mountains, water ski, or play sports with my boys. I used to walk for miles daily. My boundless energy was gone. At night I would lie in bed and feel my heart pounding while my chest ached. I began to suspect COPD. Denial made me hope that I had something wrong with my heart. I felt something could be done to help me if I had heart troubles. COPD sounded too scary, too final. I went to a heart clinic to get checked out. After a treadmill test, ultra sounds, etc., it was determined that my heart was fine. This left me no choice but to admit I had a serious lung problem.

Gaylene learns she has emphysema

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Oral Cancer Personal Story

From your Guide to About.com Smoking Cessation, Terry Martin:
I feel fortunate to have met and helped Marlene share her story. Throat cancer is a horrible disease, and one that most smokers fear. I cannot imagine losing my voice, let alone going on to "speak" before groups of children, using my disease as a powerful example to help them avoid smoking. This is just what Marlene does today though, every chance she gets. She is a remarkable woman, and is nothing short of inspirational. I hope that her story touches you as it has me.

I am writing this story about my life as a smoker in hopes it will not only entertain whoever should read it, but maybe prevent someone from using tobacco or entice someone to quit using tobacco.

I tried my first cigarette at the age of 11. The preacher's son gave it to me behind the church, where a lot of us kids went after church services on Sunday morning. I was a bashful and timid girl, and just wanted to be included in the group. I did not actually start smoking then, full time that is. I would sneak one here and there with the other kids, but by the time I was 12, I was hooked.

Now that I've analyzed this I realize tobacco turned me into a sneak, a liar, and a thief, right off the bat. I'd sneak to catch a "drag" here and there, then I graduated to stealing cigarettes from anyone who happened to leave a pack around. When asked about it, I lied and said, "No, I haven't been smoking" and "No, I didn't take any cigarettes." I started stealing money to support my habit. I did it so I could hang out with the kids and be part of their group.

I moved in with my dad, step mom, and step sister when I was 12. My step sister, who was 10, took me to the backyard where a old trailer was sitting. She crawled under it and came out with her cigarette stash, a "stolen pack of daddy's cigarettes." That's when I really started to smoke. Stealing from my dad was easy. He never seemed to miss them, until one day when he caught me. I knew I was going to get the beating of my life; my dad had a bad temper when pushed to his wits end.

He ordered me into the house, where he sat me down at the dining room table. He made me roll 20 cigarettes from the old roll; your own "strong, stinking tobacco" with the papers, remember those? Does anyone still use that stuff? When I finished rolling them, he made me sit there and smoke every one of them. No supper, nothing to drink. I had to just sit there and smoke. Well, even a surprise to me today, I did it. It took me a few hours, but I did it. You see, I inherited his stubborn streak.

When I finished the last one, he said, "Well, you proved you can handle it, so you have my permission to smoke, but if I ever catch your sister smoking, I'll give you the beating that you thought you were going to get today." I got up from the table, feeling rather sick, went into the bedroom and told my sister, "If daddy ever catches you smoking, I'll beat you to death!"

I have since thought of that time and truly wish he would have give me the beating of my life instead of handling it like he did.

So,with my dad's permission to smoke, I smoked all the time and everywhere, except grandma's house. Forget the beating, she would have killed me.

Over the years, cigarettes caused a lot of turmoil in my life. Smoking put me in the hospital 3 times that I can remember. I had severe bronchitis and breathing problems. I was put on breathing machines and breathing medications several times. As soon as I would get to where I could breathe freely again, I would light up. Is that insane or what?

This went on for 39 years, at which time I was smoking 2-plus packs per day and still lying about it. I lied to the doctor that diagnosed me with cancer. "No doctor, I only smoke less than a pack a day." Lies, Lies, and more lies for 39 miserable years.

In 1996, I developed a sore throat that would not go away. I tried everything over the counter -- cold medicines, lozenges, throat sprays. Nothing worked.

I went to the doctor, who put me on one antibiotic after the other from October until December. Still, the sore throat wouldn't go away. Finally, he sent me to an oncological ear, nose and throat specialist, who ran a scope down my nose and throat. He saw something and suggested I go to the hospital and have a biopsy.

I had the biopsy on Thursday. After it was over, the doctor didn't stay to talk to me. Instead, he left instructions for me to go home, rest my voice, not to talk to anyone, and left a prescription for a rather strong pain medication. He told the nurse to instruct me to be in his office the next day at 5 p.m. I knew he did not take appointments that late in the day. I also knew you do not get pain medication like that, with refills unless something is really wrong. Also, I wondered, "Why can't I use my voice?" I knew the news was going to be bad.

I went home and waited for 5 p.m. Friday to come. I didn't talk to anyone. I just waited, and it seemed like a long time. When the time finally arrived for me to leave, I wanted to run in the opposite direction. I dreaded that trip to his office, but I went and he said right out, "You have cancer, and it's the worst kind; it spreads rapidly. I suggest we operate as soon as possible. I want to perform a complete laryngectomy on you. There's good news and bad news; the good is I think I can get it all. The bad... you will never talk again."I told him I'd get back with him on what I wanted to do.

Marlene's Surgery and Beyond

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