Not so long ago I lived a very healthy lifestyle, I like to think. I kept hydrated. I didn't engage in any illicit drug use. I always waited for the green man to appear at the pedestrian crossings even when there were no cars in sight and everyone else was crossing anyway. I would stare at everyone crossing with disapproving looks, and they would stare back with what was probably a mixture of admiration and respect.
But one day, this all changed. I still cared about my health, only less so. I started drinking a lot less water and becoming slightly dehydrated from time to time. I know what you are thinking; I was dancing with death. Living life on the edge. But there was worse to come. That fateful day came and I took up a dangerous habit: Second Hand Smoking.
I never thought I would be one of those people who second hand smoked. I thought it was stupid. I thought, why would anyone do something so detrimental to their health? But that was long before I found myself tied up and gagged by metaphorical ropes that were made from second hand smoke, metaphorically.
It all began as a social activity. I was a social second hand smoker. At first, when everyone stood around smoking, I would stand twenty metres away, across the street or behind a different building, my face covered by some form of non-porous material. But gradually, I felt like I was missing out on an important part of social interactions. That is, the part where you can see and talk to other people. So, I ventured closer.
Soon I was standing just a mere metre away from them. Usually upwind, I wasn't crazy. But that didn't stop the toxic smoke and it's diffusion. It diffused. It diffused everywhere. It diffused all the way down my oesophagus and into my bronchioles.
But I didn't care. I was a whole new person, and I crossed the street when I wanted to. I second hand smoked almost every day, sometimes more than once. I second hand smoked at home. I second hand smoked while I was walking to University. I even second hand smoked when I was sitting in the smoking areas outside bars and clubs.
Then one day, I realised my second hand smoking had to stop. This was about the time that I found myself gasping for breath on slight inclines. I developed a raspy second hand smokers' cough. And when I went for more than a few hours without second hand smoking, my hands would shake and my lungs would start to seize up. At least, I assume that's what the sharp pains in my chest were.
I didn't understand my habit. I didn't enjoy it and I knew it was bad for me. I decided I had to quit second hand smoking for good.
I went into immediate withdrawal. Suddenly, I saw my smoking friends about 10% less frequently per day, than I did when I was a regular second hand smoker. It was hard, but I knew I had to do this, if not for me then for my alveoli.
I am now almost a whole day second hand smokefree. I would be two days second hand smokefree but I accidentally inhaled some second hand smoke while lining up for the Robyn Concert, because it was raining and there weren't many places that I could stand to get away from the second hand smoke, while simultaneously asserting my authority as the front of the line.
My exploration into second hand smoking taught me something important. Second hand smoking is not as 'glamorous' and 'rebellious' as it appears from the outside. Mostly, it's just quite foggy. It's not actual fog but when your head is surrounded my second hand smoke it can look kind of foggy, and then you just get confused about the weather. And there is nothing glamorous or rebellious about being confused about the weather.
As the hours pass and I slowly regain my sense of smell, I become more certain that giving up second hand smoking is the right thing to do. Even better than quitting would have been never taking up second hand smoking in the first place so I would advise to not start such a deadly habit. Also, if you are a chronic second hand smoker, don't try to call Quitline. They won't take you seriously.
I never thought I would be one of those people who second hand smoked. I thought it was stupid. I thought, why would anyone do something so detrimental to their health? But that was long before I found myself tied up and gagged by metaphorical ropes that were made from second hand smoke, metaphorically.
It all began as a social activity. I was a social second hand smoker. At first, when everyone stood around smoking, I would stand twenty metres away, across the street or behind a different building, my face covered by some form of non-porous material. But gradually, I felt like I was missing out on an important part of social interactions. That is, the part where you can see and talk to other people. So, I ventured closer.
Soon I was standing just a mere metre away from them. Usually upwind, I wasn't crazy. But that didn't stop the toxic smoke and it's diffusion. It diffused. It diffused everywhere. It diffused all the way down my oesophagus and into my bronchioles.
But I didn't care. I was a whole new person, and I crossed the street when I wanted to. I second hand smoked almost every day, sometimes more than once. I second hand smoked at home. I second hand smoked while I was walking to University. I even second hand smoked when I was sitting in the smoking areas outside bars and clubs.
Then one day, I realised my second hand smoking had to stop. This was about the time that I found myself gasping for breath on slight inclines. I developed a raspy second hand smokers' cough. And when I went for more than a few hours without second hand smoking, my hands would shake and my lungs would start to seize up. At least, I assume that's what the sharp pains in my chest were.
I didn't understand my habit. I didn't enjoy it and I knew it was bad for me. I decided I had to quit second hand smoking for good.
I went into immediate withdrawal. Suddenly, I saw my smoking friends about 10% less frequently per day, than I did when I was a regular second hand smoker. It was hard, but I knew I had to do this, if not for me then for my alveoli.
I am now almost a whole day second hand smokefree. I would be two days second hand smokefree but I accidentally inhaled some second hand smoke while lining up for the Robyn Concert, because it was raining and there weren't many places that I could stand to get away from the second hand smoke, while simultaneously asserting my authority as the front of the line.
My exploration into second hand smoking taught me something important. Second hand smoking is not as 'glamorous' and 'rebellious' as it appears from the outside. Mostly, it's just quite foggy. It's not actual fog but when your head is surrounded my second hand smoke it can look kind of foggy, and then you just get confused about the weather. And there is nothing glamorous or rebellious about being confused about the weather.
As the hours pass and I slowly regain my sense of smell, I become more certain that giving up second hand smoking is the right thing to do. Even better than quitting would have been never taking up second hand smoking in the first place so I would advise to not start such a deadly habit. Also, if you are a chronic second hand smoker, don't try to call Quitline. They won't take you seriously.
