Guardian Angel

It was like any other morning, and we were driving out of our development, to go to the grocery story, The City was doing some construction, and there were men deep in a hole by the side of the road. It was on my side, and I noticed a man smoking a cigarette, that was standing in the hole.

I had stopped smoking in 2008, but not before it had given me emphysema, and COPD, and left me with 35% lung function. I wished someone had warned me about what could have happened to me, back in 1967, when I started smoking. However, that was the sixites.

The Sixties

In 1967, I was seventeen years old, and it seemed everyone was smoking back then. I remember when I first started, I was having trouble with my nerves, and the girl I was working with Betsy had always smoked, as well as my step-father and my mother, did at home. I walked over and put a dollar's worth of quarters in the cigarette machine, at the donut shop where I worked and purchased a pack of cigarettes. That was a defining moment for me, the day I started "ruining my lungs". I was unaware that moment in time would define my whole future. That when I was 74, I would be put on oxygen at night, and I would have my lung function plague me throughout my older age.

I Was Addicted

I learned alot about myself, during my smoking career, or so I am calling it. I learned that I had a addictive personality. It didn't take long before I was hooked on nicotine, and there was no turning back.

I tried stopping numerous times in my life, especially after 50 years old, when at the doctors office, they said, I was not moving air. I asked, "What do mean by that?" They told me to never mind, and gave me a rescue inhaler.

The defining moment came when I was diagnosed with a lump on my breast, and I had to have it removed. I went to the clinic that was suppose to operate on me, and the girl took my insurance, and did the paperwork on me, and I waited for them to call me back.

Another Defining Moment

I was called back to the examing room, and a crusty older nurse, proceeded the pre-examination to my surgery. I had not came today to have surgery, but for my pre-operative exam.

She took my blood pressure and my pulse, and then she then proceeded to listen to my lungs. "She told me, I wasn't moving air very well at all." What does that mean I asked her, as I had asked my primary doctor many times before, however, this time I got a totally different answer.

That means your lungs are not functioning well enough to have the surgery. "No, we are not operating on you!" She was crusty enough, that I didn't argue with her, but drove back home with tears in my eyes.

Now what was I going to do? The lump could be cancerous, and I needed to have it removed. I arrived home, and sat at my kitchen table and cried, and my thoughts raced back to my first cigarette and I cursed the pack that was in my purse.

I would have the surgery, and I would stop this time for good. I was ready, this time it was "life or death."

One More Time

After I composed myself, I drove back down to the clinic, and asked to speak to the crusty old nurse. I told her I wanted to make a deal with her to clear me for surgery. She replied, this isnt' "Let's make a deal, and I am not Monty Hall." I asked her to hear what I had to say, and she listened intently, but hesitantly.

I simply told her, "If I stop smoking, today, will you listen to my lungs again in two weeks." She replied, doubtfully, "Sure, but in my experience, someone who has smoked as long as you have, forty years, they smoke until they are on a respirator. I thanked her, and drove back home again, to implement my plan.

The Last Stand

I went back home, and sat on my porch on the metal bench, and had my last cigarette, saying goodbye to a habit of four decades, that had ruined my lungs. I noticed the cigareet butts lying around my front yard, and it suddenly disguested me. I remember my failed attempts previosly, and when I was in withdrawal, the butts looks utterly delicous to me, but not this time. I felt disgust, and anger.

Implementing My Plan

After that last cigarette, I threw my pack away, and I kept myself busy for the rest of the day. In my quest to stop smoking, I couldn't stay busy enough.

The crusty old nurse, called me, and told me if I was serious about it, join a support group. I quickly went online and signed up.

My Journey

The days ahead were long and hard, but I persevered. I was glad it was Summer, because I filled up a kiddie pool, and floated in it to relax, and I spent numerous hours online with the smoking cessation group.

My Surgery

In two weeks, I went back and they cleared me for surgery, and shortly thereafter, I had my surgery, and the lump was benign.

Eighteen years later, I never returned to smoking, not even when my son was murdered. It is a nasty addiction that can take your life.

I thought about my primary doctor, not telling me what he meant by "not moving air", and I became angry."

My Small Win -Keeps Winning

The small win of having the surgery, and my success to stop smoking, turned out to be so much more. -- I kept winning. - It saved my life.

The Man In The Hole

The memories of my smoking years, lingered, and I rolled down my window, and I said to the man, who was smoking a cigarette in the hole, and a shovel in his other had. "Those things will kill you, they almost killed me until I stopped, smoking." We continued out of the development.

A Few Hours Later

There was a knock on my door, and here stood the man who was down in the hole smoking the cigarette. I started to apologize, for approaching him, but he interrupted me and handed me a round metal object, and he said, "I want you to have this." He continued to say, there is not many people who would stop and care about a perfect stranger.

He said,"You Are My Guardian Angel Today"

On the back of the shiny metal, the inscription was this:

Guardian Angel

Protect us all

Giving Strength

When we might fall

Watching Guiding

Lighting the Way

Thru the night

And every day

Another small win that turned out to be so much more