It is exactly 30 years ago today that I had my last cigarette. The 24th of January, 1983. This is the story of how I quit smoking.
It was early evening. I was in a hospital room as I watched someone die of cancer. She’d been a smoker earlier on in her life. The cancer had spread throughout her body. She’d left a note “make this end” – so they withdrew treatment, food and fluids.
I watched her take her last breath.
As I walked out of the room into the sterile, brightly lit hospital corridor, I threw the half full packet of cigarettes (Benson & Hedges Extra Mild) into the grey metal bin.
Cold turkey. I haven’t smoked since.
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