A young smoker tries to quit but is it too late?
|With trembling hands, I took another one. For years I tried to stop but nothing worked. I'm at it again. Every time I did it when no one was looking, I felt good, but the moment it ended, I swore I'll quit tomorrow.
It's Joey's fault! He made me do it!
It was recess and we were in our corner at the playground. We crammed closer as Joey dug into his pocket and pulled out the soft, slender sticks.
Chrissy, the only girl with us, reached for one. “I want to try.” She giggled. Joey passed a stick to each of us – Chrissy, Georgie, Danny, and me.
“You'll need this,” he said as he pulled out a small, rectangle-shaped object with a flip top. His little fingers flicked the top like an expert and a flame shot up.
He placed a stick between his lips and with his hands cupped, brought the fire closer to the end of it.
He took a deep breath.
We gasped as he released a puff of smoke.
“OK, who next?”
Chrissy put her stick in her lips, and as Joey's flame touched it she coughed.
I pursed my lips around my stick; it tasted good. Next came the flickering flame. I sucked in my breath, as I saw Joey did. I coughed.
That was then.
Now my cough has gotten worse. Mom was worried and took me to the hospital where I had tests.
Later a doctor came and talked to us.
“Your son's lungs are damaged.” He said. “He'll die if he doesn't quit smoking. ”
Mom stared at me, speechless.
I nearly wet my pants. “Mommy! I'm too young to die!“ I cried.
I'm only 10 years old.
Oh yeah, Joey died last year.