Nicotine is an evil ingredient that maims and kills

Forgive me if I’m spoiling your Christmas, but it’s a weight I need to get off my stitched up chest.

This year, I’ve spent some time in intensive care units witnessing the death of a number of heart patients. And in almost every case, their lungs packed up as a direct result of smoking.

I survived despite clogged arteries and defective aortic valve. Because my lungs are lily white, free from poisonous brown sludge, the procedures were successful. I’m alive to spend Christmas at home.

That smoking is a killer is common knowledge. There’s enough evidence to justify the killer connotation. Even in my immediate circle, I’ve attended funerals of 15 folk, including my elder sister, as a consequence of the filthy habit. And presently I’m rubbing shoulders with friends and family who suffer from chronic emphysema as a result of sucking burning leaves. A pal had one lung removed, needing oxygen 24/7.

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How come brainy individuals, who have witnessed the disastrous effects of a stinking habit, fall into the trap? What saddens me too is the sight of young girls hooked on the habit. Chanel is buried in the stink. Crows’ feet soon encircle what were engaging smiles before the rot set in.

Do smokers not feel embarrassed standing in smoking zones, virtually ostracised from offices, shops, airplanes, restaurants, et al? At Paddington station in the UK a wall leading to the entrance is set aside for smokers.

They look a sorry sight, sucking, then blowing fumes at each other. Passers-by are forced to become passive smokers with attendant dangers. How fair is that?

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Talk about unfairness, what of relatives having to care for chronic smokers, often for prolonged periods. How is it that humans, born with a miracle body, can stoop so low as to ruin vital parts keeping them alive?

It proves the power of nicotine cannot be underestimated. It’s an evil ingredient, its sole aim to maim and kill. This is not sermonising. Smokers don’t need sanctimonious utterings from nonsmokers. What they do need is a rude reminder of the negative results from folk who love them. And the sincere wish they resolve to give it up.

How about making Christmas day the starting point for giving your lungs a lasting gift of loads of fresh oxygen? Ho, ho, ho!