h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Why c) ?

It goes with (b). One of the oft-quoted reasons for doctors drinking and smoking so much is that there's seemingly little mental health support.

Surely they have a strong peer community?

As compared to whom?

Oh, maybe it was my misconception.

Hi, Rich,

Just to let you know I am ing. I do hope you stick with it, you won't regret it.

Take note of what Frenchbean said about the grapes though

You can do this, I know you can. Incidentally my other half says too. The regret he feels is tough to bear. Emphysema curtailed his life drastically at just turned 50 (and mine too).

Websailor

I'm still going.

I had a cigarette on Wednesday night; that was my last. I tried to have one on Thursday night, too, but after the third drag my head spun out, I couldn't stand up, and I had to come back inside. That was my last. I've run every day since I gave up, and I'm getting fitter and happier each time. So I'm doing ok. The big test will be on Tuesday, when I go to Portsmouth to see Motorhead with Kev.

Lainey mentioned tonight that she thinks you're lovely, by the way, Webbie

Hurrah! Well done Skanks

I thought everybody knew that Websailor is lovely

Ooh! Ooh! What about me?

Woohoo well done. I'm so pleased you managed to get this far

Rich,

Oh, please say Hi, and thanks to Lainey

Keep up the good work leaving the ciggies alone. I shall be keeping an eye on you


*Waves* to Frenchbean too

I don't actually think that many doctors do smoke any more to be honest. Certainly I can only think of one or two of my colleagues that do.

Nurses tend to smoke a lot more than doctors.

In fact Doctors were the first group to give up smoking in large numbers after the Doll report.

Thanks, Z. I meant to update this.

I'm still off the ciggies, although I have had a few over the festive season. It's the most stressful time.

And that sounds like an excuse, but it isn't, and I'm in full agreement with Zero. Your advice has been perfect for me, actually.

I need the support mechanism. It's odd, in the context of the thread, that a guest well-known to us (he's stayed with us every other week over the last month) came to us over Christmas with the apparent intention of dying here.

We've already had the ambulance out for him once, a few weeks ago. He takes some heart medicine that he's in real trouble without; he's not allowed to smoke or drink. Oddly, although he's in his mid-70s and clearly unwell, he isn't weak or frail and doesn't show any signs of physical illness, but seems mentally and physically *resigned*.

Yesterday, our barman suddenly realised that he hadn't been seen for 48 hours. He'd bought two bottles of wine when he arrived (this wasn't unlike him, actually - he usually makes them last). He'd told the maids not to go in. And his wife died on Christmas Eve last year. And we looked at one another and realised that we had to go to his room. And neither of us wanted to, and we tried not to find the master key, and we tried to put it off, but we had to.

We knocked and called, but no reply. And we looked at one another and put the key in the lock, knowing in all certainty that we'd find his feet dangling off the floor, or pills scattered over the bed, or just a man whose life had *gone*.

It was the wrong key. As I fumbled for the right one, Mike finally heard a mumbled reply.

He was white. His eyes rolled into his head when he tried to look at us. His bones stuck almost through his naked flesh. He could barely speak, and when he did it bore no relation to us or the hotel, or anything we knew about. It's a haunting few seconds.

The ambulance people told us he'd have died on Christmas Day as they took him away.

Sometimes, you have to regress to the easiest method of coping, I'm afraid.

It's true. I reckon that being immersed in a video game would also do a good job of taking your mind off something like that. Time always makes it better in the long run, but in the short run whatever you can do to either not think of it or not be as concerned about it, helps.

It's a shame for you that he decided your hotel would be a good place to slide into the hereafter, but it might have been better from his point of view to do it with people - albeit people he doesn't know - in the vicinity rather than at home with no-one around. Perhaps he felt he'd end up as one of those stories you read or hear every now and again about some old codger who snuffed it and wasn't discovered for six months, and couldn't bear the thought.

I've a funeral to go to this morning - a dear friend's mother died last Saturday. Lung cancer - she wasn't yet 70.

3 weeks ago she walked into the Royal hospital for tests, but had a chest infection and they decided to keep her in for observation. Her decline was pretty rapid (but the family are taking some comfort from that fact)

What a disturbing experience, Rich! At least you and the barman had the wits to work out what was going on, and found the courage to go to him.

Somehow I missed this journal the first time around - sorry about that. Sounds like you've had a bit of a tough time of it.

I've heard (and I daresay Alex or Z will be able to confirm if this is true) that you only need to do something (or, indeed, not do something) for three weeks to form or break a habit.

"that you only need to do something (or, indeed, not do something) for three weeks to form or break a habit."

Less than that in some cases - doctors refuse to prescribe more than a week's worth of, say, sleeping pills because it's so easy to get addicted to them. I do wonder if the same goes for cigarettes.

I suppose it depends upon how regularly you do something - Z might have a better idea.

Rich, what a horrible experience! I'm so sorry for that lonely man, and for you and staff to go through it.
But I can't help to think that he chose you for a reason - kind people, good service, a comforting place in his misery.

I thought the same Milla. Almost a privilege in a way.



Websailor

Since I 'gave up', I've done fairly well. I actually managed to knock smoking on the head until the New Year, more or less, but when I redesigned the garden I had a few 'considering the scene' cigarettes. When it got cold, I lost the urge to exercise, and I started to have the odd ciggie because I was putting huge amounts of weight on - a stone and a half in two months is hard to ignore.

Smoking is a wonderful appetite suppressant, and it's felt at times that I might end up obese and depressed or as someone who still feels like me but having the occasional cigarette.

The problem with giving up smoking isn't just the lack of nicotine, which takes up your every waking hour, but also the constant craving of food that replaces it. It's like giving up your greatest vice and eating at the same time.

I've been on between two and half a dozen a day through January and February, which is a hell of an achievement from 40+. We went out this afternoon with my cousins, played a bit of Cayman Golf, then went to a pub to watch the footy. Towards the end, I accompanied Sarah, my cousin-in-law, for a smoke, and we talked about setting a day for giving it up for good.

'Hell, how about now? Make these our last ones?' I suggested as we were blowing the last of the crap from our lungs in big coughs. (I actually didn't want her to smoke any more than I'd want to see Lainey light up. I care more about what it does to other people than I care what it does to me.) 'We don't need this crap, Saz - how about it? A few last drags and that's us, yeah?' She didn't think I was serious until I gave the rest of my packet and my lighter to a bloke huddled in a doorway. Before long, her tobacco had been donated to a couple of smokers just inside, who were delighted to be in the right place at the right time.

I think that's it. I think I'm going to start running and coughing my guts up again tomorrow, and I think it's finally all going to be worth it this time.