My name is Vincent Kanhai-Singh, and I was diagnosed with COPD (Emphysema) in 2002 when I was only 52 years old. I smoked for 32 years and tried to quit several times. I was told by my pulmonologist that the life I had lived thus far had to change if I wanted to conquer this illness. I attended Pulmonary Rehab., recommended by my doctor, and I had made up my mind that this disease was not going to control my life. I was too young to be suffering from COPD and to have my family visit me in the hospital and to see the condition I was in was devastating to me. I wondered if I was the one visiting one of my children in the hospital with the same condition I was in, how would I have felt? That was the turning point for me and I had all the reasons I needed to turn my life around. I worked extremely hard at rehabilitation and gave up my disability and went back to work fulltime. I have also been volunteering at Breathe New Hampshire for the last six years and have been voted Volunteer of the Year last year and most recently was voted on as a member of the Board of Directors. I will do my best to help people quit smoking before they get into the position I was in. Remember, YOU started smoking and only YOU can change that.

Good luck!

I hope you change your lives for the better.

Regards

Vinnie

 My name is Shirley, but the story I am sharing is Don’s. I am telling it because Don is not with us any more. He died two years ago at the age of 57 from COPD after being on oxygen for nine years. Don started smoking as a young teen and continued for 30 years. He developed some coughing and shortness of breath, but kept smoking. It was his opinion that it wasn’t serious and that nothing bad would happen to him. When he finally quit smoking unfortunately the damage had already been done. Four years later he was diagnosed with COPD, placed on oxygen, told he couldn’t work again, and that he had five to ten years to live. At first he was able to be fairly active, but gradually over the years he could do less and less. He lost his independence, often needed help with dressing and showering, and had to be in a wheelchair. As his spouse and caretaker, the disease had huge impact on my life and emotions as well.  I would fluctuate from feeling sorry for him to being angry for having to put my life on hold. I was envious of our friends and neighbors for little things like taking a walk down the road. Don and I couldn’t even walk down the driveway. We couldn’t do anything spontaneously because everything had to be planned around his oxygen supply. We did try to take a positive outlook and got involved with BreatheNH. Don embraced their mission and it gave him a purpose. There is no denying it – it can happen to you. I continue to share our story as I don’t want anyone to go through what we did.

I once heard it said that there are as many ways to quit smoking as there are reasons to start.  I disagree.  I think there are as many ways/reasons to quit smoking as there are smokers.  Each of us is a unique and distinct individual.  So, it stands to reason that each of us will quit in our own way.  There's no right and there's no wrong.

I have been relatively fortunate with my smoking career.  I've put it down and picked it up a number of times throughout my life.  I started smoking to be "cool" and to appear older than my thirteen years.  I smoked pretty much without interruption until I was 28.  I graduated my way up to about two packs of cigarettes a day at one point.  I smoked and all of my friends smoked.  It was just what we did.

I quit for the first time when I was hospitalized for a lengthy time due to automobile accident injuries.  I picked it back up afterward, though.  I stopped when I was expecting my first child.  I started after her birth and did the same thing for my second child.

As my children grew older I began sneaking around smoking because I didn't want them to know I smoked.  I thought to myself often, "haven't you come full circle! You used to hide it from your parents, now you're hiding it from your kids."

Here's how I finally quit for good.  I was sneaking a smoke in the garage when my younger daughter unexpectedly came bounding out the door and caught me.  I will never forget that moment.  She stared at me for an instant and burst into tears, crying, "Mommy, I thought you loved me." And she ran back into the house crying hysterically.  That was the end for me.

What's your story?  And, do you need a "buddy" to help you through the quitting process?

Bdov