My Aunt Sue died at the age of 39. She worked hard to fulfill her dream of becoming a school librarian. It took her ten years to complete her degree, because she wanted to spend time with her young family. She was so happy when she graduated that May. She didn't know that she had lung cancer caused by her addiction to cigarettes. She died in October, just five months after she graduated. Aunt Sue left behind three children and a husband who needed her.
Uncle Al and Aunt Sue had a team of Siberian Huskies. They loved to race them. They dreamed about buying a bigger house and of taking vacations together. They thought they'd be able to do more after Aunt Sue graduated and found a full time job. They also thought they'd see their three children get married. Instead, Aunt Sue left my uncle with three children, ages 8, 11, and 14. Uncle Al slept on the sofa for six months after my aunt's death. He couldn't bear to sleep in the bed they had shared for so many years.
My father, Elliott, was a heavy equipment operator. He was forty-five years old when I was born. He was sixty-five when he died from lung cancer caused from smoking. We didn't have much time together. He lived only six months after he was diagnosed. He never complained, but our family could see that he was in a lot of pain. It was painful for us to watch him suffer. My oldest son was nine months old when his grandfather died. My dad didn't live to see my other two sons.
He would have been a wonderful grandfather to them. He loved children and children loved him. My wife and I were called to meet my mother at the hospital the night he was rushed in. We were too late. My mother was standing alone on the dock by the emergency room. We knew that Dad was gone. My mother, Ruth, depended on my dad. She had never worked outside of the home, and she had never learned to drive. Mom lost her will to live. She died four years after Dad at the age of 57. (Elliott Jr.)
I'd like you to meet my father, Harry, also known as "Bud" to his family and friends. Bud was a wonderful husband, father, and grandfather. He had two children and six grandchildren who loved to spend time with him. Dad loved to play the drums, and he was extremely good at it. In fact, he worked as a part-time musician for about thirty-two years.
This is Bill with his youngest daughter, Jennielee, taken on June 14, 1984, the night of her high school graduation. He was so proud. You can see it on his face. But I want you to look closer at his shirt pocket. Can you see the bulge? That's right! His constant companion, a pack of cigarettes, that went everywhere with him. He was addicted and couldn't let go.
I began smoking at 10 or 11 years old, never thinking of the consequences
that would follow. It was the thing to do. By 14, I was hooked on a pack
a day. That progressed to two or three. I didn't listen to the doctors.
I laughed.
I started having earaches and a sore throat. After several times of looking and finding nothing, I had a biopsy and the diagnosis wasn't good, cancer of the throat.
On March 2, 1995 I had a feeding tube inserted in my stomach, as I wasn't
able to eat. I ended up living on Ensure for almost a year. On March 3,
1995 I was operated on and was told I had a 50-50 chance.
My surgery lasted about ten hours, and I spent two days in the Recovery
Room. My breast muscle had to be implanted in my throat at the site where
the cancer was removed. For seven weeks I received radiation. I began
to have breathing problems and had to have a tracheotomy. My life is no
longer the same, but I am fortunate be alive and to have my voice box.
(Dennis took part in our Marlboro Man on Trial Play this year. He wanted
to tell the children in the audience not to let the tobacco companies
fool them like they fooled him. It wasn't easy for Dennis to take part,
as his cancer had spread to his lungs and he was receiving chemotherapy.)
I was diagnosed with severe emphysema while in the hospital for treatment
of the flu. The doctors told me that if I was to go back to smoking I
would not live for another year, the best thing I could do for myself
was to stay away from smoking, as I had already gone through the physical
part of the addiction while I spent the 13 days in the hospital and of
course, I could not smoke while in there.
Knowing full well that if I started smoking again, it would really be like trying to kill myself, I started to smoke within an hour after getting out of the hospital. I did not wait until I got home, I stopped my car along the way and bought me a pack of cigarettes within 15 minutes after I got into my car.
As the disease grew increasingly worse, I continued to smoke and it was very upsetting to me. Each time I smoked one I knew I was in the process of killing myself, and I felt guilty about doing it.
I tried and tried many times to quit but even with the Gum, the patches,
and even self-help tapes, I just could not stay quit. The addiction was
stronger than my will to live. I did not enjoy smoking for the last year
that I smoked, but something drove me to smoke and as I have said, it
was a guilt trip all the time.
If you have ever had to do something that you knew was going to hurt you,
yet some outside driving force compels you to do it, then you may have
a slight idea of just how strong the addiction to nicotine can be. It
is like something forcing you to place your hand into a flame.... Bud
EllisWe lost Bud shortly after he wrote this. He had hoped that a lung
reduction surgery would allow him to lead a more normal life. Sadly, Bud
passed away following the removal of a nodule on one of his lungs on August
23, 1998.
Bud wrote this for our web site in hope that he would be able to let teens know just how addictive nicotine is. He devoted much of his life trying to spare others the pain he suffered as a result of smoking.
Through his web site, Bud continues to help others free themselves
from their addiction to nicotine. There, you will be able to find his
story and well as many valuable links. Bud also provides help and encouragement
to those who suffer from emphysema. You may visit his site at: # No Smokers
.
An RJR executive testified before Congress that the people who die each year from tobacco are just "computer generated numbers". Infact's "The Human Toll of Tobacco Photo Project" will show you pictures of the real people who fell victim to the lies of the Tobacco Industry.
Touching stories:
Katlyn's Page (Please Listen to Me)
HOW DO TOBACCO EXECUTIVES LIVE WITH THEMSELVES?