We all know the harms of smoking and in fact there is nothing healing about it, so why do doctors smoke?
I grew up with parents who were both doctors, and who both smoked. They were trained in the 1950s, when it was still fashionable to smoke, when doctors even advertised its ‘calming’ benefits and promoted its use … but they also lived through the mounting and eventually irrefutable evidence that smoking was harmful, and they continued to smoke. They were very intelligent people, so why were they willing to override that intelligence, not only of the scientific evidence, but the evidence of their bodies … the morning cough, the breathlessness on exercise, their angina … and only gave up smoking later in life after they had both had open heart surgery for their cardiovascular disease.
When I was young I found smoking disgusting … the smell of it, the smoke polluting the air in the house, the stains on fingers and teeth … and vowed I would never smoke when I grew up.
Yet I did.
‘Do as I say, not as I do’ did not have the desired effect and ever-curious as I was, I gave smoking a try. My first puff caused me to cough and gasp and burnt the delicate lining of my air passages, but I pushed through and had another and another … I started smoking at age 15, stealing cigarettes from my mother’s packets and sneaking outside to smoke them. Just a few here and there at first, and then it became a habit. One day my father came inside having found cigarette butts all over the lawn while he was mowing it and asked me if I was smoking and I lied and said no. So I started lying too. As drug addicts do.
Once I left home and went to university I started drinking and smoking … a lot. And continued for several years, all through medical training and into my specialty training. I eventually stopped drinking, when I realised it was not compatible with performing microsurgery or a living a long and healthy life, but it took me another two years to stop smoking, I was so addicted to it. I did not actually want to stop, but I was working in a hospital, and sick of feeling like a social pariah and sneaking out to the back alley to have a cigarette with the rubbish bins. Plus my then boyfriend did not smoke and understandably, did not like it.
So I stopped. Just went cold turkey from 30 a day to none. No cutting down, no weaning off, no patches, gum or drugs. I just said no, no more. When the cravings came up, I just kept saying to myself: ‘You don’t smoke’ and for whatever reason, it worked for me. For the first 48 hours, I wanted to kill everyone on the planet except myself. I was furious. Then I calmed down a bit and ate a strawberry. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted.
As my previously bludgeoned senses slowly recovered, I started to enjoy the smells and tastes of food again, the freshness of the air, and the freedom from being addicted to a substance that had me ‘by the short and curlies’ as they say.
I realised that smoking cigarettes had been a potent numbing agent for me, my go-to resource whenever things got tough. And I started to look at why. Without the constant numbness, I started to feel, truly feel. Feel what lay underneath my ‘everything is fine, there is nothing to see here’ veneer. Feel how anxious, angry and sad I was. And deal with it, step by step, as lovingly as I could.
We have a collective tendency to judge people who still smoke, without bothering to stop and ask: Why?
Why do something that makes no sense?
What is underlying their continuing need for this drug in the face of the ever-increasing cost of it financially and the toll it takes on their health?
I used to look in wonderment at old ladies in wheelchairs needing oxygen for their chronic airways disease who were still smoking; at old men with tracheostomies inhaling through the hole; at amputees puffing away outside the hospital; at pregnant women sucking on cigarettes. It made no sense to me. And it doesn’t, until you realise they are addicted to a drug, and they cannot or don’t want to stop because they don’t want to feel what they don’t want to feel.
You cannot make people stop smoking, including doctors. I know from personal experience there are cardiologists, respiratory physicians and vascular surgeons who still smoke, which makes no sense at all. These are very intelligent people, with medical training and experience. With all their intelligence, with everything they know about the human body and the harms of smoking, they continue to do it. What if there is more to intelligence than just mental acuity, the ability to understand, remember and recall things? What if we accumulate hurts in life that cannot be healed with mental intelligence? And what if there is a deeper intelligence that can help us to deal with these hurts?
We cannot deal with our addictions on the surface without dealing with the underlying root cause.
We have to be able to get underneath why we are doing what we are doing, without judging ourselves or giving ourselves a hard time. This means observing our behaviour, deepening our understanding of why we do what we do, and getting support if needed to deal with what lies beneath any of our self-destructive ways of coping, be they over-eating, smoking, drinking alcohol or less tangible things like being addicted to social media, TV or porn.
The root of all my addictions has been a lack of connection, to myself, to others, and especially to the essence of who I am, my Soul. The way back has been developing that sense of connection, first through the inspiration and loving support of dear friends, and then through my ever-developing relationship with my innermost essence, until the point where I can now be that support for others.