LoEdith Byrd Pasquale
1930 – 2001
When I was nine years old, Mom was diagnosed with emphysema due to smoking cigarettes. Mom, my sister, brother and Dad never talked about it. She was a smoker and that was that. She was unable to quit. If she’d have been able to quit smoking, she may have beaten this addiction and lived longer. But she just wasn’t able to quit.
For way too many years I secretly carried around my disapproval of Mom’s smoking. I knew that it was an addiction, I just didn’t realize how insidious it was. Smoking totally took over Mom’s life.
Some say that nicotine is more addictive than alcohol or heroin, and every bit as addictive as opioids. I’ve learned the chemicals in today’s vapes are ridiculously addictive.
My Last Visit With Mom
The last I saw Mom was just a couple weeks before her death. I had registered for a four-day women’s meditation retreat in a small town just north of Santa Fe, New Mexico. I arranged to leave a day early so I could spend the night with my parents before the retreat started.
That evening, after a meal of mac and cheese (Mom’s favorite) she questioned me about the retreat and meditation. I knew she wasn’t really interested, just curious about what I was up to. I explained that it was a time to sit, be quiet and sometimes talk to others. Mom jokingly suggested that I hold up in the guest room and when I needed to talk, she’d be available. “Think of the money you’d save,” she laughed.
I enjoyed my evening with them, sitting on the couch, munching on popcorn, and watching TV. I don’t remember what we watched but I do remember feeling her comforting presence. Every once in a while she’d put her hand on my knee and give it a little squeeze. She was happy I was there.
The retreat was divine. There were maybe 10 of us attending. We meditated, talked and shared. This experience brightened into a true bit of heaven for me. Little did I know that this retreat would be the foundation and strength I would draw on to get me through the next several weeks of my life.
Shopping With Mom
After the retreat, I returned to my parent’s house. Mom and I went shopping, just the two of us. I loaded up her portable oxygen tank and headed to where she wanted to go, a big box store. I pulled up to the store, retrieved a motorized cart and loaded her and her oxygen tank. Off we went. Mom was thrilled.
Mom was tethered to her oxygen tank, it was her lifeline. I loathed it and loved it at the same time. My disdain was that because of her addiction to nicotine, she had chained herself to this device. If only she’d been able to quit. But she wasn’t. I was grateful that the oxygen machine was available allowing her to breathe, allowing her to be mobile, allowing her to live.
That day we spent together, it seemed as if she knew she’d be gone soon. She was a woman on a mission, so excited to be out doing one of the things she loved: SHOPPING!
Mom was like a kid in a candy store. So excited, she ooh-ed and ahh-ed her way up and down each aisle selecting toys, books and clothes for the grandkids. Within an hour or so she amassed a treasure trove of goodies including a cute top for me: a cream colored bohemian style linen shirt imported from India. I still wear that shirt today.
Next we drove to a department store in a mall. Mom had one more thing to purchase. By now she was pretty tired so she elected to stay in the car. Mom told me what to shop for and gave me her credit card. My mission was to find an outfit for my daughter, Erica.
Mom and Erica had a little ritual they’d been doing for years. Mom would buy an outfit for Erica from Penney’s and send it to her telling her that if she needed another size to take it to the local Penney’s and exchange it for the right size.
Mom wanted to see Erica dressed in colorful midi-length skirts and fitted jackets. Erica, on the other hand, was way too conservative for that. So Erica always took Mom’s selection back and exchanged it for something she wanted. This gift-giving-exchange was a ritual.
My Assignment
So I had my assignment. I grabbed her card, marched into the women’s clothing department and spoke with a sweet young woman. I explained my task. Maybe I looked honest, I was certainly sincere. The young saleswoman let me take various outfits out to the car for Mom’s input. After several attempts, we settled on…yep, you guessed it: a cute midi-length flowy skirt and matching top and jean jacket.
It was one of the best days I’d ever had, just the two of us shopping and talking and giggling. Mom could always make me laugh. Now I see just how precious this time with her truly was.
And Then It Happened
A week later Dad called and said Mom was in an ambulance headed to the emergency room. She was struggling to breathe. That was a Friday. Mom died Monday morning. She was 71.
The truth is Mom didn’t have to die from emphysema. She could have at least tried to quit but she didn’t. She smoked one cigarette a day and hid this from everyone except my sister and me.
At one point I tried to persuade Mom to stop. I researched all the reasons why and presented those arguments to her. She listened and nodded and replied, “Dorothy Lee, I’m going to die somehow at some point, and this makes me happy.” I didn’t like it but what could I do? It was torture for me to carry around this idea that smoking made her happy even though it was killing her.
Nicotine can act like a stimulant or a sedative, depending on the level of nicotine in the body and time of day. Smoking also causes the release of endorphins, which create a tranquilizing effect.
Facing the Fatal Attraction
Could nicotine’s effects on the nervous system and brain be why it’s so difficult to quit this powerfully addictive drug?
My Turning Point
Then one day a young woman shared a painful memory with me. Her mother, an alcoholic, died from liver failure. The young woman had tried everything to get her mother to stop, but she couldn’t. Her mother never did stop drinking. The young woman stepped away from her mother because of this. And at the end of her mother’s life, the young woman and her mother were not speaking. The one regret this young woman had was that she didn’t try to make amends and just be okay with her mother’s addiction.
This was my wakeup call. I knew Mom was never going to quit, she made that clear. More than wanting her to quit, I wanted what time we had left together to be good. I wanted to just be with her as she was, without regrets.
The last time Mom and I were together she teased me about wanting to meditate and asked me to take her shopping. Which I did. I meditated and we shopped. What a gift I carry with me today. Thanks mom.
If you or anyone you know are addicted to nicotine in any form, there’s help. Start by educating yourself. Facing the Fatal Attraction.
Visit Nicotine Anonymous or call toll free 1-877-TRY-NICA (1-877-879-6422)
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