It’s been a year since I became a non-smoker, but I have to admit that I am by no means free from the shackles of nicotine. In fact, I still take substances through patches and gum and chew them all day, every day, until my jaw hurts.
Every morning when I wake up, the first thing that comes to mind is still smoking a cigarette and drinking a nice cup of coffee. And I still struggle with bad moods and the fear of never being able to hold my little friend who comforted me again.
I know the power of nicotine addiction. It has fascinated me for 60 years, ever since I smoked my first cigarette when I was 14 years old. At my worst, I was smoking 20 cigarettes a day.
So what was my reaction to the news that a daily pill distributed for free on the NHS could help people quit smoking, just as Mounjaro, Ozempic and Wegovy can help people stop smoking? Yes, please, I’ll have some of that!
Varenicline (sold under the brand name Champix) promises to make people more likely to quit smoking and has the potential to save thousands of lives each year.
It has fascinated me for 60 years, ever since I smoked my first cigarette when I was 14 years old. At my worst, I smoked 20 cigarettes a day, writes Jenny Murray.
The NHS is very keen to provide this service to addicts in the UK, where smoking-related illnesses are a huge drain on its meager financial resources.
NHS England chief executive Amanda Pritchard said the drug was a potential “game changer” in the fight against smoking.
Apparently, it works by reducing cravings for nicotine, by blocking nicotine’s effects on the brain (we know how), and by alleviating the familiar withdrawal symptoms of sleepless nights and uncontrollable moods. It seems that there is.
Do we really need another drug to do something that should be controlled by willpower? Am I really so weak that I need varenicline to relieve me of the nicotine grip, even though I’m already taking Munjaro to lose weight?
I’m not ashamed to say that I think so.
It’s been exactly one year since I last smoked a cigarette. Last November, I broke my vertebrae and was in the hospital, lying in bed in severe pain. I couldn’t even get up and take him out of the hospital because of that sneaky faggot. None of my family or friends were willing to take me outside to enjoy the fresh air. I had no choice but to give up.
I thought it was just a temporary period of denial. Once I got home, I was able to resume my normal life, but in the meantime I had to wear a nicotine patch and make sure I was taking enough nicotine chewing gum.
Varenicline, sold as Champix, is effective at reducing nicotine cravings, blocking nicotine’s effects on the brain, and relieving withdrawal symptoms.
Unfortunately, what I had hoped for was an extended period of short-term abstinence. My two sons booked me into a care home, insisting that I needed more rest and recuperation. No smoking there.
I sit for hours in my room in Poole, Dorset, looking out at the garden and the endless queues of nurses and care staff wandering down the garden path to take a 30-minute break in the smoking shed. I looked at it. As they walked, they carried the box, opened it, took out their coveted cigarette, put it in their mouths, lit it, and approached the designated smoking zone. How much I wanted to be with them.
Nicotine addiction is harmful. The two men closest to me were my father and grandfather. I grew to love the smell of nicotine on their clothes. I smelled their brown fingers, stained with the food marks of uncut branches. It was a vicarious delight and I couldn’t wait to try it myself. Everyone at school thought smoking was elegant and cool.
Shortly after my 14th birthday, I was left alone while my grandma was out shopping, and I stole one of my unopened Woodbines from my grandpa’s backpack. I lit a fire in the garden and breathed just like them. I had never felt so sick and dizzy in my life, but I wasn’t going to give up. I practiced a lot at home and worked hard to become good enough at smoking to be part of the cool gang at school. It was successful.
My father tried and failed a million times to give up. His lung cancer was discovered shortly after his 80th birthday, and I managed to find him a hospice with excellent palliative care. His last words to me before he died were: “Is something bothering you?”
I understand that need, that craving – even when it kills you. I always start my day with a cigarette, and a square of chewing gum can’t replace it.
I tried vaping at the recommendation of a friend, but it didn’t work. It ripped my throat in a way no cigarette had since Woodbine all those years ago.
Meanwhile, celebrities seem to be glorifying cigarettes again, just as Bette Davis did in my youth.
Singer Rosalía gave Charli XCX a bouquet of cigarettes for his birthday, but actor Paul Mescal says he refused to quit smoking while getting in shape for Gladiator 2.
Known as “sigfluencers,” they are leading young people in completely the wrong direction. Young people start smoking because they say, “That’s what everyone does.”
The NHS is very keen to provide the drug to 85,000 people a year in the UK, addicts whose smoking-related illnesses are a huge drain on scarce financial resources.
Will we never learn?
They’ll cough, vomit, and regret the day they gave you nicotine. I remember being told by a doctor many years ago that nicotine is as powerful a drug as heroin for some people. I have no doubt that I am one of them.
If this new drug can stop the nicotine control, I’m going to the doctor tomorrow. I am prescribed medication for weight loss and for smoking. If someone could come up with a drug that would make me love working out, I would be the happiest woman I could hope to be alive!
Camila is a heroine in the fight against domestic violence
I couldn’t have praised Queen Camilla more. After marrying the love of her life, she acted with grace and courage in the face of much criticism. But I do. No one but her could have ordered an hour and a half to be broadcast on prime time television to expose what was happening to so many women behind closed doors.
Queen Camilla spoke to survivors of domestic violence in an ITV documentary aired on Monday night.
She knows about domestic violence. This is no longer called domestic violence because the coercive control that many women suffer from does not necessarily involve beatings. She is my age and remembers the silence that surrounded the crime, which the police called “just domestic.” She made herself known about the rape and since 2020 has become a patron of SafeLives, a UK-wide charity working to end domestic violence.
She visited a shelter for women suffering from domestic violence and found that at least one woman a week is murdered by a current or former partner, and victims are more likely to attempt suicide than other women. I wanted to put an end to this crime, which is three times more expensive.
During my years on Woman’s Hour, I’ve seen things slowly change for the better as new laws are introduced, but I don’t think anyone who has done what Camilla did is now. plug. She gives voice to victims of domestic violence and uses her power and influence to help vulnerable women. I couldn’t have asked for a better queen.
I’ll take your lame pudding!
Ten days later, November 24th, is Stir up Sunday. On this day, I was preparing Christmas pudding with my grandmother. My mother didn’t bother, thinking Marks & Spencer was good enough.
Very few people will be making their own Christmas pudding or buying Christmas pudding this year.
I’m sure there aren’t many people making or purchasing their own this year. I might be the only one in my family who likes Christmas pudding with homemade lamb sauce, but I’ll eat a lot of it if I have to.
Why is anyone so afraid of giving us the right to choose whether to end suffering? Assisted dying legislation is too sensitive. Will two doctors and a High Court judge approve it? And do you need six more months before dying from a terminal illness?
I worry that too many MPs will think it is humane to vote no because they are too young and have never experienced sitting by the bedside of a relative begging for help to die in extreme pain. I am doing it. it’s not.
Why I said no to the jungle
Coleen Rooney has been confirmed as one of the stars to join the next series of I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out Here!
The only recognizable faces in the ‘I’m a Celebrity’ camp are Coleen Rooney and Oti Mabuse. Good luck to both of you.
A few years ago I was asked to do this for a considerable amount of money. I said no. Why would I want to eat bad food and be covered in bugs with people I have nothing in common with?
Eight nurses in Darlington are suing an NHS trust for safe, gender-segregated spaces to change into uniform.
Transgender nurses are allowed to share changing rooms, but they have made it clear that they do not want to change in front of biological men. I wish them luck.
