Tomorrow I go into surgery to fight cancer. The doctors are removing my thyroid, and while they say the outlook is good, the word cancer has a way of echoing in the back of your head like an unwanted song you can’t turn off.
Here’s the part that makes me feel guilty: I’m still smoking. After all the warnings, after the diagnosis, after staring mortality in the face—those cigarettes are still finding their way between my fingers.
Quitting sounds so simple when other people talk about it. Just stop. But when your brain and body are hooked, it’s like trying to wrestle a bear with one hand tied behind your back. And sometimes, that bear whispers: just one more won’t hurt.
I know surgery means I need to fight harder. Every drag feels like I’m feeding the enemy I’m about to go under the knife to fight. But I also know this: shame won’t help me quit. Beating myself up won’t stop the cravings.
So tonight, I’m choosing something else. I’m choosing honesty. I’m choosing to admit that I’m scared, that I’m human, and that the journey to quit isn’t neat and clean—it’s messy, with slips and stubborn habits.
Tomorrow, the doctors will fight cancer with scalpels and science. Tonight, I’ll keep fighting with awareness and willpower. Even if I haven’t quit smoking yet, I haven’t quit on myself.
Because this story isn’t over. It’s just another chapter.
by Dan and Bonkers
Support Mental Awareness Awareness Today
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